“Actually, it’s only a cave in Mystic Forest,” a stunning Fae says. He perches on the edge of my disgusting bed, a teasing smile curling his perfect lips.
Scarlet eyes. Aidon.
I survey my surroundings, the broken furniture, the cheap beds, the cold fireplace. My satchel, Jestin’s coffins of sand, our bags.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, my voice wavering.
He looks away. Unease coils tight around my chest.
“Sit, please.” He lifts me, sets me opposite him, and takes my hands. His touch is steady, grounding, but fragile, like it might snap under the weight of what is to come.
“I need to tell you something, Seleste.” He has never said my name like that before.
“I guess I haven’t,” he mutters, his voice brittle. His smile is small and sad.
“What happened?” My body stiffens. “Have you seen the horror? You know what happened. You know I am a monster.”
His scarlet eyes hold mine. “Minx, I don’t blame you.”
My stomach twists.
My ignorance killed them. Hundreds, dead. My entire life.
A ringing hum fills my ears, drowning everything else out.
My knees feel weak, but my power, inexplicably, stays still. Why?
“I don’t blame you,” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and tears sting my eyes again.
“Where is everyone?” I force myself to change the subject.
He squeezes my hands. “Something bad happened.”
My heart stops. My chest tightens. A thousand terrible possibilities crash through my mind, but he only squeezes my hands again. Grounding. Holding.
“Please tell me,” I beg, my voice trembling.
“When Nulok hit the ground…” He pauses, testing if I remember. I do. My throat tightens. “He didn’t wake up.”
“What?” I blink. “Say it again.” His chest didn’t raise.
His expression falters. Fear lingers in his eyes, afraid I will break, but I am already crumbling. “He didn’t wake up.”
I search for hope, a crack, a single thread, but there is none. Nulok.
“Samira,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“She doesn’t know yet. The others are preparing him for the journey. Bane will carry Nulok to her.” My hands grip his. Only his presence keeps me from shattering completely.
She will never forgive me.
“Jestin!” I cry out. My throat aches. I want to stand and run to him, but Aidon anchors me in his arms.
“He’s not in good shape,” he says, gentle but unyielding.
It is…
“It is not your fault, Jestin’s fault, or anyone’s. Only the marrowsucker’s.”
