Page 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

H alf an hour later, I find myself sitting on a rock by the shore.

I kept my head down as Thorne led me through the streets, my trembling fingers clasped in his gloved hand. I’m not sure how far we walked, but I can still hear the faint buzz of the marina in the distance. Thankfully, this cove appears to be deserted. The gentle waves carry a fresh citrus breeze. If I could have chosen a place to recover from the horrors of the morning, it would have been this one.

I should probably be worried about why he’s brought me all the way out here, but I’m not. Strangely, I find that I trust him. The realization hits hard, nearly knocking me off the boulder.

I trust Thorne.

I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I began to think of him as an ally. We aren’t friends exactly, but I trust him not to slide a dagger between my shoulder blades. And in my experience, that’s rare.

He crouches by the water, dousing a faded white cloth into the waves. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he returns to my side and kneels at my feet. His hand reaches for me, and I rear back on instinct.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, holding up the handkerchief in his hand to show me it’s not a threat. “I won’t hurt you.”

I force myself to stay put as he leans forward again and wipes the blood from my cheeks, erasing the evidence of my failure. I try not to stare at his face while he works, but it proves impossible. It’s only been a few days since we were this close, but already, I note small changes. A few more freckles have appeared on his nose, no doubt a gift from the unforgiving sun we’ve been under all morning. They soften him slightly, adding a hint of boyishness to his appearance.

“I thought you didn’t want me touching you.” The idiotic words tumble out of my mouth without permission.

“You’re not touching me,” he says. “I’m touching you.”

We sit in silence for a few moments as he goes about his task. The cloth is soft against my skin. I spot a floral design embroidered into the corners of the material, and I can’t help but wonder who gave it to him? Was it from a lover? My fingers dig into the rock beneath me.

“I’m sorry for the way I snapped at you that day,” Thorne says, surprising me. “I just… I don’t like being touched.”

“You’re handing out a lot of apologies today,” I murmur.

“Only to you.” One corner of his mouth kicks up in a half smile. “It seems I’m constantly on my worst behavior whenever you’re around.”

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people.”

He chuckles, the sound rough and warm, but his humor fades quickly.

“What happened back there?” His cool eyes scan my face, searching for answers.

“Nothing.” I shift my gaze, focusing on the waves meeting the shore in a cascade of white foam.

“You kept calling her Leona.”

My eyes shut tight as the name echoes through my body. No one says it aloud anymore. Gone less than a year, and she’s already been forgotten. But not by me. She haunts every step I take. Each time I lift my blade as the Angel of Mercy, in some delusional corner of my mind, it’s her I’m saving. With each kill, I’m rewriting the story, reaching her before it’s too late. But that’s just another lie I tell myself.

No amount of pretending will change the fact that I was too late.

I didn’t save her.

It was my fault she died, and that can never be undone.

“That was the queen’s name, wasn’t it?” Thorne presses, his voice painfully soft. “You two were close?”

My chin quivers as tears threaten to overflow. “She was like a mother to me.”

“What happened?”

“I let her down,” I whisper.

The words create another crack in that mental prison where I store my shame. A thousand memories leak from the fissure, each one ripping me apart from the inside out. The warmth of her voice. The smell of her perfume. The little sound she’d make in the back of her throat when she was focusing deeply on something. The gentle scratching of her fingernails against my scalp, soothing me after a nightmare.

Tears escape my eyes, freely falling down my cheeks as Thorne tries in vain to catch them all with his handkerchief.

If I could rip these memories from my mind and give them to Della, I would. She deserves them more than me. Let her treasure them. Let her find joy in remembrance rather than the shame I feel.

I don’t know how long I sit there crying, but Thorne never leaves. He stays by my side, watching the tide until my tears finally abate. At some point, he put the handkerchief in my hand, allowing me to soak it in my grief.

“I was close to my mother,” he say, barely above a whisper.

I turn my head to observe him, my mind catching on a single word. “ Was ?”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly.

“She died. It was my fault,” he admits.

“I’m sorry,” I say honestly. It’s a pain I know all too well, and I wouldn’t wish that kind of guilt on my worst enemy. “What happened?”

“My father was very…” He trails off, running his fingers through his dark waves as he searches for the right words. “He was a difficult man. Paranoid. He kept my mother and me isolated from the rest of the world. He said it was to protect us, but I knew it was more about control.”

Goosebumps travel over my arms as he speaks. Listening to him is like looking in a mirror and expecting to see my own reflection staring back at me, but instead, I find his. I already know where this story is heading, but I sit quietly and listen anyway.

