Against the far wall is a set of windows, freely letting light into the wide-open room. There are dusty chairs and a big table on one end and a dusty fireplace with couches on the other.
“What is this place?” she whispers.
“A meeting room of sorts. It was a gift from Georgio of the Crackling Court, a High King a few hundred years ago. His mate and queen were of the Shadow Court, so he built this place for her.”
“Wow,” Caelynn breathes. Her eyes are wide in awe as she runs her fingers over the dusty furniture. “It’s incredible.”
“It’s said to have been made in the likeness of the Shadow Palace.”
My respect for the Shadow Court went up tenfold the day I first entered this room so long ago; although, it only lasted a few weeks. Because the day a shadow fae assassin slipped into my brother’s room and murdered him, my respect turned to acid and ate away at me.
I remember the way the Shadow Court celebrated his death. They were proud of their young assassin. It’s one of the reasons I respect Caelynn, despite what she’s done—she doesn’t relish the act the way I’d expected based on her court’s reaction.
They painted her to be a hero. Like killing a young fae was something to be revered. But she doesn’t. She hates what she did. And she hates the way they romanticize it.
She did it for me.
“It’s incredible, Rev,” she says, her voice breathy. “They’re phantoms, a relation of the shadow sprites.” She watches the forms on the ceiling.
“They’re living creatures?” I ask. I hadn’t realized. But then, this room always had felt alive.
She nods. “They won’t speak to you directly the way the sprites occasionally do, but they send messages by playing an act. Visitors in the Whisperwood have often said that monsters hunted them, chasing them away from the proper path. Or that there were entire villages of shadow people hiding in the forest. But they are the phantoms. Playing tricks on travelers, or helping, depending on their mood.”
I look up at their moving forms. “What do you think their mood is now?”
A soft hum begins from above us, a gentle beat. Then, the forms shift into a clear image. A couple dancing. Caelynn chuckles. “It’s a waltz.”
I smile. “I think they want us to dance.”
Our eyes meet, and my smile fades as her lips part. She’s hypnotizingly beautiful. I find myself begging for any way to undo the past. For some way for this, us, to be right.
I suppose it can be here in this moment, with no one around to judge us. With no expectations of what tomorrow may bring.
A temporary dream.
My heart aches and soars at the same time as I hold out my hand. She takes it, her skin zinging against mine, warming my blood in the same way the welcoming dark magic of this room did.
I decide quickly, if I do become king of this palace one day, I’m going to fix up this room and revive it. I’ll be able to feel her here. She’ll be with me every moment I spend here, even when she’s far, far away.
I pull her in close, throwing the true form of a waltz out the window, and press our bodies together. She lets out another gasp, and my head spins with desire.
If this moment is all we have, I’ll live it to the fullest.
We spin together, rocking and twirling to the gentle beat of the phantoms above. They dance with us—Caelynn and I, together in the way we were always meant to be.
Light and dark. Push and pull. Love and hate.
Caelynn licks her lips, and it does something to me, aching deep down in my bones. I swallow, and we slow to a stop.
Her breath is shallow as we stand there beneath the phantoms, who continue their dance. Her heaving chest is pressed against mine. I have one hand at her back and the other at her shoulder, her skin tingling beneath my fingertips.
I reach for a strand of her hair that curls over her shoulder, loosened from its binds, and I rub it beneath my fingers.
She doesn’t move, and neither do I. For minutes, we stand there together.
Her eyes dart up to the ceiling, where the silhouette of two large faces appear. Slowly, they approach each other until they connect in a gentle kiss.
Caelynn smirks. “Matchmakers tonight, are you?”
But they’re not wrong. Caelynn and I are like two magnets. Opposites, who cannot help but drift together. I stop fighting it, this pull, and I lean in. Her eyes widen. She pauses, her breath tickling my jaw.
Then, she jerks forward fiercely pressing her lips to mine.
