Page 56 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter fifty-three

Beast

I see her.

Through his eyes.

Blurry face. Curled up on the floor.

Crying.

She looks at him—at me.

My Sunfish is sad.

Because I lost control.

I almost hurt her.

Again.

Again!

How could I let it happen twice?

I am a monster.

Monster.

Unworthy.

Beast.

I cower in the back of his mind, where I can become small.

Invisible.

Maybe, if I disappear, she will be safe from me.

Maybe I should let the healer win.

But his magic hurts.

Pain.

Searing pain.

He finds me in the depths of the king’s mind, wrapping around my core, and rips.

Through the king’s mouth, I roar.

I clamber to hold fast. Sink my claws into the darkness. Maintain my grasp.

The healer pulls harder.

Harder.

Pain.

Tearing me in half.

Nahla opens her mouth and sings.

I feel the brush of her mind, barely.

Don’t do this , she says. Her voice is like sunlight through mist on the Rime, breaking me apart.

I ache to hear it.

Why not?

Doesn’t she want to be safe?

“Aethan, stop!” she screams with mind and mouth.

She pushes from the floor. Legs weak. Wobbly.

The healer has hurt her.

No. I did that.

I brought this upon her.

This is my fault, like the healer said.

The blame is mine and mine alone.

She stands. Braces her hand on the wall. Lifts her face to meet the king’s gaze. I stare at her, drinking in her beauty. Memorizing it to store deep within my memory.

Don’t say you’re doing this for me.

But I am. This is for her. I need her to be safe.

Because you think you’re a murderer? Aethan! Tell me, when did you make the kill? You were with me all evening!

I can’t answer her. I shove at her presence, pushing her away.

You are kind. Loyal. A little rough around the edges, sure, but you have compassion and love. I cannot believe you’re a cold-blooded killer. I will not believe it. Stay with me. Please.

No. No. She means the king. The king is all those things. I am not. I am the monster.

You. Will. Stay. Her eyes burn. Glint with fresh tears.

Crying for me or because of her pain?

I can feel the king’s turmoil. His self-loathing mixes with mine.

His love for her.

Our love for her.

Mine.

For a moment, I can’t tell where I end, where he begins.

For a moment, we are one.

We consider her words. Maybe she’s right. Maybe—

“BEGONE!” Lucas rumbles.

Then the magic floods us.

Drowning.

Washing me out.

Bright, searing wave.

Burning.

Pulling.

Crushing.

Pain—