The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,14
arm and turned toward the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” she asked, though she didn’t dare struggle against his hold.
“Move,” he commanded.
Fear had Meira digging in her heels. “I shouldn’t—”
Frustration rippled across his features. “We have to get you out of here,” he said in distinct, almost insulting clips. “We use your mirror trick to get away, obviously. The question is where to go?”
Meira stilled in his grasp. “If we run, everyone will assume I’m guilty.”
“They’ll assume you’re guilty either way.”
Couldn’t he see? “At first, maybe, but you believed me.”
He stepped closer, lowering his head until his warm breath fanned across her face, the sand and smoke scent of him replacing the smell of melted flesh in her nostrils. Close enough to step into him and let him take the weight of her troubles. Close enough to kiss—
“I haven’t decided if I believe you or not,” he said.
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze to her feet. Disappointment played hopscotch in the region of her heart and made Meira want to wince, but she kept her inexplicable feelings to herself.
She raised her eyes only to find Samael staring intently at her, a small frown between his brows as though he were trying to figure her out.
His next words to her came out almost gentle, for him. “We’ll figure it out.”
Not a threat. More a reassurance.
Samael straightened suddenly and stepped back, his thoughts concealed behind blanked-out features, emotions fading like disappearing ink, as he walled them off yet again. “If that wasn’t the real Gorgon, then hopefully my king, and your mate, is still alive. We find him, we fix all this.”
He turned away, but Meira still didn’t follow him into the bathroom.
Pytheios had dropped a big stinking bomb of doubt in their midst. She couldn’t leave her sisters and new brothers-by-blood to deal with that on their own. The fake Gorgon’s death and her disappearing would only escalate the speculation, turn disbelievers within the clans against them.
“Bleeding heart,” came a muttered imprecation from the bathroom.
She lifted her head. “What?”
“I can practically read the bubble over your head,” Samael said. “The best way to help your sisters is to find Gorgon. Besides, they’ll be able to point out the pile of ash they think is him as proof that you are what you claim. Only a phoenix can kill a dragon that way.”
“What if they think the pile of ash is me?” It would kill her sisters to believe that. They’d already lost their mother. She couldn’t put them through that pain. Not again.
Samael opened his mouth as though to answer, but paused, head cocked, the gathering tension running through his body practically vibrating the air around them like a tuning fork. “They won’t think it’s you…because there will be witnesses.”
“Witnesses?”
Again, he grabbed her by the arm, only this time his grip was such that she knew she wouldn’t be able to break free. If anything, he’d leave a mark from his grasp alone, though she knew he didn’t mean to harm her, even in a small way.
He hustled her to the bathroom and pointed at the mirror. “They’re coming. Now. Do your thing.”
Meira processed the urgency in his voice and swiftly came to the horrible conclusion that he was right. Maybe finding Gorgon was the best course of action. Even if it hurt her sisters.
Either way, they were out of time. She needed to make a choice.
Still not sure it was the right one, Meira reached for a peace she was far from feeling, then closed her eyes, shutting out her concerns about her sisters, the dead remains of whoever he was in the room beyond, and Samael beside her, not to mention whatever the dragon shifter captain was hearing that she still wasn’t yet. She scrounged for a calm she’d been practicing all her life to find in the midst of fear.
Because she was always afraid.
“Please don’t touch me,” she begged, eyes still closed. “I don’t want you to end up like him.”
Samael released her as though she’d just declared he was holding a poison-dart frog, which would have been amusing in other circumstances. With a flick of her will, flames ignited across her skin. She opened her eyes and silently told the mirror in front of her to show a different scene than the reflection of their faces in the bathroom.
“That’s not far enough away,” Samael snapped. He wasn’t even looking at the mirror, so she wasn’t sure how he knew that. His face was turned toward the door.