When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
***
Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Sure," I replied to Danne, that sounded like a lovely idea. Spinning away, I picked up my messenger bag I'd left by the wooden bench. Earlier, I had filled it with snacks and water, my Kindle, and a blanket, thinking that after I'd burned out the dark power residing within me, I'd spend some time by the deep well of water inside the woodland and bask in the sun like a reptile.
Today, like other mornings, I left the door to my mother's aviary slightly open, hoping the birds would fly free. But I knew they wouldn't. They'd been trapped in there for so long that it just didn't occur to them.
Danne and I drifted from the aviary, strolling casually toward the mayhem of construction currently taking place. I kicked my legs out as I walked, delighting in the manicured lawn and the spring of the grass beneath my bare feet. Danne kept chatting and I let him as we made our way in a direction more in line with the cluster of containers than the small group of people—my family and the Pelans—gathered in a loose knot watching the marquee rising.
Graysen stalked across the lawn. As yet, he hadn't noticed us. He was still wearing the same clothes from early this morning—dark jeans and heavy boots—though he'd changed into a new t-shirt which was tight enough to reveal the muscular chest and the tattoos stark against the golden hue of his skin. He carried a lethal casualness about him completely at odds with the sleek, polished Pelans and Wychthorns.
Gods, the guy was magnificent—
Stop it right there!
"How's the Lord of Darkness been?" There was a bitter note to Danne's tone. He ran his hand through his preppy hair as he cast a scowl toward Graysen.
I frowned, what was it between them?
"He's..." How to describe Graysen? If Danne had asked me yesterday. I might have said an arrogant prick and he still was, but as I tried to formulate an answer my gaze drifted over to an opening within the tree line and the flagstone path that led to the sinister prison.
He kept me company at the tithe prison.
He could have left me there alone, but he'd stayed and carried me back to my rooms.
I'd been half-aware when he'd picked me up and held me in his lap, his indelible scent perfuming my dreams. And my subconscious mind allowed me to do what my conscious mind would not—just sink in, let go, and let him hold me. Safe. That's what it had felt like, his warmth and arms caging me. Not bars of metal, but flesh. I'd not been a bird trapped in an aviary. A girl in an estate. I'd been protected, but those arms could open up and let me fly.
Graysen Crowther wasn't as cold-hearted as he made out.
My fingers worked my hair, braiding and un-braiding my locks, my brow creasing in thought. "He's—"
But Danne didn't let me answer, instead he overrode me. "Gods, that guy is an asshole. I don't know how you can stand to be around him."
The vehemence in his words startled me. My brows drew together in a curious line. "Why don't you like him?"
