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“They are like vague dreams to me. Short lives and forgettable. I only remember the moments we died.”

“Always elves?”

“Yes, I think the elven form is the only body that can hold our immortal souls because of their innate magical nature. I suppose we could have been dragon shifters but that’s not what fate dealt.”

It made perfect sense given how many elves had been mages at one time.

“It’s not going to happen again,” Hel promised.

The scraping of the branches on the window made her jump. All this talk of death and seeing Thane like that put her on edge. “How could the council be so ruthless toward us? Killing us over and over—it’s extreme. Do we ever get forgiveness?”

“It’s not about forgiveness. It never was.”

“Then what?”

“It’s about power, Valeen. We threaten theirs. You could never be controlled by them. You didn’t bend the knee.” Then Hel lifted a shoulder and sat on the end of the bed. His weight shifted her toward him slightly. He kept his distance and stared down at his hands. “I don’t know about you but I’m not waiting for forgiveness. I will fulfill the vow I made them a long time ago. I will rule there, and they will regret ever punishing us like this.”

“That’s why you need the pale ones, isn’t it? To fight for you.”

He nodded. “As much as it’s regrettable what they are, they were a gift. An army without morals, without fear, and with a sole purpose of serving me. There is a part of me that feels guilty that somehow I am responsible for the curse. That I am responsible for the loss of so many innocent lives and if I could go back in time, I’d find out where I went wrong and stop it before it happened, but I can’t.” He was quiet for a moment. “I am selfish. And I will use them to take my revenge. Just as I will use you, and War, and Varlett.” He looked over at her, stared into her eyes. “Never forget what I’ve become, Valeen. Trust only that I will do what I must and not what is good. I am not like War, and I never will be.”

A chill ran along her spine. Hel was wicked, horrible, but it wasn’t without reason. She finally understood him and everything he’d done. The council murdered them over and over and would keep doing it, so he had to become a monster as evil as they.

She slipped her legs under the blanket and lay back down on her pillow. “I will fight with you, Zaurahel. When I’m ready. I will help you take down the council.” And it only hit her after she said it. Mathekis and Varlett had been correct when they told her she’d stand beside him.

His eyes glittered in the moonlight shining in from the window. “You only use my full name when…” He closed his mouth and scooted back on the bed to lean on the wall it was propped against. With a deep breath, he folded his hands over his abdomen. “Go to sleep, Val.”

She believed every word he said about not trusting him, but she didn’t feel in danger with him near. She didn’t fear he would hurt her while she slept. She didn’t fear him at all anymore and that probably made her a fool, but her eyelids were heavy and even if she wondered when it was she only used his full name, she couldn’t stay awake to ask.

* * *

Layala woketo sunshine filtering in through the curtains. Surprisingly, she didn’t have another nightmare. Just usual dreams shifting from one odd thing to the next. Her spinning in a field of wildflowers with butterflies lifting off blooms was the one thing she recalled. She was oddly at peace this morning. Tears didn’t threaten to overwhelm her like many mornings due to a broken heart.

A light wind made the old manor creak and groan. The tip of her nose was icy, but she was warm and cozy under her blankets and extra warm against her back. There was also something… solid there. And something heavy across the topside of her ribs. She didn’t dare move but glanced down to find a rune-tattooed hand resting on her torso.Holy Maker above.Gentle breath brushed the back of her neck and her whole body tensed. He was on top of the blanket. She was under. The quilt was a barrier but sleeping beside him created intimacy, a trust that wasn’t quite there before.

Part of her wanted to go back to sleep and curl further into him.

But she slowly wiggled toward the edge of the bed, and his arm tightened around her, pulling her back to him. Closer than before. Her belly seemed to jump, and her heart fluttered faster. Turning her head ever so slightly, she saw he was still asleep. With his hair half across his face and curled up on his side, he looked serene. Gentle even. It wasn’t a word she’d have ever associated with him before but in his sleep he was not a vengeful god. Not someone filled with hate, bitterness, and regret. With a light touch she pushed the hair off his face and marveled at him.

Stop inspecting him and escape, Layala. Right.If she lifted his arm off he’d wake up and she blushed just thinking of what he might say. If she didn’t, she was stuck cuddling with him, and he had to wake up eventually. The last thing she remembered, he sat near her feet.

Trying her best not to disturb him, she scooted again, hoping to slip out unnoticed. He mumbled something that sounded like “I love cows,” and she pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

Carefully, she pulled the corner of the blanket and lifted it, and his fingers brushed against the small gap of exposed skin on her stomach. Goosebumps rose across every inch of her and then his breathing changed—less deep and rhythmic. She froze. The tension suddenly thickened between them. He was certainly awake. And he knew that she knew.

She couldn’t stay any longer and slipped out, setting her feet on the freezing floor. Why was it so cold in here? The wind outside must be bitter and the cracks in the house let in a breeze. Goosebumps rose along her arms and across her skin. She wanted to dive back under the blankets.

Without looking back or saying a word, she padded across the wood floor. The boards squeaked lightly under her weight. She cringed each time, until she stooped to the fireplace and picked up the flint. She tossed a bundle of dry grass on top of the wood and hit the stones together creating sparks. After several tries she cursed under her breath. She’d done this a thousand times and yet the stupid thing wouldn’t light.

Suddenly heat flared and the fire roared. The wood burned hot instantly, popping and sizzling. She turned and Hel sat up on the bed, leaning casually back against the headboard. He still looked sleepy, with heavy eyelids and disheveled hair.

“Thanks,” Layala said, holding her palms close to warm up her cold fingers. The heavy silence stretched between them.

He finally said, “You were shivering.”

She stood and turned to warm her backside. “What?”

“Last night. You were cold.”