He wouldn’t look at me.
“You’re sorry?” I heard myself say, and my chest… God, it hurt. It broke. “Which part are you sorry about? What happened between us? Or the fact that you failed to mention you’re engaged?”
A muscle tensed along his jaw. “All of it.”
What broke then cracked wide open, shattering. “God,” I whispered.
“You don’t understand.” He looked over at me. “You cannot possibly understand—”
“Because I’m not a fae?”
His eyes met mine, and an eternity stretched out between us as a wild array of emotion flickered across his face. And then it all went away, as if he shut down whatever it was he felt. “Yes, because you are not like me. I am a King. I must have a Queen.”
The word was a stab to the heart. My cheeks dampened, and the world around me seemed to shift again. He wasn’t in a hallway anymore but standing in a brightly lit room that smelled like crisp apples. And there were others. The girl with the red hair and people with no faces, no names.
“Listen to Ivy,” he urged. “You cannot interact with either of them. The fact that they already know you’re involved is bad enough.”
“I can handle myself,” I said, repeating what felt like a script—one I didn’t want to read. “Pretty sure I’ve proven that.”
“All you’ve proven is that you’re incredibly lucky,” he fired back. “You’re not like them.” He gestured at the others. “You’re not a warrior with years of experience under your belt.”
“I’m a member of the Order. I’m trained and—”
“You are a member, but this is not your job,” the girl said.
“If hunting and killing evil fae isn’t my job, then what is?”
Silence from them, from the others, and in the silence, I heard Aric say, “You were born into the Order, but you’re not a true member.”
Confusion swept through me as the room and everyone in it seemed to flicker in and out. Aric was dead. I’d killed him. He couldn’t be here—
Caden faded out and then back in again. “You’re a distraction. A weakness that I will not allow to be exploited….”
“I’m not weak.” The words scraped against my throat. “I killed Aric. I…killed him.”
The space in front of me was empty.
He was gone.
And then I was gone.
* * * *
I wasn’t sure what stirred me, tugging me out of the emptiness, but I could feel the coldness of the tomb when I’d felt nothing before. A distant part of me acknowledged that I didn’t feel as cold as I should, and that perhaps that was concerning, but I was too tired to care, and too grateful that I didn’t hurt. That I felt…okay, just tired. So very tired. I started to slip away again when I heard it.
Footsteps?
No. It was too loud, too many thumps coming too fast. Banging? Yes, it sounded like banging. Was it the other fae finally checking on Aric? The Ancient would be pissed to realize it had taken so long. It was sort of insulting. A small grin cracked my dry lips. There was a burst of pain as if the flesh were too thin or raw, but it was okay.
I needed to open my eyes, but my lids were too heavy. I just wanted to sleep. That was all I wanted.
Voices.
That’s what I heard next, or at least thought I heard. I wasn’t sure. Shouts. Names that teased at the disjointed memories. Pounding footsteps followed—
The world seemed to explode. Wood cracked and splintered, and air—fresh, rose-scented air—flowed into the chamber.
“Brighton?”
The voice. His voice. I recognized it. The deep, melodious baritone that had whispered against my skin. But it sounded different now, full of relief and horror, fury tinged with desperation.
A curse was uttered, and then warmth flowed over me like sunlight breaking through the clouds. The air stirred.
“Brighton?” He was closer, and I tried to open my eyes, but it was of no use. A moment passed, and then I felt warmth against my cheek. Fingertips. Warm hands smoothing back the matted strands of hair— “Dear God.”
The two words sounded as if they took the speaker to their knees. My eyelids fluttered. Finally, I was able to open both of them halfway. The blurry image of a man dressed in black formed.
He was on his knees.
I knew him. I knew I did, but I couldn’t remember his name.
Blond hair shielded his face. He wasn’t looking at me, but instead reaching for the strap of the dress, pulling it back and then fisting a handful of the skirt, tugging it up and over one leg. I didn’t want him to do that. I knew I didn’t want him to see what had been done to me. That much I knew.
“Fucking Christ,” he snarled. “Fucking Christ. I’m going to fucking kill him.”
I flinched.
His head whipped in my direction, and I jerked away from the rage that filled every pore and plane, making his strikingly beautiful face more animalistic than human. The pure violence radiating off him was terrifying.
He seemed to rein it in, the anger and the power, wrapping it around himself like a cloak. Dropping the dress, he reached for me, and every muscle in my body locked up. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain that was sure to follow.
“Brighton,” he spoke, his voice softer. “It’s okay.” The warm touch returned to my cheek, brushing my hair back. He seemed to freeze, and then he spoke again, the words hoarse. “It’s going to be okay now. I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to…”
He trailed off as a chain rattled. A wave of heat entered the room, stirring the material of my dress.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he repeated. His hand moved—
“Don’t,” I croaked, recoiling out of instinct, managing to draw back a few inches.
There was a tense silence and then, “I’m not going to hurt you. I could never hurt you.” His touch returned, slow and measured. He slid his hand along the side of my head, his palm becoming a barrier between me and the floor. “Open your eyes for me, Brighton. Please. Open your eyes, baby. See me and know I’m not going to hurt you. Open your eyes for me, sunshine.”
I saw you smile once, and it was like the sun finally rising.
He’d said that to me before. When I asked why he called me sunshine, he’d said that to me. He’d said that, and he…he’d told me that my hair was like sun rays.
Caden.
The King.
I knew him.
He wouldn’t hurt me, but…but it felt like he had. Deeply, but differently.
Drawing in a shallow breath, I cracked open my eyes and found him in the darkness and he… He couldn’t be real. He couldn’t really be here.
“There you are.” He smiled, but it seemed off. Like I knew what his real smiles were like even if they were rare. This one looked sad. “Keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m going to get you out of here, but I need you to keep your eyes open so I know you’re still here, and so you know that this is me.”
My lips parted to speak again, but my tongue was heavy and useless. Some innate part of me told me that I needed to tell him about Aric, that he needed to know.
“I…I did it,” I said, wincing as the words scratched at my throat.