Page 189

I wanted nothing more than to be able to do so.

“I had my chance, too. When I pulled you out from the cupboard? I was going to then—right then. I was going to end it. But I couldn’t. And I tried again.” Malik’s head fell back as he looked up at the ceiling, and my hand fluttered to my throat where I felt the phantom press of a cold blade. “I tried again, but that time, I saw it—saw what Coralena did.”

I see it. I see her staring back at me.

Those disjointed memories made sense now that they had been pieced back together. “What did you see? Who?”

Malik’s eyes closed then, and all the while, Casteel hadn’t moved. “Her. The Consort. I saw her in your eyes, looking back at me.”

I inhaled sharply as Reaver cursed.

“I don’t know how it’s possible. She’s asleep, right?” Malik said. “But I saw her.”

“The Consort sleeps fitfully,” Reaver said. “Sometimes, things happen that reach her even in sleep, partly waking her.”

“You’re the Dark One,” Casteel said in that deceptively soft way of his. I swung to him, and I should’ve paid attention to him sooner. If I hadn’t been caught up in my discoveries, I would’ve sensed the void of icy rage forming beside me. “You led the Craven to the inn in Lockswood. You went there to kill her.”

“The Craven followed the trail of blood I left behind,” he admitted. “It was the only way I knew I’d get past Coralena and Leo.”

Kieran said something. It caused Malik to flinch, but Casteel was a throbbing mass of fury, and it stroked the essence in my chest. I had to shut my senses down. It was too much.

Casteel’s eyes were a bright gold, and his voice—gods, his voice was smooth and laden with power. A whisper that was a boom had his words falling over my skin and filling the room. “Pick up a dagger, Malik.”

And Malik, Casteel’s brother, picked up a dagger with a shaking hand—a long, thick one with a wickedly sharp blade. The tendons in his neck stood out.

“On your knees,” Casteel demanded.

Malik’s entire body trembled as he obeyed, falling to his knees.

“Put it to your throat,” the King coaxed, his voice velvet and iron.

A compulsion.

He was using compulsion.

Malik did just as he’d been forced to do.

“Just so everyone knows,” Reaver said, “I’m not cleaning up this mess.”

I was rather conflicted. On the one hand, I was glad to see that Casteel had gotten a lot of his strength back. On the other, he was going to force his brother to slit his own throat.

I didn’t know how I felt about that—about the knowledge that it had been Malik. My brother-in-law. I didn’t know how to feel about the fact that I actually understood why Malik felt he needed to do what he had.

But what I did know was that I couldn’t let Casteel do this. It wouldn’t kill Malik, but it would do some serious damage, and Casteel didn’t need that weighing on him. That was a mark I would not let him bear.

I stepped forward, glancing at Kieran. He glared at Malik, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his skin thinning. The wolven would be no help here. “Don’t do it, Casteel.”

“Stay out of this,” he barked, his gaze having captured his brother’s. Casteel’s chin rose. A faint trickle of blood appeared, coursing down Malik’s throat.

“Not going to happen. Malik didn’t harm me,” I reasoned. “He stopped before he could.”

“He stopped before he could? Do you hear yourself?” Casteel fired back. “You were hurt because of him.”

“She was,” Malik whispered.

I shot a glare at the Prince. “You should just be quiet.”

“He left you there to be torn apart by the Craven!” Casteel roared.

“He didn’t, though. He got me out of there,” I said. “I remember now.”

“The Craven had already gotten to her,” Malik told him. “Bit her. Clawed her—”

“Shut up,” I hissed at Malik as a shudder ran through Casteel. Reaching out, I grabbed his arm. “He thought he was doing what was right. It was messed up. He was wrong. But he stopped. He didn’t hurt me—”

“Stop saying that!” Casteel’s head whipped toward me, his eyes swirling, golden spears. With his attention broken, his compulsion on Malik shattered. The dagger hit the floor as Malik’s shoulder slumped. “He did hurt you, Poppy. Maybe not with his hands, but those Craven never would’ve been there if it weren’t for him.”

“You’re right.” I pressed my palm against his cheek, channeling—

“Don’t.” Casteel jerked his head back from my touch. “Don’t you dare use your powers. I need to feel this.”

“Okay. I won’t,” I promised, placing my hand on his cheek again. He didn’t pull away this time, but I felt his muscles flexing under my palm. “You’re right. The Craven never would’ve been there if it weren’t for Malik, but he acted on what Isbeth believed. The fault lies with her.”