Also, it sits on a cliff that overlooks the Lennox Sea.
The violent waves rip across the surface, crashing against the crag as I stand on the parapet peering through the cracked crenellations. I stare into the horizon and watch the dawn, wondering how the hell we got to this place. How one man’s madness has destroyed countless lives. On mornings such as these, while the castle is still quiet, it’s like glimpsing the awakening of heaven. This fleeting moment—this perfect stillness—the burden of my curse lifts, and I am free…
But once the sun crests, it sheds light on the countryside and shatters the illusion. The familiar weight drags me back into the darkness. It blots out the sunlight. Suffocates me. Fury turns my blood to poison as it slides through my veins.
It leaves me helpless to fight against the cold and the fear that tightens around my throat. Choking me. Inching me closer to the day when death will take me, and the demon who owns me will claim what’s rightfully his.
Until then, these quietest moments are the loudest—because I did everything within my power to save my sister.
And I still failed her.
I couldn’t save her when my father and her betrothed bargained her away to a monster.
It’s in the silence when I hear the echo of her screams the loudest.
Some days, when the shame and regret consume me, I wish Wren would have let me die. It would have been a more merciful fate. But then I remember what awaits me, and each breath I take is worth the effort to stay alive.
“Quinn?”
I whip around at the sound of my name on Rapunzel’s tongue. Her hair is wild around her lithe body, falling to her knees in golden waves. She’s a single drop of purity in my sea of sin, wearing only a white chemise. The material billows around her in the summer breeze. Her flesh still carries the faint scent of the rose soap she used in her bath last night after we arrived at Dyhurst. And with her watching me under the dawn’s glow, she’s a vision pulled from my darkest fantasy.
“What do you want, Rapunzel?” Fuck me, but I didn’t mean for that to come out so harshly.
“It’s lovely up here.” She walks toward the edge of the crenelated parapet, her captivating green eyes filled with wonder as she gazes at the horizon. She places her hands on a chipped merlon, a dazzling smile lifting her lips. “And peaceful.”
“It was.” There it is again, my automatic scathing response, but in my defense, she asked for it by coming here and disturbing my moment of tranquility.
Her expression drops when she absorbs the meaning of my words. She wraps her arms around her torso and walks backward as if to ward off my hostility. “I apologize for bothering you.”
But does she have to look like I spit in her face?
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re not,” I grind out between clenched teeth. “Just…” I reopen my eyes and lower my hand, releasing a loud sigh. “Don’t you have something better to do than walk the battlements?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She tentatively takes in the splendor of the surrounding landscape. “I wasn’t exactly given a tour when we arrived. I’m a prisoner, remember? Maybe if someone explained my purpose in Wren’s plan, I would have a task to occupy me. I tried to question him after he dumped me in a bedchamber last night. Would you like to hear what he told me? He said I ask too many questions and slammed the door in my face.”
That certainly sounds like Wren.
From what he told us about Rapunzel, I expected a docile, selfish pawn in his revenge against John. Rapunzel might be soft-spoken, cautious even, but she’s far from timid. It’s fair to say that after what she allowed Dax and I to do with her at the inn, she’s caged fire, and if Wren doesn’t play this right, we’ll be the ones who get burned.
Especially seeing her now, scowling at me for all she’s worth. Not in the least intimidated when other women are smart enough to run from me.
Or maybe it’s because she spent her life trapped in a tower, and she’s too ignorant to know when danger is staring her in the face.
“You think Wren owes you an explanation?”
She drops her arms and fists her hands at her side. “I do, yes.”
The audacity.
“He doesn’t owe you a damn thing.”
We stay locked in a silent battle, eyeballing each other for a damn long while as the sun climbs higher. Then she turns away to watch the waves batter the cliff. The woman is a glimpse of paradise in this bleakest corner of Rygard. And fuck me if I don’t want to reach out and—
“Quinn, may I ask you a question?”
And this is why I curse my moment of weakness at the inn. Give a little, and next thing you know, you’re giving too much. “Will you ask me regardless of my answer?”
“Yes, I suppose I will.” With my shirt open and the demon’s marks on full display, she studies the black vine-like tattoos that wind their way around and up my torso. They snake around my hands, arms, and neck, stopping under my chin. “Are you a man?”
