The joy of Quinn’s recovery gives me a reprieve from the lingering pain coursing through me. That elation makes me the only fool brave enough to walk toward him, arms out.
Unsteady on his feet, Quinn jabs a finger at me. “You.” He’s still finding his voice and trying to recover some of the breathing denied him from his ruined throat. “I saw you. In the darkness.”
“Yes.” My nod is jerky, my body trembling as I step closer.
“How was that possible?”
I stop and run my hand over my hair. “I couldn’t let you die.”
He narrows those black eyes on me and puts a hand to his perfect throat. “I’m damned, Rapunzel. You should have let me die.”
“Then should I die as well?” I walk up to him and press my hand to his chest. His heartbeat is strong beneath my palm. “Because we’re both cursed, Quinn.”
He laces our fingers together, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, Rapunzel. Not you.”
Then he pulls me in until our chests slam together and he kisses me. Kisses my forehead, his lips achingly tender. They draw fresh tears to my eyes. He wraps his arms around me, and…holds me. As if he’s still using me to anchor himself to life. Because he glimpsed what awaits him, and his panic became mine. His fear a noose around both our necks. He doesn’t deserve that, not for giving up something as precious as his soul to save something even more cherished—his sister.
It’s not fair.
Like a gate that’s thrown open, emotions come rushing in on me. It’s all too much. Too much of Quinn’s agony while I laid hands on him. Too much of my own when I cut my hair to heal him. Too much horror when I delved into hell to bring him home to us. And it’s too many eyes on me when I need privacy to purge this torment from my soul.
I break away from Quinn and run toward the keep. Wren and Dax call my name. Emma does as well, but I keep running. Through the hall. Up the stairs, nearly tripping over the hem of my tunic. I don’t stop until I reach my room, and when I slam the door behind me—when I shut out the outside world—it’s then that I bury my face in my hands and quietly break apart.
I crawl on hands and knees to a darkened corner. There, hidden in shadows, I curl into a tight ball and twirl a finger around the newly shorn brown tuft of hair, wondering how much of my life I gave to save Quinn’s.
23
WREN
Ifollow Rapunzel to our chamber. The muted sunlight filtering in through the arrow slit window casts her in shadows. I find her, in the corner, her legs drawn to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. When she sees me standing in the threshold, she slaps away tears as they rain down her flushed face. She shudders in a breath and squares her shoulders, and I swear on God, I’ve never seen such a stunning display of feminine fortitude.
“How fares Quinn?”
“Already complaining. Emma wants him to rest. He, of course, refused.” I close the door before crossing the room. Everything in here now carries her touch. The bed smells of her. There’s a trunk at the foot of it filled with her clothes. The open book on the chair near the window belongs to her. Every part of Dyhurst is…brighter…because she’s here. I drop beside her. “But he’ll live.”
She did that.
Gave him back his life.
“We almost lost him.” Her husky whisper barely breaks the quiet. We’re smeared with Quinn’s blood. Exhausted. Her eyes are green pools that reflect my fear over nearly losing my friend. “He was so close, Wren. He was slipping through my fingers.”
I want to touch her. To take her hand. Wrap my arms around her. But I don’t. Because I’m…afraid. After the terrible names I called her and the accusations I flung at her… I’m scared she’ll reject me. “He’s alive because of you.”
Her smirk could rival my own. “Wasn’t Quinn injured because of me?”
And there it is.
Fuck.
“No, Rapunzel, he wasn’t.”
“Liar.” She’s shaking so violently I fear her bones will splinter. She digs her fingers in her wild waves and pulls hard enough that even I cringe. “All this destruction. All the death. Because of this cursed hair.”
I shift in front of her and pry her hands away and dare to hold them. “I was wrong, Rapunzel. You sacrificed your life for Rygard. This…what John is doing…this ishismadness.Hisobsession with power. My parents. None of it is your fault.”
Shame sits bitter on my tongue at how I hurt her. Of course, she’s not to blame. But I needed someone to lash out at, and she was there while John was not. She’s someone tangible who could hurt along with me. Someone I could push away. Someone I trusted to be there when I worked through my pain.
Oh, God, did I push too hard? Did I push too far? Did I lose her?
