Page 49

T he morning had finally arrived, bathing the two of us in a puddle of light, giving a false warmth to skin that had long since grown cold.

I knew my arms should ache from holding him all night, from pressing on a wound that had stopped bleeding hours ago.

But I was numb. My face felt tight, a reminder of the countless tears I’d shed.

They’d finally subsided when my body had nothing left to give. But I knew they’d return.

I fixated on the back of my hand, entranced by the blood that had dried there, memorizing the pattern of cracks. Wondering if my soul looked the same. I was in shock, and somehow that was easier than the thoughts that took turns tormenting me. At this point, I welcomed the madness.

My emotions swung wildly. One moment, I was sure that if I just held him for a little while longer, he’d stop staring at the wall, past what my eyes could see, and tell me everything was alright.

The next, I was back in the nightmare where Jase was dead, and it was my fault.

If I had never come to Hiraeth, none of this would’ve happened.

Gunner would still be alive. So would Jase.

I had become the one thing I hated most. A harbinger of death. A curse on the House of Bruin. Had I unwittingly made a bargain with the reaper? Every time I denied him my soul, was it another notch in his belt against me? Another life to be claimed in my stead?

His dagger still lay beside him. I picked it up with shaking fingers, wiping Johan’s blood from the silver blade.

He hadn’t even bothered to take it. A testament to his assessment of me—I was no threat.

A fragile human girl posed no challenge to him, and my perceived vulnerability made anger well inside me.

Not because he’d underestimated me, but because he was right.

I had done nothing to save Jase. Or Gunner.

I was a liability to everyone I loved, and the knowledge made me sick.

I gripped the blade in my hand, the cold steel of the hilt biting into my palm.

I hadn’t been able to save Jase or anyone else with this knife, but maybe I could spare the lives of those who loved me.

If I ended my life here and now, no one else would suffer for me.

No more lives lost because of me. No more pieces of my soul stripped away.

The more I allowed myself to go down that dark path, the more it felt like mercy.

I lifted the blade to my wrist, laying it across my pulse.

It would be so easy. A single cut. With Jase still in my arms, I could go with him.

“I’m sorry, Gwen,” I whispered to my sister, my emotions caught thick in my throat. The tears breaking loose again.

But before I could move, shadows poured from my palms, curling around the dagger. The darkness snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. The blade dropped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Jase?” I breathed, hope leaching into my mind. I scurried out from under him, his body lying limp on the floor. I had seen his shadows. They had stopped me from doing the unthinkable. That meant something—didn’t it?

I dropped my head to his chest, listening. Desperate for a heartbeat. But there was only silence.

The door burst open. “Oh my Divine, My Lady! Are you alright?” Mirabelle’s voice filled the room as she rushed in, eyes wide at the macabre scene before her.

“Mirabelle,” I said her name like a plea. “Help me. Please! I think he’s still alive.”

She dropped beside me as I leaned over him. I saw the moment her panic faded into resignation.

“Michaela… look at me.” She grabbed my shoulders, gently pulling me upright. I met her eyes, already knowing what she was going to say. I could see it written all over her face.

“Don’t say it,” I whispered. “Don’t. I can’t take it.” I raked my fingers through my hair, my voice rising. “You haven’t even listened. You don’t know for sure.”

“I don’t need to,” she said softly. “He’s gone, Michaela.” She let the finality of her words sit heavy between us as I shook my head, refusing to believe it. “You know it’s true. You can feel it.”

She was right. It felt as though the same wound punctured my gut and a part of me had died with him. A sob escaped my lips and Mirabelle wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back like a child while I fell apart in her lap.

When my sobs had quieted, she held me at arm’s length. “We have to go, My Lady. I need to get you out of here. There’s another guest room down the hall and?—”

“No,” I said, retreating from her touch. “I can’t leave him. Not like this.” I recoiled from her, throwing myself over Jase protectively.

“This”—she motioned gently to his still body—“isn’t him anymore. And I need to prepare you for... Well, that doesn’t matter. I have news.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Just leave me here to die.”

“Don’t say that.” Her voice sharpened. “Your princes are coming for you. We got word last night—they’re planning to infiltrate the castle. I need to get you ready. You can’t stay here.”

“I don’t want them to come,” I whispered. “I only bring death.”

A pinched look crossed her face a moment before her hand connected with my cheek. The slap wasn’t hard, but it was enough to cut through my hysteria.

“I’m sorry. But I had to do that. And I’m truly sorry about Jase. You need to pull yourself together. They’re coming for you whether you want them to or not. Staying here only puts them at risk. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Good. Then kiss your prince one final farewell and let’s go.”

I turned to Jase one last time, drinking in the details of him—his face, his hair, the dagger beside him, still whispering the possibilities of sweet oblivion.

I reached for it, clutching it to my chest. I had Gunner’s blade.

Now Jase’s. My morbid mind wondered if I would have a collection of seven before this ended.

I shoved the thought away. This wasn’t a curse. It was a promise. I would never let this happen again. I brushed the hair from Jase’s brow and pressed a final kiss to his forehead. “Come find me in my dreams,” I whispered before getting to my feet and leaving him forever.

“I’m not wearing that,” I said when Mirabelle laid the dress on the bed. The dark mauve color reminded me of old blood, and I knew Johan had everything to do with the selection. My stomach turned at the thought of wearing it for him. “I’ll wear black.”

Mirabelle sighed. “I’d love nothing more than to place you in a dress of mourning, but this is the only option we have. You have to play nice for a little while longer.”

