Uncaring of where he’d valenned us to, I whipped my arm from his grasp and shoved him with both hands, power intensifying the blow. “Don’t you”—shove—"ever touch"—shove—"me without?—"
This time he grabbed both of my arms, flipped me around, and pinned me back against his chest with my arms crossed, hands at opposite shoulders.
“Stop,” he commanded.
I recoiled from the intrusion, and every rational thought eddied from me as searing, blind panic took over. My body thrashed to get free, my powers nowhere to be found. His grip tightened, and I heard myself screaming, feet kicking the air as he leaned back to avoid my heels catching him in the shins.
“Fucken stop,” he demanded.
“Let go of me,” I screamed, my throat tearing from the raw panic.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, tone slipping into exasperation.
“You already are.” The admission tumbled out of me in a sob, and instantly his hands fell away. Unprepared for the sudden shift, I fell to the hard ground.
My ragged breaths were the only sound as I pressed my hands to the ground, trying, and failing, to stop the tears from flowing. I was sick to my stomach. Exhausted. And utterly done with all of it.
“I’m sorry,” Artton’s quiet words came from above me.
I wiped the tears away with the back of my hands. “Yeah, so was Thaddeus,” I whispered, more to myself than him.
Slowly, I stood to face Artton on wobbly legs. I couldn’t read his expression, but it wasn’t unkind as he watched me like a hawk.
I looked at him square on. “You don’t like me because I fucked Thaddeus and almost got Endymion killed?” I challenged.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and offered me a curt nod.
“Bullshit,” I said, chin raised. “We both know that if any of you thought I was in league with Thaddeus, I’d be locked away somewhere until you figured out what to do with me. As for almost getting Endymion killed, you’re forgetting that the bolt went right through my chest too.” I pressed a pointer finger against whereit’d entered. “An autumn arrow. From autumn mercenaries. On Endymion’s standing orders. Who got throughyourwards. So, fuck off with these weak excuses for not trusting me and tell me what your godsdamned problem is so you can stop being a royal pain in my ass. Because, to tell you the truth, Artton, I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime—even an immortal one.”
He went visibly tense, and his jaw clenched like he was ready to double down. Then his eyes dropped down to the bandolier, then back up, and I could have sworn a pained expression flashed behind his calculating gaze.
“You have no idea what you being fae will cost us.”
I reared back. “What will it costyou?” I shouted, unable to comprehend his words.
Releasing his hands to his side, he nodded.
Oh, he had to be fucken kidding me.
“You don’t want to tell me why you’ve decided to hate me—fine,” I said, throwing my arms up. “Trust me or don’t, Artton. I. Don’t. Care. Either way, you’re stuck with me, because I’ve got nowhere else to go, not to mention I’m now here at the pleasure of your High Lord—or did you forget that I have a residence in the same wing as yours?”
His fists clenched, giving me the fuel to charge on. “Regardless, whether you think I’m in league with the man who brought me within an inch of my life—to cleave what your Ancients forced on me—I didn’t ask for this; for any of this. Artton’s eyes went wide, but I ignored it. “I didn’t ask for this, for any of this. I was a single woman from an impoverished town living my life in the mountains one hunted meal at a time. I didn’t ask to be the spark. For my parents to be slaughtered. To be fae. To…” I swallowed hard, eyes burning. “To be tied to Lumnara’s survival. And honestly…” I swallowed again. “If there was a way to give up the spark and pass this burden to someone else, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” It was a sentiment I hadn’t allowed myself to even think, let alone say aloud, and I wasn’t sure why I’d said it now.
His throat worked and his jaw ticked as he stared down at me inovert assessment for a long moment. “Thaddeus tried to take it?” he asked, voice low.
I nodded.
“That’s possible?”
Something about the timbre of the question had my anger toward him sputtering. It was almost as if he were nervous or even afraid of the possibility. And maybe he was. Maybe if Thaddeus had gotten what he’d wanted, it would have sealed Lumnara’s fate. Lifting a shoulder, I said, “Endymion doesn’t think it is, but I’m not so sure.”
He watched me, his expression impassive. “So why not let him take it?”
His voice was too level, too indifferent. It felt like a test.
I shifted my weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, I’m fairly certain he’d kill me in the process, but more than that, I could never support what he wants.”
Artton tilted his head as curious confusion slid over his features. “And what’s that?”
