I shook my head. “You’re wrong. I tried to kill him, and he retaliated. Nellie’s death is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said, his voice rough and full of emotion. “It’s allhim, and I would kill him for what he’s done to you if I could. I would rip his head off his body. And then I would feed the rest of him to the mists. He would be nothing but ash when I got done with him.”
I sucked in a rattling breath.
His hand slid along my neck before he wound his arm around me once more. He tugged me a little closer. Heart hammering, I tried to focus on anything other than the heated look in his eye, the strength of his chest against mine, the closeness of his lips.
He was just trying to keep me warm. That was all. And I definitely didn’t want it to be more. Yes, I’d discovered he wasn’texactlythe monster I’d always believed him to be, but that changed very little. He’d still captured me. He’d still lied to me.
“Tell me about her,” he murmured.
“My sister?”
“Yes. What was she like?”
Surprised he’d ask, I waited a moment before answering. But it didn’t take long for the floodgates to open. I told him about the time Nellie had grabbed my hand and jumped into the mud, back when she’d been only five and hadn’t discovered dresses and boys. I recounted the time she’d learned a dance for that damn King Oberon song and wanted to teach me every move. Memories of her beautiful life filled me up, and I told story after story until my words grew hushed and a warm relaxation finally settled over me.
I drifted to sleep with her name on my tongue and Kalen’s steady strength by my side.
Twenty-Six
Tessa
SIX YEARS EARLIER
It was a warm spring morning in Teine. We only had three seasons, each with a varying intensity of heat. With the start of spring came the fresh bloom of flowers, the propagation of seeds, and long hours spent tilling the soil. So, Mother was in the fields when the king came for me.
Our door was propped open, just like most of the homes in Teine. The king stormed inside, his boots thunking against the wooden floor. My conversation with Nellie died as I froze in my reading chair. He towered over us both, rage burning in his ember eyes. The dagger in his hand was as sharp and deadly as the twin horns that grew out of his head.
“Go to your room,” I whispered to Nellie.
“No one move,” the king commanded as he swept his heated gaze from Nellie’s face to mine. “Which one of you is the eldest?”
Slowly, I stood, twisting my hands around my back so that he couldn’t see them shaking. This was my worst nightmare come to life. It had been over a year since the last time the king had visited our village and rained down violence on us mortals. I’d never forget the look on Val’s face when she’d seen her parents strung up in the village square.
She had not been the same since.
“I am,” I said.
He closed the distance between us and grabbed a fistful of my hair. Heart thundering, I mashed my lips together to hold in my cry of fear. Without another word, he dragged me out of the house, down the steps, and then threw me onto the dirt. Pain bit my elbows where they hit the ground, but it was nothing compared to the terror in my heart.
What was happening? We’d followed all his orders. We’d fallen in line. I’d done nothing wrong. I hadn’t even dared think of rebelling against him. It was too dangerous. I’d seen what happened to Val’s parents, to my own uncle. They were all dead.
He spat on the ground by my face, and I winced, hating that I was so weak. “I know what your father did.”
“What?” My mind stuttered. I lifted my head and gazed up at him. He leaned down and twisted his lips into a cruel smile. It had been a year since Father had escaped, running across the Bridge to Death and vanishing into the mists. Had the king only found out about this now?
“My soldiers just found him, coming back over the bridge,” he sneered. “Him and his friend. Seems they realized they should have listened to their king. It’s dangerous in the mists, and something attacked them both out there.”
Hope lifted my heart. Father was back? It sounded like he was wounded, but wounds could heal, especially here. I opened my mouth to speak, but the king pressed the tip of his dagger against my lips. “No speaking. Your father defied me. Do you know what I do to traitors?”
I shuddered. Unwanted memories flew through my mind like circling vultures that searched for a way to swallow me whole. So much blood. So many vacant eyes. If the king had decided my father was a traitor, he was dead. I slumped, shoulders bent like a sagging roof, a tear burning down my cheek.
“That’s right.” He roughly grabbed my arms and flipped me onto my stomach. My breath rushed out of me as the weight of him pressed against the back of my legs. The dirt scraped against my face and the cloying taste of bile clogged my throat. He’d killed my father, but it hadn’t been enough. He was going to kill me, too.
King Oberon grabbed my tunic and ripped it open, exposing my back. The sharp tip of his dagger dug into my skin, right at the base of my spine. I sucked in a rattling breath, too terrified to do anything but lie there like an insect trapped beneath the boot of a giant.
He leaned down and hissed into my ear, his breath saturated with the scent of lavender. “What was your father doing out there? Tell me what you know.”