Dark Heir (Dark Rise, #2)

by C.S. Pacat

Time seemed to slow, thick and molten like metal in heat. “You know, there aren’t a lot of people I let put hands on me.” James didn’t even glance at the place where Will held his wrist, holding his gaze instead, blue eyes glittering.

“I know,” said Will. “So this is how it’s going to be? You hold my hand and pretend that you have power over me?” Will didn’t back down, his thumb hard on the thin skin of the inside of James’s wrist.

“James!” Will was racing over as James collapsed, his face dead white. “James!” Will splashed to his knees in the water, pulling James up and against him. Ocean cold, James was barely breathing and his eyes were unfocused. It was more than just shock: he looked utterly drained, as if the gate had pulled out all his strength, Will the only thing holding him up. “James, can you hear me? James.” “Let’s not try that again in a hurry.” James’s usual drawl was blurred. The rush of relief was palpable, clutching James in his arms. Will let out a shaky breath.

That felt too close to the secret part of him that had felt pleased to see James do as he ordered. That felt pleased that James was here, in a place he didn’t want to be, only for Will’s sake. It made Will want to keep him safe, give him warmth and approval, tell him he’d done well. “You drained yourself.” For me. “For us. I’m grateful.”

Will felt James’s hand come to rest on the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair, a possessive gesture unmistakable in its meaning. “This one stays with me.”

You did it, he wanted to say to him. For me. I’m grateful. There was a deeper part of him that was pleased in ways that he shouldn’t be at how far James had pushed himself. For me, it also whispered. You drained yourself. You gave me everything you had.

“And if I were king?” said Sarcean. “If you were king . . . ?” He reached up and took a lock of that long gold hair, like sunlight spilling through his fingers. The words were soft, too soft to be entirely playful. “If I were king, would you be my queen?” “You dream.” Anharion smiled, as if he indulged his friend’s whimsy, though his cheeks burned. “A pleasant dream,” said Sarcean.

“He’s too weak,” said Will. “Look at him. Or can you tell me you wouldn’t fall over if I gave you the slightest push?” “I—” James began. “I won’t risk his life,” said Will. “You’re risking Violet’s life,” Cyprian said. “She’s worth a hundred of him.” “We don’t have a hundred of him,” said Will. “We only have one.” He pushed Violet’s absence aside. Solve each problem as it came.

“You can feel mine, can’t you?” James’s voice in his ear, soft as the touch. “You know I can.” He felt it when James walked into a room, felt it even when James was depleted, a guttering flame, and Will wanted to curl around him, and nurse that flame into blazing fire. “What does it feel like?” said James. “Like the sun. Or something brighter.”

“No,” said Will, the vehemence of it taking both James and himself by surprise. And then: “There must be a way to destroy it. When this is over. We’ll find a way.” He let the words sink in, James’s blue eyes wide. “If you still want me to order you around after that, I can.”

“I know you,” said Will, as James’s eyes widened. “Those people you’ll be taking to the gates, I know you won’t let them down. I know you’ll do everything you can to protect them. That’s what you are, you know. A protector.” James’s eyes widened further, as if he had never received that kind of praise before, and didn’t know what to do with it. “I see that in you,” Will said, “even if your father didn’t. I’ve seen what you’ve given to fight on this side.”

“Would you like that? An order?” “I—” James didn’t answer, just said, “I want to be yours, not his.” They were moving toward one another again, that cliff edge drawing closer. “I want that too.” “Kiss me,” said James.

James said to Will, “Darling, I’m not here to kill you.” James only had to gesture once, and Visander went flying backward, hitting a pillar and then the floor, his body slumped and slack. Cyprian took a step forward, and James merely glanced at him, and sent Cyprian careening across the floor. Will was staring at James in shock. James looked down at Will and held out his hand. “Well?” “He’s the Dark King,” said Violet. “And I’m his lieutenant,” said James, “here to fight by his side.”

“Tell me that you know,” said Will, “what I am, what I—” “I know,” said James. “Tell me you don’t care,” said Will. “I don’t care,” said James.

James had given him this chance to be—himself. “Tell me you know—me,” he said, gazing into blue eyes full of loyalty, and he wanted to hear James saying the words forever. “Tell me you know who I am, and you’re mine.” “I’m yours. I know who you are. Will—”