“My father hired this enchanter to watch us.” He spits the word, his fists clenching at his sides. “He was powerful, even more than your friend Darrow. My father ordered him to craft a tonic for my mother that would make her believe she was happy, that she was content to be a captive.”

A wave of horror washes over me. What Baylor has done to me is vile, but I can’t imagine being stripped of my own inner emotions. I know what it is to be controlled, but at least I’ve always been safe inside my mind. My thoughts are my own, even if my actions are not. My heart breaks for this woman and the suffering she endured.

The suffering her son was forced to witness.

“Seeing her with that complacent smile on her face and her pupils blown wide was terrible, but what happened when it would wear off was even worse.” He winces. “You see, the effects of the tonic didn’t last forever. It needed to be readministered whenever it wore off, and over time her body developed a resistance to it. What started as a monthly dose soon became weekly. And when that didn’t work anymore, it was daily.”

I remember Darrow warning of something similar when I asked him about binding spells. My fingers trail over the rubies at my throat as I imagine the fate that might have been mine if Baylor hadn’t used the collar to control me. What other methods would he have employed?

“We’d know it was wearing off because she’d fly into a rage,” Thorne continues, his body tense with years’ worth of pain. “Or worse, slip into a sadness that nothing could pull her out of. It was as if that tonic stole her ability to regulate her emotions. It ate up all of her joy, and when it was gone, she was left with nothing but anger and sorrow. And then my father’s guards would hold her down and pry open her mouth, forcing her to choke down that fucking poison again.” He speaks the words through clenched teeth. “And a few minutes later, she’d be smiling as if she hadn’t just been screaming and clawing for her life.”

“I’m sorry, Thorne,” I tell him honestly. “No one should experience what she went through. And those who were responsible deserve death.”

His head jerks in a semblance of a nod before he clears his throat and continues, still staring at the sea.

“The guards used to clip my wings every night, so that I couldn’t fly away. Not that I knew how. My mother and I were never allowed in the sky. But since we would always heal quickly, they didn’t take any chances. One night, I wasn’t cooperating. I was angry and lashing out at any of them who came close to me. I knew it was useless, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of letting them slice into me again. I just couldn’t do it.”

His voice turns pleading, as if he’s begging me to understand. And I do. Without thinking, I reach out for his gloved hand, taking it in mine. He goes still, but he doesn’t rip it out of my grasp.

“They were holding me down and shredding my back with a whip. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, but still, I refused to summon my wings for them.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “That’s when they brought my mother in.”

Ice slithers over my skin, as I realize what he’s about to tell me.

“One of them was pointing a knife at her heart.” His fists clench into tight balls. “I knew they wouldn’t kill her, since doing that would guarantee their own death by my father’s hands. But I had no idea how far they were willing to go, so I gave in. I stopped fighting them and summoned my wings…” He trails off, swallowing before he continues. “But what none of us knew was that my mother’s tonic was wearing off. They had just begun to cut one of my wings when she started screaming like mad for them to let me go. They did what she said, but the guard continued to hold her. I’ll never forget the look on her face.”

His voice breaks off as he clears the emotion from his throat.

“She was resigned, but there was a spark of hope there that I hadn’t seen in years. Her eyes met mine, and she whispered a single word. Fly. And then she grabbed hold of the man’s hand and drove his knife through her chest.”

I thought my eyes were done producing tears, but I realize I was wrong as one trails down my cheek. “It wasn’t your fault. You have to know that, Thorne.”

He doesn’t answer, and I don’t blame him. If he told me Leona’s death wasn’t my fault, I wouldn’t believe him either.

“What did you do then?” I ask.

“Everything was silent for a moment as the reality of the situation set in. Then all of the guards began to panic. They knew my father would kill them all. I heard one of them shout to blame it on the kid, and next thing I knew, they were all swarming me. I felt something snap, like a power that had always been hiding beneath the surface was finally breaking free. My shadows were unleashed for the first time, and I slaughtered each and every one of them. The snakes ripped them to pieces.”

“Good.”

His eyes slide to mine. “So vindictive, Angel.”

“What did you do after?” I ask, ignoring the shivers that race through me whenever he calls me that.

“I picked up my mother’s body and took her to the cliff by our cottage. I figured either I’d learn to fly, or we’d sink into the sea together. It wasn’t easy since I’d never been able to use my wings before, but somehow, I did it. It was painful, but I got us out of there. I couldn’t leave my mother’s body behind, trapped in that awful place. She deserved to be free.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

I feel a sharp crack in my chest. “Fates… I’m so sorry, Thorne.”

He nods.

“What happened to your father?” I ask. “And to the enchanter ?”

He opens his mouth to speak but stops when a male voice calls his name.

