A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

“What was your endgame?”

“I wasn’t playing any games. Weston had me thoroughly kidnapped.”

“How can you still be here when Roldan told me you were thoroughly dead?”

I shrugged. “Magical maturity.”

Not true, but I doubted he’d know that.

Sarai went through hers when she got her monthly for the first time. Magdalena when she lost her virginity. Not one of them had ever died and come back.

“How did you find me?” I asked with a sigh.

“My men said they saw Weston’s woman in the city, having remembered you from when you graced us with your presence at our camp a while ago. I thought they were imagining it, or maybe losing their minds—it has been bloody hot.”

I frowned deeper. Because Weston’s woman?

“Secondly, I saw you light a Titan ship up. That’s when I knew it was you. Somehow that simple little flame engulfed an entire ship in seconds.”

Oh.

“Well,” I said, “I guess that would do it.”

A calm settled around us, the ship seeming empty with the quiet and only a gentle rock in the still water.

“What are you doing in the city?”

I countered with, “What do you want with me?”

He sat back in his chair, his legs spread out before him. I imagined that’s how he sat while a couple of his women fanned him. There was something amusing yet annoying about his self-indulgent air. That was the difference between him and Weston. They might share the same “mine” attitude about a lot of things, but Maxim was a hedonist—while I believed Weston had certain things he strived for, however giving up many pleasures in return. What are they, though? I wondered.

Maxim rubbed his jaw, thinking it over, while the silence did much for the slight ache in my head. “I know you better than you think, you know.”

I scoffed, amused. “I highly doubt that.”

“I probably know you better than Weston.”

I raised a brow.

“I’ve at least kissed you better,” he said with a little amusement in his eyes, “though, now I hate to admit I’ve kissed you at all.”

My brows knitted, ignoring his insult to me being a Sister. “How would you know that?” I did not figure Weston as the kiss and tell type.

He watched me for a moment as if thinking over what he should tell me. “Weston and I are blood brothers. We were young and stupid. Cut our palms and shook hands. Our fathers had bonded when they were younger to show allegiance between our cities; we thought we’d do the same.” He laughed, completely unamused. “There’s not much that happens in Weston’s life that I’m not aware of and, unfortunately, vice versa. His emotions feel like my own sometimes. I felt your little ‘moment’ shortly before . . . well, your magical maturity or whatever.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That was none of your business.”

He chuckled. “Seems it was, when I felt it and all. Didn’t seem to last very long, though, before I felt the strongest sexual frustration I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“How thankful you must’ve been that you had your harem,” I said, feigning indifference.

“Quite.” He smiled. “Although that particular revelry didn’t last very long . . . considering a tidal wave of pain hit me. I’d thought someone had actually bested Weston and killed him. But the pain just kept coming. I was sick for a month. It put my plans to invade Symbia on hold.” He narrowed his eyes at me, but I vaguely noticed.

I always wondered what happened to Weston. He’d told me he’d die from the bond as well, but I knew that wasn’t what happened when he seemed to be alive and healthy if you asked anyone in the city. At least he’d suffered a little pain from it.

“Well, get your apology from Roldan if you want one because he’s the one who stabbed an innocent woman.”

“So I heard,” he drawled.