To Bleed a Crystal Bloom by Sarah A. Parker

Iwiggle my fingers into the leather glove, another layer to help ward off the chill as I descend Stony Stem, seeing but not seeing, stepping but not stepping, mulling over everything I just heard.

A week ago, my world was huge ... at least in my mind. Now, it feels tiny compared to the bigger, overriding picture Rhordyn shoved down my throat when he dragged me to that meeting.

He must know I’m simmering. Probably the reason he had Baze escort me to my tower post-Conclave whilst he stormed down the hall in the opposite direction, leaving my curiosity to feast on that wealth of startling information like a starved child.

I have questions.

The man has me just where he wants me—interest piqued, rattled enough to want to know more. He’s not forcing me over my Safety Line, but instead, threading his arm inside my cage and feeding me scraps of the outside world. Perhaps trying to prove how fragile the bars I’ve put around myself really are.

The bastard.

Battling my other glove, I’m exiting the stairwell into the fifth-level hallway when the hairs on the back of my neck lift ...

I spin, drive my bare foot into an unprotected kidney, and corral a man twice my size up against the wall with my hairpin pointed at his carotid.

He puffs out a startled sound, cradling his abdomen, eyes wide with surprise.

The Bahari male.

“Well,” he chokes, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

My hair unwinds, seeming to realize it’s no longer clipped in place, falling heavily around my shoulders.

“Do you make a habit of sneaking up on women?” I hiss, digging the weapon deeper, almost enough to draw a bead of blood.

It’s tempting. I’m on edge, and this asshole keeps dropping in on my alone time, reminding me the castle is swarming with strangers—something I’m trying so very hard not to think about.

He lifts a brow. “If I’d wanted to sneak, we certainly wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

“You’re suggesting you let me get the better of you ...”

Those eyes gleam like sky-born crystals, and from this close, I can see specks of purple around his irises.

“I’m suggesting that I’m not opposed to being pinned to the wall by a beautiful woman.”

I shove back, leaving him lounging against the stone, a smooth smirk kinking the corner of his lips. There’s a mark where my hairpin was dug into his neck, and the sight of it gives me an odd sense of satisfaction.

Baze would be proud, even if this male is insinuating he purposely let down his guard. No man would happily allow someone to kick him in the kidney.

His eyes narrow, head tilting to the side, revealing a glimpse of his undercut. I spot the scrawling lines that are barbered into it—like an artist took a blade to the half-shorn canvas and turned it into a work of art.

Suddenly self-conscious, I hold the clip between my teeth and sweep my hair back, twisting it into a heavy knot at the nape of my neck before securing it in place.

His gaze doesn’t waver, hunting every movement like a shark who just caught the scent of blood. Though there’s something ... more about it. Like those eyes are peeling back my layers, one by one, assessing me for flaws.

“What a pretty flower to keep locked in a big, rocky tower.”

My head snaps back. “Excuse me?”

He jerks his chin toward the entry of Stony Stem.

I realize with a start that he’s insinuating Rhordyn keeps me imprisoned.

“No—” I shake my head, tone adamant. “He doesn’t. It’s not like that.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” he purrs, crossing his arms and ankles, looking far too comfortable at the foot of my tower. “Has anyone ever told you how striking the color of your eyes are?”

I ball my hands into tight little fists that hang at my sides.

“What’s your name?”

“Cainon,” he answers far too swiftly, like the word was already sitting on his tongue, waiting to be thrown. “But you can call me Cain.”

“Do you want something, Cainon? Did you lose direction on your way to your meeting with Rhordyn? Or perhaps you require an escort back to the guest suites on the ground floor?”

He pushes off the wall and pockets his hands, shoulders lax as he strides forward a step. There’s a shift in his eyes—the lofty sharpness falling away, replaced with liquid swirls of a summer sea. “I wanted to apologize. For earlier.”

My mouth falls open, closes again, throat tightening.

Oh.

My feet move of their own accord, sending me on a mindless trail down the hall underwhelmed by shafts of gray light diving through the windows, putting that particular conversation well and truly at my back.

I don’t want his apology. I want him to forget it happened and leave me the hell alone.

“There’s no need,” I call over my shoulder as I walk like I have a destination in mind.

I don’t.

I just don’t want to be here, alone with a man who seems to care far too much about how I regard him. That’s the only reason he’d be on the fifth floor, apologizing for something he surely presumes I’m embarrassed about.

He’s suddenly right next to me, walking in long, lazy strides. “You walk very fast.”

I frown, gaze still cast ahead. “Why did you come here?”

The question is spat out like an ember that was scalding my tongue.

“Why did I come here?” he repeats, and I grind to a halt.

We spin at the same time, chest to chest but a foot apart, my head tilted back so I can see into the whirlpools of his eyes. He’s almost as tall as Rhordyn, but I don’t let the fact that my chin is in line with his sternum bother me.

He’s in my castle. In my territory. And his actions thus far have been questionable at least.

“Yes. You didn’t pledge yourself to the cause,” I say, prodding the badge on his lapel with my index finger—the one that’s Bahari blue carved with the sigil of a mountain pushing from the ocean. “So why did you come here?”

Both his brows lift. “Not just a pretty face, I see ...”

Internally, I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t take a genius to listen. And your flattery doesn’t work on me. Neither does”—I gesture to his ... everything—”all that.”

“Pity,” he mumbles, an amused lilt to his tone that has my brow pleating. “And who’s to say I’m not pledging myself to the cause?”

My frown turns into a scowl.

This male is just as difficult to read as Rhordyn. Perhaps I’m cursed to be surrounded by intense men who make very little sense.

“You didn’t hand over your badge. I assumed—”

“Everyone else at the table has far less to offer than I do, and unlike Zali, I’m not fucking Rhordyn for compensation.”

The words land like nails, the visual sowing deep into the soil of my brain, but I work hard to keep my features from betraying my internal flinch.

“So that’s what you’re after?” I cut him a glare, as if the look alone could convince him to spill. “Compensation?”

He shrugs. “I want many things, Orlaith.”

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

“You didn’t need to.”

A retort gets jammed in my throat, and I clear it out before turning away. “I must be going. I’ve got things to do. Places to be.”

You to avoid.

“Orlaith ...” His voice chases me down the hall, grips hold of my ankles, and bolts me in place.

Slowly, I turn.

He hasn’t moved from where I left him, but the intensity in his eyes has returned, solidifying those aqua pools into something that strikes a much harsher blow. “Will you be at the ball?”

A storm of unbridled energy swarms my heart, battering it while I consider the event Rhordyn is forcing me to attend. As if making me sit next to him in that room today wasn’t enough for everyone to see I’m ... just me.

Nothing more.

“Yes,” I bite out, watching his mouth hook at the corner.

“Your excitement is palpable.”

“How very perceptive of you,” I mutter, spinning. “Not just a pretty face, after all.”

His deep, rolling laughter batters my back as I stalk away.