We both stand as we spot a tall blond fae treading through the sand, dressed in dark trousers and a white tunic that is unbuttoned down to his chest. His features are stereotypically handsome. Straight nose and full lips. An angular jaw that’s perfectly proportioned to his high cheekbones. As the newcomer’s gaze switches from Thorne to me, a flirtatious smile breaks across his face.

“And who do we have here?” he asks, his voice low and seductive as he stops a few feet away.

“Griffen, this is Lady Iverson,” Thorne replies, his tone suddenly turning cold.

“The wraith !” Griffen’s eyes widen as his hand moves to his chest. “You are even more lovely than people say.”

I bark out a laugh. “I imagine ‘lovely’ isn’t the word they use when describing me.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, a dangerous twinkle in his eye. “It’s much too tame. If I were to describe you, I’d choose a far more sensual adjective.”

Thorne steps forward, placing his body slightly between me and Griffen. “Watch yourself,” he orders.

Griffen’s forehead wrinkles as his gaze flicks back and forth between us before dropping to the soiled handkerchief in my hands. His eyes go wide as understanding dawns on his face. With his lips pulled into a wide, devilish grin, he leans around the reaper.

“My dear lady, how long have you known my friend here?” he asks, utterly beaming.

“I don’t see how that concerns you,” I say evenly, my eyes narrowing as I try to understand the dynamics at play here.

His brows shoot up as he nods approvingly. “Ah, a suspicious nature. I see you are well matched with my paranoid friend.”

It’s not lost on me that this is the second time he’s referred to Thorne as his friend. The reaper doesn’t correct him, so I suppose it must be true. My curiosity rises.

“And how long have you two known each other?” I ask.

“Too long,” Thorne grumbles.

I bite down on a smile. “Strange you’ve never mentioned your dearest friend Griffen.”

The newcomer gasps, stepping around Thorne to get closer to me. “Frankly, I’m hurt to hear that.”

Thorne rolls his eyes. “You’ll get over it.”

Griffen grabs my hand in his. “Why don’t you ditch him and have a drink with me, Lady Iverson? My broken heart needs mending.”

“Griffen,” Thorne growls, his shoulders tensing.

“Fine.” He tosses me a conspiratorial glance, kissing my hand before he releases it. “Ruin my fun, why don’t you?”

“What are you doing here?” Thorne demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

The humor drains from Griffen’s face immediately as his tone becomes serious. “You’re needed at home. I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

Thorne’s jaw clenches as he turns his gaze to the ocean.

My mouth suddenly turns dry. “You’re returning to the Fifth Isle?”

“It seems I must.” He nods, his eyes full of regret as he turns to me. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

Something heavy sinks into my gut as he turns to his friend.

“Make sure she gets home safe,” Thorne orders, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “And keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

The newcomer scrunches his nose. “Hmm, sounds like quite a feat.”

“Griffen.”

“I’m only joking, old friend,” he says, waving off the reaper’s menacing stare. “I will be an absolute gentleman.”

“Will I see you at the ball?” I ask, hating the question even though I’m desperate to hear the answer.

Thorne’s gaze finds mine, full of some emotion I don’t recognize. “I’ll be there.”

With that settled, he steps back and searches the area to ensure we’re alone. A moment later, his wings rip through his shirt, shooting out around him in another jaw-dropping display. He’s readying himself to fly away when something occurs to me.

“Wait.” I say, hurrying to his side and awkwardly handing him the embroidered handkerchief he’d lent me. “I figured you wouldn’t want to forget this.”

He nods, and the tips of his gloved fingers brush against my palm as he takes it from me. He stares at the fabric for a few moments before stuffing it into his pocket. With one last glance at me, he leaps into the air. I try to track him, but within seconds, he’s nothing more than a black dot on the horizon.

“So…” Griffen draws out the word, pulling my attention back to him. “You seem rather close to my friend?”

“Not really,” I say casually.

His eyes narrow as the wind ruffles his blond hair. “That’s how you’re going to play it?”

My brows rise innocently. “I’m not playing anything.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Keep your secrets.”

“I will.” I smile. “And you should know, I don’t need anyone to help me get home. I’ve got it covered.”

He shakes his head, tucking his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

I grimace. “I’m afraid that will be difficult for you.”

His brow furrows, not understanding my meaning until I disappear before his eyes. He jumps back, nearly falling on his ass before bursting out in laughter. Taking advantage of his distraction, I begin moving down the beach leaping from rock to rock to avoid leaving any footprints in the sand.

“No wonder he’s taken with you,” Griffen calls after me. “But please try to get home safely. If you don’t, it will be my life on the line.”

“No promises!” I shout back.

His laughter follows me all the way back to the docks.