Page 132 of Queens

Chapter Forty-Eight

VALERIA

I THINK I’M hungry. It’s hard to know. I’ve been living in a state of semi-consciousness for days, and I’m struggling to distinguish what’s real.

The fates are getting persistent. I haven’t slept in weeks.

My lips curl as Cassia and Rexton appear before me. I’ve never met the once-shadow in real life, but I like him. He snaps at Cassia for doing something odd, and I laugh.

The noise is jarring in the otherwise-silent room.

I cock my head to the side, my smile falling as I realize they aren’t real. The fates are playing with me again. I’m sick of them. They show me too much.

I’m not supposed to see my friends and family. I’m not supposed to know how my mother is going to die or how Silas will refuse to release her rigid body for four days afterward.

I’m not supposed to know that Uncle Chev and his mate will die together. They’re two of the lucky ones. They’re old, and they’re ready for it. His youngest daughter will fight tooth and nail to become the first female alpha of the bear shifters. She excels.

The fates have shown me. They show me everything, even the things I don’t want to see. There have been a few of me throughout history, but not many. Some fates have to know everything. I don’t understand why. That’s conveniently one of the few things kept from me. I have guesses, but guesses are nothing.

Sometimes I think Silas knows. Occasionally, I catch him looking at me with so much sorrow, with so much pain and defeat. It’s his fault. Maybe he knows too much, too. Perhaps he’s lying about how much he can see.

My lips curl when the air around me ripples. It’s about time.

I stare into the dark room, waiting for the intruder to enter my mind. The fates told me to let it happen, and I do. I’m like that human plant, the Venus flytrap. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. This is the last thing I’m doing for the fates.

Either they stop showing me everything, or they lose me. They ask too much, and I’m done.

The demon seeping into my mind comes from a strong bloodline. The fates haven’t told me who he is, but I have my guesses. I love my guesses.

There’s warmth as he slips inside my mind, and I hesitate before snapping myself shut, trapping us both. My awareness of the room vanishes, as does my connection to my physical form.

“You’re late,” I say.

The man doesn’t respond, but I feel his panic. He’s trying to leave. He can’t.

“If you kill me, you’ll die too,” I warn him. I turn, finally laying eyes on my fly. He’s beautiful, but he’s angry. His eyebrows pull together, and he sneers at me with nothing short of pure hatred. It doesn’t bother me. I cock my head to the side. “Who are you, and why have the fates ordered me to capture you?”

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