Page 8 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

My arm extends without thought. Lenore’s breath hitches as my fingertips sweep along the exposed flesh.

Heat overtakes the tips of my fingers, creeping past my elbow and over my shoulder.

The sensation spreads down into my chest and surrounds my heart and turns the world askew for several moments.

I’m lost at sea, waves thrashing me about, stealing my bearings as I have done to those in my cursed river.

My vision blurs into a seasick portrait of black-spotted trees and shimmer-edged scenery.

Her skin is like sunlight beneath my touch, beaming, perfect, but unforgiving in its loveliness.

A loveliness that damns me on the spot. I stumble backward, cursing myself.

I’m now forever haunted. Haunted by the need for more. Haunted by the knowledge that I cannot have it. Haunted by the realization that I’ll do anything to make it mine.

Lenore

Death robbed me of peace. I fit in even less now than in the days past. The others mistake me for morose.

In reality, I just don’t like people that much.

I feel closer to these old bones than to the skeleton within me or the skeletons hiding in the flesh facades of those around me.

I’m tarnished now. Unmade by those men. Why is it that men of great power always use it to break beautiful things?

The scar hidden beneath yet another carefully crafted collar is a never-fading reminder of what happened.

Death’s mocking laughter pierces my ears each time I look in the mirror.

I cannot change the past. Some days, I don’t think I want to.

For what I gained that day is far more useful than the simple life I lived before.

The power of resurrection . That is what the doctor called it.

I brought myself back from the dead. One minute I was plunged into a kingdom of night, and the next, I was staring into my parents’ faces.

How did it happen? I can’t be sure. Nor can I be certain of how this new gift is able to be transferred to others.

All I know is that the first time I stumbled upon an animal in its final moments, something awoke within me.

Touch it, save it, bring it back , a calling within me urged.

I’d listened, and in doing so, discovered my ability to bring animals back.

My mother is the only one who knows about my gift.

She calls me a healer. But I cannot heal anything.

Healing implies helping the living. My touch connects only with those who are already dead.

It’s not perfect. There are times I’ve tried and tried but the animal was too far gone.

When that happens, I bury them nearby and come back for their bones to add to my garden, where they’ll never be alone and never be forgotten.

I haven’t told another soul about this place.

I’d venture a guess that the all-seeing Elowynne knows of it.

My mother’s abilities are the reason Roseheart remains lush and beautiful year-round.

Every area touched by her hand is given life.

The day I made this my sanctuary, it was barren ground.

One afternoon, I returned to find it in full bloom.

To have those floral gifts extend to this long-forgotten part of the castle grounds seems more than coincidence.

She’s never brought it up, and I don’t believe she ever will.

I suppose we’re both life-giving in our own ways.

Magic users are believed to be extinct. All magic was considered dangerous after what happened in the dark forest. Many were hunted down, their lives unfairly taken.

Those remaining went into hiding. My mother’s gifts are suspected by many, but she is so beloved by her people.

The ability to grow beautiful things is no reason for a witch hunt.

Especially considering the queen’s touch helps the crops to flourish, keeping the kingdom well fed.

No one can prove her gifts exist. It’s only speculation.

My gift, on the other hand, would likely be seen as dark, wicked, the touch of the devil himself.

It is against nature, is it not? Was that how the young queen felt when she tried so desperately to rid herself of her magic?

It must have seemed like such a blessing when that power first flowed through her veins.

Tragically, she lost control. My mother has said it a thousand times: All magic has a price .

What will mine cost me? Probably a permanent spot on the devil’s “torture for all eternity” list. I doubt he enjoys me snatching animal souls back from the brink of death.

Or maybe my changing the lives of a few animals here or there isn’t drastic enough to warrant his attention.

Regardless, I don’t plan on stopping. Someone gave me this ability. I intend to honor them by using it.

A ghostly sensation drifts along the back of my neck, giving me pause.

I’m being watched . But who could find their way into my secret space?

My thoughts turn to the black-winged man.

I don’t turn around. I’m too afraid he’ll vanish again.

I roll a weathered fox femur between my fingers, debating my next step.

Should I run, screaming? He may be a demon, a ghost, some terrible thing of darkness.

But those eyes, like melted stars, fill my dreams. I crave to see them up close.

The desire to touch his moonlit skin, to run my fingers through his icy locks, to stroke those great, black wings…

“I know you’re there.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Silence. I don’t dare to move, barely dare to breathe. If he’s really there… If there’s a chance I can…

“Is that so?” a voice like pure night answers me. The tone of that deep, silky voice burrows beneath my skin, melting into me, igniting a fire deep in my belly.

“Yes.” My heart beats so wildly I wouldn’t be surprised if it sprouted wings and flew from my chest. I wait, hoping to hear that voice once more.

“What would you do with that knowledge, little raven, queen of bones, giver of life?” I can almost hear the smirk quirking up on what I imagine are beautiful lips.

His choice of nicknames has me holding my breath. I didn’t think anyone was watching me with the elk. Giver of life . What else can he mean? I choose not to address that concern right now. Instead, I ponder his question.

What will I do ? I keep my eyes to the ground, running my thumb up and down the loose bone as I think.

“I would ask you to show yourself.” A longer silence than the others before.

I’ve scared him off. Damn my eagerness. “I’m Lenore—Roseheart.

The… the Princess of Roseheart.” I shake my head, immediately regretting the words.

It sounds so pretentious when I introduce myself with my title.

I don’t know why I did it. Nerves have me babbling.

“Will you tell me who you are? Will you show yourself?”

Electricity races through my jumpy nerves when he speaks again. “You are not ready, little raven. But soon.”

Air rushes past me, accompanied by the soft sound of wings taking flight. No . I spin around, moving toward the voice with outstretched arms. I find nothing in the space behind me. My head snaps from side to side, seeking what I already know is gone.

My shoulders drop. I’m going mad. A side effect of being brought back from the dead, no doubt. I should have known it would only be a matter of time before there were repercussions. Defying death surely comes with a cost.

A flutter from above draws my gaze toward the sky. A single, black feather drifts down from the grey clouds above, landing in front of me. I take it between my fingers, a smile growing on my face. He’s real .

The sound of my name being called by multiple voices startles me into action.

I tuck the feather into my bag, ducking out my hidden entrance.

The hour is late. Sunset’s vibrant palette has already begun to shift into the shadowy tones of a gloomy winter night.

Wandering off during the day is one thing; being unaccounted for in the evening will have my father releasing the entirety of his army to track me down.

Hidden eyes follow me as I make my way back to the castle. This time I don’t turn to look. He’s there . But who is he ? That remains a mystery. For now.