Page 15 of The Last Daughter

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The quiet lull of the waves was broken by the same fae who had disturbed everything else in her life. Ailsa did not turn to look at him, instead rolled the spyglass between her fingers as she leaned against the wooden railing.

“Can a girl not enjoy the view?” she hissed.

In the corner of her eye, she watched the elfin lean his hip against the side in a casual posture, like they were friends or something. “Your neck is seared.”

“An astute observation.”

He made a sound that reminded her of a pig. “You should go inside. Your skin is too fair, and the sun is much stronger over the sea. You’ll be blistering by high noon.”

“And what do you care of my skin?” She met his stare finally. He looked like he belonged on the sea, the way he sat on the edge without fear of falling to his death, the way his loose shirt inhaled the breeze like the mast beneath them. His sleeves were rolled up around the thickest part of his forearms, too casual compared to the elegance of his face. It almost made her forget the monster waiting behind the twitch of his fingers.

His eyes dropped to her chest, ignoring her question. “Do you feel different? After becoming the Tether, do you feel more powerful than you did before?”

She ran a careful assessment over herself but shook her head. “No, I feel nothing. I’m still weak, and I’m still drowning.” But that night when the power latched to her, she recalled how briefly she feltgood. For the first time in her life, she breathed easy. But the sensation was fleeting, a transitory tease of what life was like without soggy lungs. That power surging beneath her skin, running along her veins, it must be what he felt like all the time. The thought made her heart murderous with envy.

She wrapped her hand around the beam and leaned against the smooth grains. Her gaze looked through the thin fabric of his shirt, the material sheer enough to see the black lines painted across his own skin. Rune marks, similar to hers. She noticed the pink, healing flesh covering the holes in his chest. “Did I at least hurt you?” she asked.

He nodded. “Very much.”

“Good.”

His gaze fell down her skirt, tracing the embellishments burned into the rough fabric. “I hope you know I did not come to this realm to kill your family, Ailsa. I think in time you’ll understand why I needed the artifact, why I went to such extremes to find it.”

“I do not care for your reasons, nor do I want to spend any time with you to figure them out.” She crossed her arms and pretended to be interested in the never changing horizon. “You’ve ruined my life and you don’t even care. Why should I be anything but indifferent to your cause?”

He was quiet, letting her seethe in quiet and dispel some of her anger before speaking. “Have you ever done something wrong for the right reasons?”

“Of course, but those reasons never resulted in genocide.”

The elfin sighed and paced the perimeter of the nest. “I’m not saying my reasons justify the lives I’ve taken.”

“Then whatareyou saying, Captain?” she snapped, growing tired of this petty dance. If he was trying to gain her pity, he was wasting his time. She felt nothing but hatred for the fae who killed her father, nothing but ice in her heart. “Do you know what it is like for me? To see your face every time I turn around, to feel the ghost of your hands around my throat and imagine my family’s last moments being something similar.”

He was quiet, but the boards of the nest groaned as he paused his pacing. “I imagine it must be quite torturesome for you to look at me.”

She pushed off the beam to look at him. Toreallylook at this male who had unknowingly ruined and saved her life all at once. Up here, away from his men and his commander where she finally got him alone, he was vulnerable. Different. Showing a side of him he allowed her alone to see, the male beneath the angst. And there was a softness there she didn’t see before when she was blind with rage.

“Did you kill them?” she asked. “Were you the one who took their lives?”

His eyes met hers, steady despite the shame he tried to hide behind the pretense of apathy. “Yes. Your father and two sisters approached before the battle. They all three attacked me, and I ended them.”

She took a trembling breath, swallowing back the wave of nausea rising in her throat. Of course, they would attack first. “Did they die well?”

The question visibly caught him off guard by the way his head slanted, but he recovered just as quickly. “Your father died like a king—completely fearless in front of his army. Your sisters…” He looked somewhere off into the ocean, brows rising at the memory. “They were even worse. They died like a fire, refusing to be snuffed out.”

A smile drifted to her lips, because even though this fae had killed her family, he spoke of their deaths in a way that was akin to respect, even dignified. War was brutal, death was certain, only honor validated them both. She wiped away a tear before it ran down her cheek.

“I appreciate your honesty, but you will never gain my forgiveness.”

“I do not ask for it.”

“I will find a way to kill you.”

“You’re welcome to try.” His face remained expressionless, but his words carried a tone of amusement.

She nodded with a tight jerk of her chin and followed his gaze to the gradient of blues. “Where are we going, and what will you do with me?”

“We are going to my home, Alfheim. The highest realm in the High Branches, the land of the elves. As for what we will do with you,” he rolled a rope in his hands and sat on the edge of the nest, “that is not up to me.”


Tags: Alexis L. Menard Fantasy