He straightened. The wings dissolved into smoke that soaked back into his skin, leaving only the torn shirt as evidence they’d been there.
His skin faded to pale, the feathers along his jaw receding until he looked like the man I’d danced with again.
“So.” His voice was calm. Controlled. But his eyes held something I couldn’t read.
“You eat heat. Not food. Not wine. Heat. Living heat, stolen from living bodies.”
I couldn’t speak.
My cheeks were flushed. My skin was warm. Genuinely warm, not petal-warm but blood-warm, life-warm. The stolen vitality was singing in my veins, making me feel more alive than I had since I first woke in the dark.
“And you lied to me,” Cador continued. “About everything. The food you didn’t eat. The warmth you didn’t feel. The heartbeat that wasn’t real.”
The guards burst into the courtyard. A dozen of them, armed with swords and crossbows, their faces hard, battle-ready.
They took in the scene. The dead man at our feet, the king standing over the body, the bride with pink cheeks and wide eyes.
“An assassin,” Cador said. “Dealt with. Return to your posts.”
The captain hesitated. His eyes moved from the body to me, noting the torn gown, the disheveled hair, the impossible flush in my cheeks.
Then his gaze dropped to the corpse. Shriveled, desiccated, obviously drained. He paled, his hand twitching toward his sword hilt.
“My Lord,” he stammered. “The body... it looks...”
“Remove the filth,” Cador said, his voice ice. “Do not look at it closely. Burn it.”
The captain nodded once, sharply. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Now.”
They went.
We stood alone in the courtyard.
The ravens had settled on every available surface, walls, well, flagstones. They watched us with their ageless eyes, silent and patient, waiting to see what their king would do.
“The petal,” Cador said. “The thing you took. It makes you seem alive.”
I nodded.
“How many do you have left?”
My hand moved to the pouch at my belt. The bone box inside. The two dried flowers that remained.
“Two.”
His jaw tightened, then he took my arm, his grip firm but not cruel, and pulled me toward the keep.
“Come. You need to use it. The guards will have questions, and you need to look human when you answer them.”
I stumbled after him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Later.” His grip was iron, his voice ice.
“We’ll discuss what you are later. For now, you’ll play the shaken bride, and I’ll play the protective husband, and we’ll both pretend this night was nothing but a failed assassination.”
He paused at the door. Looked back at me over his shoulder, his face pale again, almost human again, but I’d seen what was underneath now.
