She was taken to the bone gardens that night—a labyrinth beneath the court where the roots of the great thorn-tree grew like fossilized veins. The air was cold and still. Riven met her alone, divested of his crown and his court, wearing only a simple black tunic and bare forearms crisscrossed with scars that glowed faintly silver.
“You’re afraid,” Riven observed softly. His thumb brushed her jaw, and she hated the way her skin warmed at the touch. “Good. Fear keeps the blood hot.” court of blood and bindings vk
The hall fell silent.