Page 29

AMELIA

Fists rain down on me, and I try to shield my face. Lord Nevel’s sneering voice fills the room. He’s hurling accusations and curses at me again. I make myself as small as possible on the bed, praying he’ll tire himself out soon and leave me alone.

Fear grips me, and when I peek out from between my fingers to look at him, his features are twisted and grotesque. He slaps me, and my head reverberates with the force of the blow. He appears more incensed than ever.

“Please stop,” I beg. “Please leave me alone.”

He grabs my throat and squeezes. “I’m going to kill you, you fucking witch!”

He squeezes harder, and I thrash around, desperately trying to fight him off. It doesn’t work, and I soon find myself on the verge of passing out.

On the verge of dying.

Black spots cloud my vision, and I feel myself slipping away and away, though unfortunately, as my consciousness fades, my fear remains as strong as ever.

“Amelia!” a familiar voice reaches me, and the pressure around my neck ceases. I gulp in a huge, much-needed breath and bolt upward in bed.

I open my eyes and find myself staring at a huge, dark-haired fae male. Tristan. Oh, gods. It was just a dream. A horrible nightmare.

I blink a few times and see the light coming from outside the tent. It’s morning. Has Tristan been gone all night?

He scoots closer and places a comforting hand on my arm. “Sweet human, are you all right?”

I stare at him as the residual fear from my nightmare dissipates. I’m safe. I’m in Tristan’s tent. I’m his captive, but I’m safe. Safe from Lord Nevel. Even if the bastard is still looking for me, he’ll never manage to steal me away from the powerful, fae general who’s promised to never let me go.

“I-I had a bad dream,” I finally say. I force in a few deep breaths, and though my fear has started to fade, I’m still trembling in the aftermath of the shock. “It felt so real, and I was certain I was about to die.” I wrap my arms around my center and burst into tears.

Tristan lifts me in his arms and carries me to the sofa, then he sits down and holds me close.

He nuzzles his nose to mine for a moment before placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

He also withdraws a handkerchief from his pocket and dries my tears.

As quickly as I started crying, I stop, and I sink deeper into his embrace, soaking up the comfort he’s offering.

“Shh, sweet human, it’s all right. It was just a nightmare. Nothing will hurt you. I will always, always, protect you.” He kisses my forehead again, and I sense his worry and his affection for me.

He strokes my hair and keeps kissing my forehead and cheeks. He also finishes drying my tears with the handkerchief, then he sets the cloth aside and gives me a reassuring look. “Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“Lord Nevel,” I whisper, and I hate saying his name aloud.

Tristan’s visage melts with understanding, and he increases the caresses to my hair.

I close my eyes briefly and relish his warmth and the profound sense of safety I feel in his arms. Lavender and other calming scents fill the air, and I’m touched that he’s doing everything in his power to help me settle.

“Amelia, there’s something I must tell you. Perhaps it will help with the nightmares, and perhaps it won’t. But I must tell you. It feels wrong to keep it a secret from you, even for a little while.”

As I stare at him, the truth fills my head in a series of images.

He’s thinking about how he spent the early morning hours.

He’s remembering the visit he paid to Lord Nevel and the brutality he visited upon the man.

Oh, gods, he’s also recalling the old lord’s confession about why he kept beating me—because he couldn’t consummate our marriage and blamed me for his failures.

Tristan knows.

He knows everything.

“You killed Lord Nevel,” I say, deciding I can no longer hide my ability to know his thoughts, especially when I’m aware that he can sense mine.

“You tortured him, questioned him, and eventually, you cut off his head. His head rests in a grain bag right outside the tent. No, to answer your question, I don’t want to see it.

Feel free to place his head on the parapet if you want.

Or toss it into the forest for the boars to find. ”

Tristan draws back slightly, and his dark eyes go wide. He opens his mouth as though to speak, but then a knowing look comes over him. Before he says a word, I have a good idea of what he’s about to say. “You can sense my thoughts, and you now realize that I can sense yours.”

“Yes.” There’s no point in lying. No point in hiding the truth. Not anymore.

Are we fated mates?

Or are we only meant to be war prize and master?

I’m not sure, but I pray there’s a path for us that doesn’t involve heartbreak. The thought of one day being parted from Tristan makes my soul reverberate with sorrow.

Can you hear me, Amelia? To my great shock, his voice resounds in my mind. I gasp.

Yes, yes, I can hear you , I send him the thought, pushing it down the tether that I sense strengthening between us. Can you hear me?

Yes, sweet human, I can hear you. His deep voice is a soothing rumble in my head.

Oh, gods, what does this mean? I ask him.

I peer at him intently, not brave enough to voice my ideas on the matter, even though I’m certain he knows them.

He’s having the same thoughts right now, and it would seem it’s a suspicion he’s harbored for months, since the moment he looked into my eyes in the Sorsston castle.

Yet he tried to push it away and tried to convince himself it simply couldn’t be possible.

Because I’m a full-blooded human, and he always believed the gods would match him with a powerful, highborn fae female.

He cups my face. “I think it means you’re my fated mate.”