I fall into her like gravity. I grip her tightly and take her bottom lip between my teeth. She gasps and then moans—a sound I am certain will forever haunt my dreams.
Caelynn grips my suit jack in a tight fist and jerks me forward so that I fall with her onto the small platform at the front of the room. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I press harder into her.
I live in this moment, hand on the back of her head, fist in her hair as we explore each other in so many of the ways we’d fantasied. Her mouth opens for me, and I oblige, pressing deeper. I want her. All of her. Every inch.
Her nails dig into my neck, and I groan. My mind spinning, body burning.
The thought of living without her, without this, is unbearable.
Caelynn
Footsteps sound behind us, and the shadow creatures above hiss. Rev pulls back and turns to face the doorway where the king of the Luminescent Court stands, backed by several Luminescent Guards.
Rev stands between us protectively, his hand still entwined with mine.
“What are you doing here, Father?” he asks, with a bitter bite to the words.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” the king says, spitting onto the smoking ground, his lip curled in disgust. My stomach sinks. But Rev has not yet let my hand go.
The ceiling hisses and grumbles in annoyance. The phantoms are not fans of their new visitors.
“You here, with your Shadow Court whore.”
Rev’s jaw clenches, and he moves to step forward, but I grip his hand tightly, not allowing him to leave me behind. “He’s baiting you,” I warn.
“I always knew you were a disappointment,” the arrogant king continues, his eyes dark. “But I hadn’t imagined you’d disgrace your brother this way. I underestimated your pathetic nature.”
“You know nothing, Father.”
“Don’t you dare call me that!” He marches forward. His guards follow closely behind. “If you think I won’t expose your secret of dirty blood...”
“You’ve had thirty years to expose it. Why would you do it now?”
“Because of her!” he says, veins bulging. “If you think I’ll let you pardon her, or make her a queen, I will tear down everything I’ve built. I will burn the world to the ground before I let that happen.”
I clench my jaw, anger simmering in my belly. But at the same time, I understand him. I hate myself with that same rage sometimes.
“You’re wrong about her,” Rev says, and I close my eyes, soaking those words in. I want this to be right. I want so badly not to have to do what comes next.
Because Rev is wrong about me. He believes in me. He cares for me.
And even though I can’t even comprehend it, he’s forgiven me for an unforgivable act.
The king laughs, throwing his head back, his eyes black as the walls around us. “You think you know her, do you? She’s an opportunist, you fool. Nothing more. She uses her beauty to manipulate. Why else do you think she was in your brother’s room the day she killed him? When he rejected her, she turned on him.”
Rev rolls his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re—"
“No, YOU have no idea,” he screams, and everything hushes, even the phantoms above.
My blood runs cold.
“You don’t know who she is, who she works for.” He prowls forward. “That creature—he doesn’t let go of his pets.”
I pull in a breath. He knows about the Night Bringer.
“He keeps them and continues t
o force them to his will. And he chooses them well. She’s an evil creature’s minion, and you’re in love with her.”
I pull my hand from Rev’s and take a shaky step back. He’s wrong. I’m not working for the Night Bringer anymore. But how did he know?
“Do you know how I found her?” the king asks.
Rev can’t take his eyes off of the man he still calls father, even though he knows better. Is he beginning to believe him? Good.
My stomach sinks, pain washing over me. It’s good if he learns to hate me again. It will make all of this easier.
“After she killed your brother, do you know what she did? She laughed.”
I suck in a breath.
“She LAUGHED,” he yells through the hushed room. “Hysterically. Over his cold body. That’s the woman you chose to warm your bed.”
Rev freezes. I can’t see his face, because I’m a damn coward still standing behind him, but his muscles tense, and his father’s face calms, smoothing into a smug look like he knows he got to him. My breath comes out shaky.
“She liked it,” the Luminescent Court king says slowly, calmly. “She enjoyed killing him.”
“No,” Rev breathes. “It’s not true.”
“Ask her.”
