Page 115 of Liar Witch

Glamour makes our eyes useless, but the ceiling is too low for flight, so the creak of floorboards will still give away where they are.

Nilsa’s hand leaves my shoulder as she turns to face someone behind us. But I don’t have time to keep an eye on her opponent as the air shifts to my left. I strike out, my blade connecting with bone in a jarring clash that almost wrenches it free of my grip.

The warrior flickers back into visibility in shock, and from there, it’s a simple matter of collecting his head.

One down. I flick my gaze back to Nilsa. There’s a body on her bed with its guts spilling out everywhere, and the sigils on her back are glowing fiercely as she fends off another attacker.

My distraction costs me, and iron traces another burning line across my side. My latest attacker loses a wing for the insult. The loss of such a vital part of him sends him off balance and makes him easy pickings.

Four to go.

The next tries freezing my feet to the floor, but there are very few fae who have a better grasp of ice magic than me—even with Nilsa’s proximity testing my control—and I shift out of the hold like it’s nothing.

By the time I’ve finished them off and turned back to Nilsa, I’m breathing heavily. She’s kneeling in a pile of death, blood coating her skin as she watches to make sure they’re truly gone. I check the bodies around me, dismembering the one she got with her blade earlier, just in case.

“SoPrinceKieran,” she begins, stepping down from her bed with a look of disdain at the warriors on it. “When were you going to mention that having your curse broken was the only way you could return to Faerie?”

Shit.

I can see the assumptions forming in her eyes as she strides past me towards a drawer and yanks out a small vial swirling with moonlight magic, downing it with a grimace.

“Sobriety spells always taste like shit,” she mutters so quietly I don’t think I’m meant to hear it.

She runs a stained hand through her long, black hair and turns back to me. “I suppose I can’t really lecture you on hiding things, can I?” Her humourless laugh sends chills down my spine.

Nilsa has already decided that I’m just playing her, trying to get back to a palace and a position I never wanted in the first place.

“I can’t believe I was going to… Well, actually, I can. I’ve done stupider things while drunk.” She turns her back on me, heading for the window, and it’s the last straw.

I can’t let Cedwyn ruin what we’ve built. Not like this. The loss of her after the hope that filled me just hours before will crush me.

My shoulder and side are still burning from the iron. Lethargy spreads through my veins at a harrowing speed. I brace myself, anyway, dropping my glamour to allow myself to focus on getting the words out.

“I will never return.”

Four words is pushing my limits. The curse ignites every cell in my body with agony. Yet I can’t stop. She still hasn’t turned back around, her arms hugging her waist defensively. I should let myself recover before I speak again, but I don’t.

“I renounced the title. I will never—”

My vocal cords seize and air leaves my lungs in a rush, choking me. The pain of the curse is constant now and my wings flare out, trying to shake away the effects, but I push through it.

“This crew is family.”

My legs give out, dropping me onto one of the fallen warriors, and my vision blurs as a spasm rocks through me. My control over my power—already sketchy around her—slips further until it starts to snow inside. Still I fight to keep looking at her past the blackness encroaching at the edge of my vision.

“You areeverything.” It’s the truth. She’s the mate I’d given up waiting for. In my darkest moments, I believed Fate had taken her away to punish me.

“Kier, stop talking,” she scolds, turning to face me again, only to freeze. Her eyes go wide as she catches sight of me.

“I cannot lie,” I remind her. But the words are slippery, my tongue failing under the constant onslaught of the curse.

My voice, already rusty from disuse, breaks and cracks. A curious numbness starts invading my limbs.

I can’t give into it. I have to convince her.

“Kieran Froshtyn.” My true name. The only thing which has power over me, though I’m not even sure I manage to say it with my numb lips.

Blackness beckons.