I didn’t follow. The last thing she needed was the Mist King haunting her every step when she needed time alone to process whatever she was feeling. Showing her the village, letting her see her childhood home, it had opened a wound that had barely begun to heal. I realized that now. This had been a mistake.
And so, I drifted out of her mind, draping my cloak back over her as the fire crackled. Her breathing had calmed. No more tears streaked down her cheeks. Not that I should care. She wanted me dead. To her, I was just as bad as Oberon.
Frowning, I strode back over to the boulder and sat hard. She’d done nothing but insult me since the day she’d opened her eyes in that dungeon cell. Every single time she got the chance, she threw that hateful title in my face.The Mist King. Over and over again, she taunted me with it.
Tessa blamed me for everything that had happened to her. The problem was, she was right. Itwasmy fault. I’d lied to her. I was the reason Oberon had chosen her as his bride. I’d even drenched the lands in all that mist.
My eyes drifted back to her all the same. Those red-tinted lips. The dark golden hair falling across freckled cheeks. Fuller, the past few days. Stronger.
For fuck’s sake, none of that mattered.
King Oberon needed to die. That was my top priority and the only reason I’d agreed to this bloody mission in the first place. Tessa was the key to getting to him. She was a mortal, one not trapped by ancient magic. She could come and go in Albyria without the gemstones’ power stopping her.
And stab that blade into her king’s heart.
I’d finally win this centuries-long war and let the mist flood those lands, and I didn’t care if that meant she hated me.
Twenty-One
Tessa
The scent of frying meat invaded my senses. I sat up, frowning at the unexpected weight of the cloak the Mist King must have draped across me. He perched on a rock on the opposite side of the small fire, flipping a skewer of meat over the flames. I swung my legs to the side, curled them up to my chest, and watched him.
With the flames reflected in his sapphire eyes and the mist pulsing off his broad shoulders, he looked nothing short of otherworldly. No one could ever mistake him for a mortal. It was even in the way he moved, with a preternatural grace. I realized I was staring and cleared my throat.
“What’s that?” I asked, my stomach growling.
He didn’t glance up. “Pooka meat.”
I remembered their sharp claws, venomous fangs, and matted fur. Stomach turning, I wrinkled my nose. “Um, that’s disgusting.”
“Don’t be fooled by the look of them. They’re quite tasty.” He dragged a bite-sized chunk of meat off the skewer and popped it into his mouth. Smiling, he chewed, his eyes locked on mine. I felt a little funny about that. It was weird to see him smile.
When he stopped chewing, he tossed a piece to his raven and then passed me a bite. I took it with extreme hesitation. Turning it over in my hand, I tried to find a reason to object to eating it, besides the obvious. Truth was, it looked normal enough. Like wild turkey.
My stomach growled again.
“I’m not thrilled about this.”
Still smiling, he passed me the whole fucking skewer. “Got to keep up your strength.”
“You’ve mentioned that a few times,” I pointed out.
“Oberon wasn’t feeding you well, and the next few weeks will be hard.” He grabbed another skewer full of uncooked meat and held it over the flames. “Eat up.”
Tensing, I popped the meat into my mouth. It was kind of…bland. Nothing like what I expected at all. My stomach roared its approval.
After I’d eaten two entire skewers and my belly had finally started to feel full, the sound of footsteps echoed through the cave. The Mist King hopped to his feet and vanished into the darkness, returning a moment later with his trio of warriors.
They all looked tired. Dirt and blood stained their armor, but they weren’t wounded as far as I could see. Niamh collapsed on the ground beside me and grabbed what was left of my skewers. Toryn and Alastair stayed back with the Mist King, whispering fiercely to each other.
“What happened?” I asked as she ate.
“Found the travelers,” she mumbled as she chewed. “Three of them. They weren’t too pleased to get caught. Archers, the lot of them. But we won in the end.”
“Are you all right?” I asked, alarmed. For some reason, I’d expected them to find the traveler and escort him down the mountain where he could wander around somewhere else. I hadn’t expected a fight, even though they’d been worried about a threat. Which meant…what exactly had they been trying to do? Did the Mist King have more enemies out there than King Oberon?
My gaze wandered to where he stood with the others. His face had gone hard, his eyes flashing with that rage he carried with him like a shield. They’d won, but he didn’t look very happy about it.