Slowly, Rev turns to face me and tears well in my eyes. Because his father is right in a way. I did laugh when I killed Reahgan. Not exactly for the reasons he’s implying. I didn’t relish the death of another fae. I didn’t enjoy killing.
But Rev doesn’t know what his brother was really like.
But even though Reahgan was a dick of the worst kind, even that wasn’t why I’d laughed. No, it was because I’d won.
I was stuck in an impossible situation between giving myself away to permanent slavery to a sadistic ancient beast or killing my mate—the sweet and good-hearted Rev. I found a loophole in the bargain. I broke free of his clutches and saved us both by killing Reahgan, a power-hungry fae who enjoyed causing pain.
He threatened to torture me, implied terrible, sick things he’d do to me before he killed me slowly. And when I used the magic given to me by the Night Bringer to turn the tides back on Reahgan, the weak Shadow Court fae he taunted, I won both battles. I killed Reahgan, my tormentor. And beat the Night Bringer, my would-be master.
And it felt good.
I could tell Rev all of this. I could explain it... and maybe he’d believe me. Maybe it would be enough.
Maybe, just maybe, we’d go back to how things were just moments ago.
But what then?
He needs to get inside the Schorchedlands or lose his inheritance. Lose his place in his own court. Lose his chance to be High King.
And his father already said he’d do anything to make sure I’m never pardoned. And I believe him. There’s so much still hanging over my head. The chances of being together with all of this between us are so small it’s hardly visible.
I’m not Cinderella. Not a princess. Not the hero. I will never have my happily ever after.
But there are some things I can achieve. I can give Rev what he needs to achieve his true destiny—become the savior of the realm and High King.
All he has to do is hate me again, and he can have it all. He can enter the Schorchedlands and become the hero he’s meant to be.
He and I... we’ve always been doomed. So, maybe I can choose him again. Maybe I can play this role that I’ve become so good at one more time, and I can give him everything that he needs.
Hate me, Rev. I’m sorry, but you have to hate me.
“It’s true,” I say, my voice still wobbly. But I pull in all my determination and push away all the pain. “They found me laughing over his body.”
Rev’s jaw drops, and I hate myself. His darkened eyes fill with tears, even as his jaw clenches. Already, I see the old Rev. The Rev at the beginning of the trials that vowed to kill me. Cruel and wounded.
That’s the Rev that will save us all.
But I hate it. I hate every second of it.
“I loved it,” I say, my voice steadier now, though my heart trembles, my soul crumbles inside. I just have to hide it from him. “Reahgan was an arrogant dick that deserved what he got.”
Rev jerks back like I slapped him.
“I laughed because it felt good. Ending his life. Watching his lips go blue. I’d do it again if given the chance, and I’d enjoy it just as much.”
My eyes flash to Rev’s father, who is one part appalled, one part pleased. He, unlike me, enjoys Rev’s pain. My focus is still on the Luminescent King when Rev charges me.
He screams in agony but finds only smoke as I twist away and disappear into shadow. The phantoms reach down and clasp me, welcoming me into their arms, and I join them in the smoke hovering above the room.
Now, I look down at them all, like this is really a show. It’s a scene playing out and not my life. It’s only pretend, my heart shattering.
Dark and comforting magic keeps me hidden. I wonder if I could stay here forever. Just like I’d hoped I could stay in the Whisperwood for the rest of my life. No one would find me here. They’d think I’d just vanished. Ran away.
Rev falls to his knees where I had just stood, chest heaving. Part of me hopes he’d seen through my act. He’s seen me. The real me.
His father stalks toward him and squats, leaning down to his ear. “You always were a fool, Reveln,” he whispers loudly. “And now, a complete failure. It will be easy to disinherit you now that you’re the failed savior.” He chuckles and retreats from the room, leaving Rev on his hands and knees.
He stays there, hands clenched in his hair, unmoving, for another full minute as I grapple with the intense desire to drop down and comfort him. Beg him to forgive me. Explain to him all of it, tell him I lied—I didn’t relish Reahgan’s death, and I certainly don’t relish his pain now.
