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I knew all of this, of course. Not the bit about the roses. Impressive, for a babe. I might have been surprised, had I not seen the force of his magic firsthand. The image of him subduing the deadly skoupuma using nothing more than blades of grass flashed in my mind. But he had not mentioned his fauna-gift. The presence of both kinds of terrestrial magic—that was the thing that made him truly unique among the fae.

“There were those in the terrestrial kingdom who believed I was a danger. My power too great, from too young an age.”

I sensed it immediately—there was more to those sentences. More than he was ready to tell me, I realized just as quickly. Had it been as clear when I spoke, that I too held back? But it wasn’t retaliation that stilled his tongue… but understanding.

That the pain inside each of us—it was too big.

If we opened that door more than a crack, it would take over.

“Our kind are vicious,” Arran said. An unequivocal truth.

“They decided to eliminate me.”

My fingers tightened over his.

“I was stolen away from Eilean Gayl on the eve of my eleventh birthday. They tried to kill me.” My breath caught, even as his voice remained steady. “But I would not die.”

My eyes snapped up, ready to meet his. But those dark eyes stared determinedly down, fixed on our hands where they overlapped atop his blade.

“That is when my beast awoke. They held me for forty-seven days. On the forty-eighth, I shifted for the first time and killed everyone in my path. I did not care who or what or why. I did not care for degrees of innocence. I killed every being that crossed my path for the week it took my beast to travel north, to return to Eilean Gayl. Until I stood before my mother one again, and shifted back into the male.”

My heart ached for him. My torture had been contained to myself. But Arran, his power had been used against him. Tortured from him until its only instinct was to kill—an urge I understood. What was dead could not rise again to torture and maim.

For a second, I wanted to tell him everything. To complete the circle—he’d been tortured because of his magic. I’d been tortured for my lack of it. It was the cruelest sort of irony, that in this twisted way we were perfectly matched.

But I could not bring him anymore pain. I could not make this any worse than it already was. I could bear the secret. I’d borne it my entire life.

Just a bit longer.

I could do it, just a bit longer.

But what I couldn’t do was let go of him.

I threaded my fingers through his, lifting our hands off of the head of the axe and bringing them to my lips.

A strand of long dark hair had fallen free of the knot at the back of Arran’s head. It made him look younger—a ridiculous notion. He was a three-hundred-year-old fae warrior. But it was an effort to drag my eyes away from the thick, dark lock to his eyes. Unreadable, unfathomable eyes. Not glowing with lust—for once—but thick with emotions neither of us dared to name.

I pressed my lips to the back of his hand. I whispered against his skin. “I see you—all of you. And I am not afraid.”

A second of thanks—a flash in those dark eyes—and then the fire returned.

A low, feral growl ripped from Arran’s throat as he hooked one arm under my knees and the other around my shoulders. He carried me out of the water gardens, using his magic to sever the locks, kicking the gate closed behind us.

Over his shoulder, I glimpsed what he’d wrought.

The way was barred—the majestic waterfalls and bridges completely obscured by a jungle of deadly vines and thorns.

58

ARRAN

I unleashed my power. Let it flow around me in terrifying waves, clearing our path. The growl of my beast traveled on the wind, vines springing from every potted or hanging plant, chasing away any courtiers.

This moment was ours. Veyka’s and mine.

The only ones standing firm were Gwen and Gawayn, at the doors of Veyka’s apartments. The former knew my power, would have recognized it. The latter was too damn loyal and noble to be scared away.

But I didn’t care about them. I kicked in the doors to the antechamber, then the ones to the bedroom. None of the winged handmaidens came running.