Page 18

Gluttony

“Will you dance with me?” “You know I can’t dance.” “I’ll forgive you.” “Saeran.” “A slow dance, with you holding me. Please?” “Just one.”

Saeran’s wings have more life to them than they had earlier. Something’s wrong with him, and he’s still keeping secrets. Big fucking surprise.

His hips sway enticingly as he walks ahead of me, and my eyes are drawn to them. Is he doing it on purpose, or am I imagining it? Everything about him makes my mind fuzzy, like everything else in the world is blurred, and all I can see with perfect clarity is him. I hate it as much as I’m slowly starting to crave it. I want more of it. More of him . With no more fucking secrets.

Curling my hands around his waist, I halt him. My stomach clenches at his stuttered breath. It becomes ragged when I press my lips to his ear. “Why did you collapse earlier? You weren’t injured.” Far from it. He’d been holding his own remarkably well. The Fae are strong in their own right, but it’s been so long since we’ve fought beside or against them, it’s easy to forget just how formidable they are. We managed to push back the Light the last time they tried to invade this side of the shroud, but it was by the skin of our teeth, and I hate to admit how much luck was with us during that war. And yet… “Why are you so weak?”

“I’m not.”

“Why?” I demand impatiently. No more lies or half-truths. No more skirting around the real issues . Considering who he is, how old he has to be, he shouldn’t be this vulnerable. He should have dominated that battlefield. Chimeras are nothing to a man who once held the palm of the world in his hand. When he ruled, there was no equal. He was the strongest player on the board. Adding in my magic that he can somehow wield? His lack of real strength doesn’t make any sense.

I don’t really expect him to answer, not after everything we’ve been through to get here and how good he is at being evasive. When he does, I want it to be another lie. Another trick.

“I’m dying.”

Nothing but truth in those words. There’s no waver, no hesitation.

“How?” He can’t be. There are very few things in the world that can kill a Fae, even less on this side. And nothing that wouldn’t be visible. They’re immune to disease, to waste, to anything that’s nefarious under the surface. There’d be a wound. Something.

To the naked eye, he’s healthy. The picture of health. Except the wings. Not long ago, they were dull, lifeless. What the fuck’s wrong with his wings? The realization hits me like a fist to the gut, and I answer for him. “Your magic is fading.”

He settles his hands over mine. Clinging to me. “Yes.”

“That’s not possible.” It’s quite literally what he’s made of. Nothing can separate that. One without the other doesn’t exist.

I force him around to face me. “How is that possible? Who did this to you?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. No sound comes out.

I shake him a little, frustration pouring out of me. “Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

Is he fucking kidding me? “And why not?” If he doesn’t have a good enough reason for not telling me something so important, we’re going to have more problems than we already have. I need to know what’s wrong with him, so I can fix it. I also need to know if it can affect my brothers, what’s powerful enough to infect him from the inside.

“If you knew, you would undo everything I’ve sacrificed.”

Does he think that will make me back off? I don’t care about anyone outside these walls. I’m certainly not willing to sacrifice anything for them and especially not my life. Or his.

“And what exactly is it that you’ve sacrificed, Saeran? What’s worth that? Who is worth that?”

He doesn’t answer, of course. The stubborn tilt to his chin is familiar. So defiant, so fucking beautiful I want to display him in my trophy room. Putting a hand around his neck forces him to look at me. No shielding himself from me.

“Who?” I demand. I want answers, and he’s going to give them to me. “Tiernan? The other two?” No, there’s more to it than that. “Others.” His gaze flickers. Jackpot. “How many Fae are right here under our noses?” Hundreds? Thousands? How have we not noticed they’ve been here this whole time?

His lips part, and still nothing comes out. He’s trying to protect them, from me. “Why don’t you trust us?” Why is he still hiding from me?

“We don’t trust anyone. We can’t.”

“What do you know that we don’t?” How many memories have I lost? It’s an acutely uncomfortable feeling, knowing that pieces are missing. That someone fucked with my mind. That they are still doing it. What kind of magic outside of Pride can even do that?

“The problem is that we don’t know everything that happened.”

“The night your court fell, you mean.” The night everything changed. Is it better or worse that I don’t remember? He’s been living with that loss every day since then. No, fuck that. I’d rather be aware than have the choice taken from me. To live with the pain than have it taken from me without getting a say in it. No one does anything to me without my permission.

“I’ll try to explain what I know, once I speak to Deacon.”

Right. His brother . I don’t recall the king having any heirs, sibling or otherwise. “How is he your brother? He doesn’t know he’s Fae, let alone royalty.” There are so many things that I want to ask him. About our connection, about us . He hasn’t been a font of information so far, keeping too many things close to his chest. I want to rip it all out, lay him bare, and learn everything.

He has the key to that locked door, and I’ll make him open it. No matter what I have to do.

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is.” Especially with this man. Seems to be his mission in life to complicate things. “Let’s go see your brother, then.” I’m dying to hear about the secrets he has hidden underneath.

