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He blinks several times, pulling himself out of the past. “I killed my father.”

My eyes snap to his. For several seconds, I don’t breathe.

Des…killed his father?

So many emotions bubble up. Surprise, horror, fear…kinship.

You and I share many tragedies.

Now I understand. His father and mine both died by our hands. It makes me wonder anew what he saw that first day he met me. I always assumed my depravity had shocked him a bit. I hadn’t imagined this.

“Was it an accident?” I ask.

He laughs. “No,” he says, his voice bitter, “it was quite deliberate.”

My skin prickles. “Why are you telling me this?”

His hand slides around my waist, locking me to his side. “Sometimes I see you, and the past is alive. It overlays who you are and what you do.” He squeezes me closer, almost to the point of pain. “I’m reminded of my old wounds, and I feel…I feel my vengeance rising.

“I cannot change my past, and I cannot change yours. I cannot even stop you from getting hurt…but I can make others atone for your pain.” He says this last part so silently, so malevolently that a shiver escapes me.

That’s foreboding.

“What are you thinking of, Des?” I ask him. Because it’s clear to me that he’s scheming.

He glances down at me, his white hair and silver eyes looking more Otherworldly than ever.

“Nothing, cherub. Nothing at all.”

Chapter 42

“Did you hear the news?” Temper asks the next morning. The two of us eat breakfast in the same large atrium I ate at on my first morning here.

This morning, when I woke up alone in my bed, I headed over to Temper’s room and asked her to join me.

I was determined to show those here at Solstice that they hadn’t seen the last of me yesterday.

“What news?” I ask now before ripping off a piece strudel and shoving it into my mouth.

Dozens of other guests in the atrium keep glancing at me and my repaired wings, their voices low as they whisper into their friends’ ears.

I want to throttle every last one of them—even those who weren’t closed up in Mara’s throne room with me. How can anybody be okay with what’s happening to humans here?

Meanwhile, the waiters keep finding reasons to come by my table, some to whisper a quiet thanks, others to discreetly drop off an extra pastry here and another warm drink there.

“You’re missing out on all the juiciest gossip,” Temper says, pulling me back into the conversation.

“Not if you tell me.” I kick my heels up on the table, the action earning me more whispers.

Temper leans forward. “The fairy who raped the human woman yesterday?”

The food in my mouth turns tasteless. I force myself to swallow. “What about him?”

“He disappeared sometime during the night. Apparently, the only thing left of him was a finger, though some people say it wasn’t a finger at all—that it was his junk.”

I grimace. “Ugh, Temper, couldn’t you have waited for me to finish breakfast?”

Last thing I want to think about is a sexual predator’s severed bits.