She tried to push him off. He was heavy, solid muscle. If she pushed him, he would fall to the floor, and she could run.
Do it. Drop him and run.
She gathered her strength to shove him away. But before she could, the sound of heavy armored boots echoed down the corridor. Dozens of them.
"Secure the perimeter!" a voice boomed, deep and authoritative. "The Emperor has broken the chains! Isolate the West Wing!"
Vera cursed under her breath. Too late.
She was trapped. Behind her was a solid stone wall. In front of her was the unconscious Emperor acting like a human blanket. Approaching her were the Imperial Guards.
A tall man stepped over the dead bodies of the knights. He moved with a predatory grace that was different from Kassian's brute force. He wore the black cape of the Imperial Commander.
This was Damon, the Emperor's Shadow.
He was terrifying in a different way. He had jet-black hair and eyes the color of amber—watchful and unblinking. A jagged scar ran from his lip up to his cheek. On his neck, intricate black tattoos spiraled up to his ears—seals of silence.
Damon raised his sword, pointing the tip directly at Vera's forehead.
Vera held up her free hand, the one not pinned by the sleeping Emperor, in a gesture of surrender. She tried to look harmless, which was hard when the most powerful man in the world was using her as a body pillow.
Damon's amber eyes scanned the scene. He looked at the dead guards. He looked at the broken chains. And finally, he looked at his Emperor, who was sleeping peacefully, snuggled into the neck of a dirty, terrified thief with copper hair.
Damon's sword didn't lower, but his expression shifted from murderous intent to absolute shock.
"He is... sleeping?" Damon whispered. His deep voice resonated in the room, vibrating through the floor. It was the first time he had seen Kassian close his eyes without screaming.
"Look," Vera said, her voice trembling but defiant, her green eyes flashing. "I didn't kill anyone. He did. I'm just the unlucky furniture he collapsed on. If you take him off me, I'll be on my way. I won't tell anyone."
Damon took a step closer. The tip of his sword touched Vera's chin, forcing her to look up.
"You are bleeding," Damon observed, his gaze dropping to her palm, then to the faint blue glow fading beneath her tunic.
"He bit me," Vera lied quickly. "Or licked me. I don't know. He's a freak."
Damon's eyes narrowed. He realized what had happened. He had spent years watching Kassian suffer, watching the fire burn him from the inside out. He had watched healers and mages burn to ash trying to touch him.
And now, this girl... this thief... was holding him, and he wasn't burning her. He was sleeping.
"Don't move," Damon commanded. His voice was low, dangerous, and brooked no argument.
"I can't move!" Vera snapped, her patience fraying. "He weighs a ton!"
Damon lowered his sword, but he didn't sheath it. He signaled to the guards behind him with a sharp hand motion. "Close the doors. Tell no one what you saw here. If a word of this leaks, I will take your heads myself."
The guards scrambled to obey, shutting the broken doors as best they could.
Vera felt a pit form in her stomach. The look in Damon's amber eyes was not one of mercy. It was the look of a man who had found a missing key.
"Hey... Scarface," Vera tried, keeping her voice steady. "We can work something out. I'll give back the—" She paused. She hadn't stolen anything yet. "I'll just leave. You'll never see me again."
Damon looked at her with a terrifying calmness.
"Leave?" Damon let out a dry, humorless laugh. He stepped closer, grabbing Vera's arm with a grip like iron. He wasn't arresting a criminal. He was securing an asset.
"You are not going anywhere, little thief," Damon said, his eyes gleaming with a new, ruthless plan. "You just achieved something the Holy Church and the Royal Alchemists failed to do for a long time. You made the monster sleep."
Vera looked down at Kassian's sleeping face. Without the red glow, he looked almost peaceful, like a fallen angel, completely unaware that his weight was crushing the life out of her.
I should have just stayed in bed today, Vera thought, as the darkness of the situation finally swallowed her whole.
She was no longer a thief. She was a prescription. And looking at the way the Emperor clung to her even in his sleep, she had a feeling he was going to be addicted.
Commander Damon sheathed his sword with a sharp clack, but the threat in his amber eyes didn't diminish. He stepped closer, invading her personal space. He smelled of steel, leather, and old blood.
"What is your name?" Damon asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a judge delivering a death sentence.
Vera hesitated. In her line of work, giving a real name was a rookie mistake. "Lia," she lied smoothly. "I'm just a—"
"Do not lie to me," Damon interrupted, his gaze flicking to the silver snowflake birthmark glowing faintly beneath the collar of her tunic. "I am the Commander of the Imperial Shadows. I know every thief, spy, and assassin in the capital. You are the one they call 'Shadow Finger.' Real name: Vera. No surname. You have a brother named Milo living in the Gray District slums."
Vera's blood ran cold. The calm facade she had built up cracked. "If you touch him," she hissed, her green eyes flashing with a sudden, feral protectiveness, "I will burn this palace down."
Damon didn't flinch. In fact, a flicker of amusement crossed his scarred face. "You cannot even light a candle, little thief. But it is good to know you have a weakness. It makes you easier to control."
He gestured to the guards. "We are moving. The Emperor cannot sleep on a dungeon floor."
"Great idea," Vera said, trying to pry Kassian's heavy arm off her waist. "You take him. I'll just show myself out."
She tried to step away.
The reaction was instantaneous.
As soon as Vera broke physical contact, separating her body from Kassian's, the Emperor groaned. A spasm of pain shot across his sleeping face. The veins in his neck, which had cooled to a pale white, suddenly pulsed with a warning flash of magma-orange. Heat began to radiate from him again, raising the temperature in the room by ten degrees in a second.
"No..." Kassian muttered in his sleep, his hand grasping blindly at the air.
Damon's hand was on his sword hilt instantly. "Go back to him!" he barked.
Vera didn't need to be told twice. The heat coming off Kassian was already burning her eyebrows. She stepped back into his embrace, letting his head rest against her shoulder again.
The moment their skin touched, the orange glow in his veins died down. The heat dissipated, replaced by the unnatural cool radiating from Vera's body. Kassian let out a contented sigh, nuzzling into the crook of her neck like a giant, lethal cat finding a sunbeam.
Vera looked up at Damon, horrified. "You have got to be kidding me."
Damon stared at the scene, calculating. "It seems the range of your... effect... is zero. He requires direct contact."
"I am not a blanket!" Vera snapped. "I can't walk like this! He's a foot taller than me and weighs three hundred pounds of solid muscle!"
"Then you will learn to endure the weight," Damon said coldly. He turned to his men. "Help her. Carry His Majesty to the Royal Bedchamber. If he wakes up, everyone dies. So do be gentle."
The journey to the Royal Bedchamber was the longest walk of Vera's life.