Finally, Rev stands and marches from the room.
I hop down from my hiding place with the phantoms. Shadowy arms reach out for me, and I sigh.
“I know,” I whisper. “I’m—” putting on a show. Playing a part. And for the rest of my life, I’ll be a phantom. “Just like you.”
Caelynn
I give myself one more minute to mourn and pull myself together.
Still unsure I made the right choice but... I had to do it, right? The opportunity to push him away met us, and I couldn’t turn it down because it was what he needed. Even if he doesn’t know it. Even if he’ll never know it.
My heart shatters, realizing he’ll never know that what I did was for him.
He will hate me forever, and I did it on purpose.
Nausea roils through my gut, but I clench my jaw, steeling myself against the pain. Using it to my advantage.
This is my punishment for the truth in those words. They weren’t all lies, the way I wish they were.
I did enjoy killing Reahgan. And I would do it again.
I’d do anything to save Rev, no matter how much it hurt both of us.
I pull in a long breath and then march from the room. I rush back down the hall Rev had led me, and I slip through the crowds in the grand hall, shadows hiding me from notice. Up the stairs and back out to the Crumbling Court carriage in line among the other high court vessels.
Killian, Rev’s stag huffs, and shuffles as I approach.
I slip inside the carriage door and ruffle through the storage compartment. Rev has a bag set for a trip into the Schorchedlands, just in case. Well, tonight, if my plan works, he’ll be using it.
I grab the leather backpack and turn to find a very serious dwarfish fae watching me.
“What are you doing?” Tyadin asks, his arms crossed.
I hop from the carriage and shove the bag into his arms. “Good, just the person I need.”
His eyebrows pull down as he examines the bag in his arms. “What’s this?” he asks. “And what the hell is going on? Rev is flipping out.”
“I need you to trust me,” I say with a weak voice. “Can you do that? Can you trust
me?”
“Yes. But that doesn’t answer the question.”
I clench my teeth tightly. “I did what I had to. Just... Okay look, Rev needs to go to the Schorchedlands. Now. Tonight. But he won’t go on my prompting. I need you to take the bag to him and tell him to head there now.”
Tyadin pauses, examining me. He shakes his head, disbelief covering his features.
“Please,” I beg. “I figured it out. I fixed it. He can go now. But he’ll never trust me again. So, I need you to do it. And don’t tell him it was from me. That’s important. He can’t know I had anything to do with it.”
Tyadin presses his eyes closed in a wince. “Okay,” he says. Then, he turns on his heel and treks back into the ballroom with Rev’s leather bag in hand.
Rev
I take a shot of tonic and then another.
“Whoa there.”
I ignore the voice, not remotely caring who is speaking or what they have to say. The only thing I can think is— the only thing I’ll let myself think—how to send my mind to oblivion. I want to be so drunk I don’t remember this night.
Not one dammed moment of it.
A delicate hand pops over the top of my next drink, purple nails glittering up at me.
“You okay, Rev?” Kari asks.
“No,” I growl.
“Okay, then,” she says, grabbing the drink from my hand and tossing it down her own throat.
“That was mine,” I say between gritted teeth.
“The scourge is lying in wait just outside the village I was born in,” Kari says casually. As if it wasn’t major, terrifying news. “It hasn’t moved in two weeks. I’m grateful for that.” She grabs two glasses of sparkling champagne and hands me one. “But I’m terrified of the moment it resumes its journey. We’ve evacuated the villages closest, but we can never predict where it will turn next.” She takes a small sip of her sparkling drink. “I don’t want it to kill my people, Rev.”
A shiver runs down my spine. “I don’t either,” I whisper.
“So, if there’s something wrong—if you need something—I will do whatever it takes to help you defeat this enemy. Okay? I won’t tell anyone you don’t want me to. I will give you any aid you require with no questions asked. Do you understand?”
Curse of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 2) Page 10