He wouldn’t have killed her.
He wouldn’t have tried to kill me like my father.
Evander. Not my father.
Not my father.
Not my father.
As my thoughts spiraled, the spark of anger became a violent inferno of rage. My hand gripped the chair, turning my knuckles white as I stared at my mother’s face.
My dead mother’s face.
I had been soblindmy entire life. Evander had us so thoroughly under his thumb, I couldn’t even think for myself —doing what I was told when I was told. I had been so convinced that he was the only one who could protect us. That we needed his protection.
When in reality, the only thing we needed protection from was him.
“I hate him,” I declared for the second time. My nails sank into the fabric of the chair, tearing little crescent shapes. “We need to do something. He needs to be stopped.”
“I need to tell you why I was gone the past few days.”
For the first time since we’d arrived, I turned to face him, meeting his gaze.
“We arranged an ambush of sorts to assassinate Evander. He agreed to meet us at a place called the Marsh for the handover, which is why I left you here. I planned to assassinate him, but he never showed. That’s when I realized he knew. That would’ve been the only reason he wouldn’t go through with the handover.”
My gaze returned to the fire when he finished. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been outraged by his attempt to kill him—and behind my back, no less—but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Every emotion I was feeling right now was pointed straight at Evander. A burning spear of fury, hurt, and hatred. Aimed and ready to be released and plunged deep into his chest.
“Why did he send his men, then?”
“What?”
“Why did he send his men if he wasn’t going through with the handover? Why not just not show up?” I asked again. Rogue paused for a moment and swore.
“That bastard must’ve been planning an ambush, too. We left before the meeting time because I…” He paused, clearing his throat. “I feared he might have sent someone after you since he knew I wouldn’t be here. The same way he snuck someone in to kill my father.”
“I don’t know why saving me was worth leaving Doran and Delphia there,” I replied. “Why am I still even here? If you can’t use me as ransom, why am I—”
He gripped my chin, ripping my face toward him.
“I said you are not leaving me and I meant it. Whether you like it or not, you are my mate. You also happen to be the daughter of Auryna’s general with a newly found vengeance, and I know you have relevant information in that pretty little head, just waiting to be told.”
My blood boiled as I held his gaze, my chest rising and falling quickly, before jerking my chin out of his grasp.
“Good to know I still have a purpose as a captive.”
An angry muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Have you not been given the freedom to roam? Freedom to talk to whoever you want, read whatever book you want? Have you not been fed, dressed, fucked? Do you think others talk to me the way you do?” He leaned down, bracing a hand on each armrest. His face was just inches from mine, but I refused to yield. “If you were just a captive, Ara, you would be locked in the dungeon.” He lowered his mouth to my ear, his breath sending goosebumps across my skin. “Although, I would love to see you in chains if that’s where you’d rather be. Just say the word.”
I turned my face away and he chuckled, stepping back.
“I just can’t leave. Got it.”
Hurt flashed behind his eyes and I kept my face blank as guilt bit at me.
“Where would you go, Ara? Tell me. Where would you go? Make your way to Blackburn? To another Fae village where you know no one? To Auryna? With your pointed ears and out-of-control magic?”
I dropped my gaze to the floor. He was right, of course, but there it was. The reminder that I had no one. But before the hurt could sink in, I tunneled on the rage. Let it consume me. Guard me.