If he wants war, he’ll kill me for my crime.
I don’t see it as a crime.
It’s justice.
A life for a life. If I have to sacrifice my life in order to avenge my brother, so be it.
What future do I have, anyway? Married to a prick with a huge cock—sexual pleasure doesn’t make a marriage last. It helps, but love is the only way a marriage can truly survive.Love has the power to endure both good and bad times.
Love is both an ember and a fire. Some years, it roars, and others, it flickers but remains lit.
Galen and I don’t have that. There’s no fire, just sparks that never fully catch aflame.
Eventually, I’ll be forced to bear his children. But what if those children are fae and not vampires? Never has a mixed-species child survived past birth before. It’s one magic or the other, never both.
If our child is gifted with fae magic, Galen would not let them stay here. He will demand vampire children as his heirs.My child, if born fae, will be forced to return to fae lands. Since my brother is dead, my child, if male, will inherit my father’s crown.
What if they are female? That was never mentioned. Will she be killed or traded like a playing card?
And if the child is a male fae, I cannot raise them. Galen would not let me leave to return home to watch them grow.
Death and loneliness. That’s what defines my future.
So why not die with a purpose instead of a broken heart?
Galen will suspect me first. So I hid my tracks, returned to my room, changed in front of my maid, and slipped into bed. Deception began when she departed; I then secretly left my room, traversed the gardens, and reached my hiding place.
My arm is steady, but the weight of the weapon feels unfamiliar in my hands since it’s not my usual hunting bow. The ash wood is rougher to the touch and in need of a good polish. It’s smaller, better suited for close range.
“This is it,” I breathe as I draw my elbow back; the weight of the string helps to steady my fingers. My biceps clench as I demand the string to pull tighter, but the hallway is so narrow that my elbow digs into the stone.
My eyes trace down the arrow I made. I sat by the fire and carved the wood, standing hunched under the light of the moonas I shaped the stone into a point, and polished it under the sun until it was so sharp that it rivaled my husband’s fangs.
“There you are, the famous heart thief.” That’s what the songs call Titus. Ballads can turn monsters into heroes and heroes into villains.
Good, you’re tall, taller than Galen, and easy to spot. That hair, rivaling my shade of black, shines under the chandeliers. His shoulders are wide, arms muscled in a way that proves he is more familiar with swinging a sword than lifting a fork.
His stance is steady and sure-footed. His jaw is square and hard, firmly clenched, unlike Galen’s, which is used to seducing a crowd with a warm smirk.
Titus is every ounce a killing machine.
I move on from his face, because it makes him more human. Those hands belong to a beast. His fingers, which gripped my brother’s heart as it still beat, are holding his newly gifted sword with confidence.
Did he cheer and laugh as Everett felt?
A dip of my arm has my arrow lining up directly to his heart.
“You don’t want to meet him first?” My sister’s voice startles me. I keep my bow aimed at Titus, but my neck turns to see Sable grinning at me, one perfectly plucked brow arched. “He’s really handsome.” Her lips curl up into sharp points, resembling the thorns that protrude from the rose stems.
Sable, my twin sister, looks exactly like me, but she wears a more voluminous dress with intricate black roses that draw attention to her pushed-up breasts.
Sable never lets an opportunity to dress up slip through her poisonous fingers. She likes fine things—jewels, dresses, crowns, cocks that are attached to men with titles, preferably crowns, but I got the king.Unfortunately.
“You disrespect our brother.” I peer through the wall’s narrow opening. “He killed him.” I aim my elbow high. Thestring stings my finger from the tension as I pull it back with all my might.
Sable moves slowly, like a koi fish gently swimming closer.
I don’t want her here ruining this memory as she usually does.