Deacon’s exactly where I thought he would be: in the kitchen, with Lust. They’re cooking something together in a disgusting display of domesticity. The half Fae should never have been let through the front doors, let alone this far into our inner circle. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. What will he do to protect Conor? What won’t he do? Lust may not be watching him for more betrayal, but I am, for both of us.

Lust raises an eyebrow at Saeran but simply says, “The soup is almost ready. Will you be joining us?”

With a grip on Saeran’s elbow, I pull him further into the room and yank a chair out from under the table. “Sit.” I dare him to argue with me.

With a glance at Deacon and Lust, Saeran gracefully slides into the chair, his wings moving out of the way to drape over the back of it. He can’t hide the shudder when I brush my knuckles across them. They’re like the finest silk, soft and delicate. The light, translucent coloring flickers, blues and purples and pinks flashing over it, like delicate glass panes.

Lust stares curiously at Saeran as he places a bowl of steaming soup in front of him and then three slices of bread. The smell isn’t the same, not a loaf of Pride’s making. It fills the stomach, though it’s not half as satisfying.

“I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” Lust says, taking his place opposite. Deacon chooses the seat next to him. I remain behind Saeran, using his shoulders as a resting place. “I’m Lust. This is Deacon.”

“I know who you are.”

“Yeah, how’s that?” Deacon asks, suspicion in his gaze. As if he has a right to be suspicious of anyone. He was the snake in the pit, no one else. He’s the one who came into our home with ill intentions, set on betraying us for a man who previously did the same. Are all three brothers built from the same cloth? Will Saeran complete the triangle of betrayal?

“Everyone knows who the Sins are.”

“And what about me?”

“The man who stole the Demigod of Desire’s heart?” Saeran asks, a smile flirting on his lips.

“That’s not public knowledge.”

“I’m not the public.”

“No, you’re Dark Fae. Once allies, now… what?” Lust breaks off a piece of bread and drops it in his soup. “Are we to trust you blindly? You lied to us about who you are.”

“To protect myself.”

“Which begs the question: why would you need protection from us?”

Saeran’s wings flutter a fraction, barely noticeable. I feel the silk glide against my wrists. The ends twitch when my thumbs press lightly into the back of his neck. Not quite a warning, not quite a caress. Mostly I can’t seem to stop myself from touching him.

“You tell me,” Saeran answers. He tilts his head a fraction as if he wants to look over his shoulder at me, stopping himself at the last second.

“No, I believe you’re the one giving the answers today,” Lust says lightly. “You owe us that much.”

Saeran takes a deep breath, absently stirs his soup with a spoon, and then lets go. “I know you, Deacon, because I once called you brother.”

Deacon pauses, brows drawing down in confusion. “What kind of bullshit is that?” Lust places a hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly.

“It’s the truth.”

“That’s not even possible. You’re… that ”—Saeran raises an eyebrow at the emphasis—“and I have a brother. One. I’d know if I had more.”

“Would you?” Saeran leans back against me as if seeking strength. Is that what he wants? For me to be his pillar? Is that what I once was?

A different kind of satisfaction roars through me. Protector. Guardian. Mine to protect. There’s history there. I may not know it, but somehow I feel it. An alignment of souls, instinct guiding without thought. I don’t need to know him to know him. I sensed him long before I saw him for the first time, and some part of me welcomed him even then.

“Explain. Now,” Deacon says forcefully, half standing, his palms braced on the table. “What the fucking hell are you talking about?”

“Watch it,” I growl in warning. If he takes even one malicious step toward Saeran, I don’t care what he means to Lust, I’ll rip his guts out and leave him bleeding out all over the floor.

Saeran turns his head at that, our eyes meeting. Heat flares, and my heart beats thick and heavy in my chest. Lightning flickers in his gaze, and I know mine are doing the same in return. An answering call. Entwining souls.

“Reincarnation,” Saeran explains, not looking away. “The night we fell, the night everyone in my court was murdered and our culture as we know it was destroyed, you died. You all did. I watched almost every one of you fall, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

“Who is ‘we’?” Deacon asks. “Do you mean Conor?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if Conor is one of us, or whether he’s simply collateral in this.”

“Collateral doesn’t lead the charge against us.” It’s not coincidence the viper so easily got into our midst. He’s playing some kind of part, and his play will end in tragedy. For him.

“What makes you think that we believe a word you’re saying?” Lust asks. “Reincarnation? Memories taken from us? A little fantastical, no?”

“Pride takes memories,” Saeran points out. “Why is it so hard to believe it can happen to you?” He stirs his soup again, clearly not intending to eat it. When was the last time he ate?

“Because Pride is the only one who has the ability, and he wouldn’t do that to us. In our world, we trust family.”

Saeran stiffens, his features hardening. “You think I don’t?”

“I think you’re feeding us scraps and leaving enough breadcrumbs to pique our curiosity without enough to sate it. Manipulative tactics that aren’t earning you any favors here.”

I can’t argue with Lust. He’s right. Saeran still has an agenda here. Whether it’s to hurt us or simply because he’s trying to keep distance, I don’t know.

I’ll find out. He can’t hide from me. There will be no more shadows between us, no distance, and no lies .

He’s tied to me now, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.