I ground my teeth, knowing I had no say in the matter, but neither did Mirabelle, so I couldn’t take it out on her.

I stood stoic, allowing her to dress me in the ridiculous ballgown, with its puffed shoulders and embroidered sleeves that hung all the way to the floor.

“Lift your arms,” she murmured, adjusting the corset with practiced fingers.

“Before you finish,” I said quietly, reaching into the folds of my cloak, “I need you to help me with this.” I reached for Jase’s dagger on the vanity.

Her hands stilled. Her gaze met mine, uncertainty clouding her eyes. We both knew grief had made me reckless.

“My Lady?—”

“Please,” I said, my tone harsher than I intended. “Just help me secure it. If anyone sees, they’ll take it from me.”

A tense moment passed, but then she nodded, reaching for the blade with careful hands.

She tucked it between the boning under my breasts, adjusting the folds of silk to hide the outline.

I winced as the cold steel kissed my skin.

The laces tightened uncomfortably, but I didn’t complain when the stays dug into my sides.

I welcomed the physical pain. It kept my focus away from the emotions that threatened to drag me down.

Once she finished, I walked back to the vanity.

I wasn’t sure I recognized the woman staring back at me.

Even with all the makeup Mirabelle had painted on my face, the dark circles under my eyes still showed.

Nothing could hide the fact that my cheekbones were too prominent, that you could count every rib with this revealing neckline.

I hadn’t had access to sprite ash, and death was growing impatient.

I was fading quickly, and the sight actually made me smile.

Maybe nature would simply take its proper course and I’d be dead in a week.

I spotted an inkwell on the vanity. I picked it up, toying with the cool glass bottle.

Its dark depths seemed like a perfect metaphor for my soul.

Without a second thought, I tipped it over, pouring the black ink down the front of the dress.

I’d wear the costume he picked, but I’d make my own statement.

“Johan wanted this body, but he has to know I’m already dead inside,” I said, feeling a flicker of strength return as I voiced the truth aloud.

Mirabelle gasped. “My Lady!” she chided. “You may want to keep that bit of truth to yourself right now. Johan can hurt you in more ways than physical. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

Her words were punctuated by a rumbling blast that shook the doorframe, sending dust trickling from the ceiling. Both of us jumped at the noise, scanning the room for any sign of danger.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe part of the plan?” Another blast rattled the stone walls, and my heart raced with a potent cocktail of anticipation and fear. Was it my beasts? Had they truly come for me?

The loud rumbles continued on in quick succession, sending Mirabelle and I scrambling toward the walls as a commotion sounded in the hallway.

Muffled orders grew louder as they approached.

Mirabelle and I clung to each other, her tiny frame shaking in my arms as we waited to see if whomever was in the hallway would simply pass us by.

Mirabelle shrieked when the door was kicked in. Guards poured into the room—sun glinting off their drawn blades and polished armor. Mirabelle stepped in front of me, steeling herself for whatever came next.

“How dare you enter the ladies’ chambers while she is preparing herself! Have you no decency?” she snapped.

“There’s been a change of plans,” a male grumbled as he stepped forward. A badge marked him as captain. “The king’s moved up the execution ceremony now that all the prisoners have arrived. He’s called for the girl. So ready or not, she’s coming with us.”

What did he mean, all the prisoners have arrived? Another blast shook the room, and I shuddered.

“This is no way to treat a lady,” Mirabelle spat. “If the king wants her, he should escort her himself.”

“The king is preoccupied, and I’m growing tired of your insolence. Stand aside, or I will pull you aside. Your choice.”

“It’s okay, Mirabelle. Now is as good a time as any,” I said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and gently eased her aside.

The captain inspected me, lingering at the low neckline where my breast threatened to spill over. His smirk soured into a scowl when he noticed my ruined dress.

“I’ll see that you’re assigned a more… thorough lady’s maid in the future. But you’ll have to do. Earlic!” he shouted over his shoulder. “I need your seed. The king wants it to look real.”

The guard in question bowed curtly, his cheeks flushing crimson before he dropped his pants. He began jerking off while the others waited. What in the bloody hell was going on?

“We haven’t got all day, Earlic!” the captain barked. The male picked up his pace, flogging himself in wild abandon. I only looked away when his hungry gaze settled on me and my stomach turned. He let out a groan, and the sick sound of slapping finally ceased.

“About time,” the captain said, striding toward me. He grabbed my skirts, yanking them up.

“What are you doing? Don’t fucking touch me!” I protested as I tried to pull away. His free hand captured my wrist and squeezed until I cried out.

“Easy now. Earlic just needs to add the finishing touches. Be a good girl and stop fighting.”

Panic clawed at my throat.

Earlic knelt before my nakedness. One large hand forced my thighs apart, while the other wiped his cum between my thighs and over my sex. I wanted to vomit. I could feel my stomach turn on me as the warmth of it dripped down my thighs—all I could do was wretch as my body trembled.

“Those bastards will smell him on her from a mile away. The king will be pleased,” he said as he stepped back.

The captain dropped my skirts as a sob crept up my throat. I’d been defiled. Even though he hadn’t forced himself on me, I felt violated. I swallowed down the tears with every ounce of courage I could muster. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

The captain took one last appraising look as though he were assessing livestock for slaughter, before turning on his heels and heading for the door. “We’re late. Seize her and let’s be off.”

Two guards came at me, grabbed me around my middle and hoisted me off the ground. “Put me down! Now!” I kicked and flailed, but it was useless. I was no match for them. My own vulnerability and the sticky mess between my legs gutted me to my core.