When Everard showed up yesterday, he had shattered that weird, agonizing loop. He took me out of that nightmare, brought me home, and promised to guard me while I slept. And then he did.
The books had led me astray.
The Book-Everard was a merciless killer. He didn’t believe in degrees of guilt and punishment, and he seemed incapable of empathy. He was portrayed as a force rather than a human being, a personification of his domain. Whenever he appeared in the narrative, someone was about to die.
The real Everard was infinitely more complex. He was deadly and ruthless, true, but also subtle and smart. Smart was the problem here. I couldn’t help but admire the deviousness. The problem was, I had no idea where the manipulation ended and actual feelings began, if he even had any.
He had pretended to be Reynald, and he’d been very convincing. His speech had been less refined, he’d grinned, he’d laughed, he’d seemed . . . normal. I had cared for him. I’d liked him. I hadn’t ever realized how much until I saw the Fatefire and it had all come crashing down.
The way he looked at me when he carried me up those stairs . . . I shivered and instantly regretted it because all of me was very sore. If I ever met Omelyana of Gor, I would buy her a whole short barrel of the orange cherry wine she loved so much. She had all my sympathy. He was too much.
I needed to get my head on straight, because if things kept going his way, in a couple of months I would be standing by his throne in Selva, gazing at him in adoration with all my Kair Toren plans forgotten. And I would keep standing there for years, until all my knowledge was exhausted, while he planned his wedding to the most politically advantageous candidate.
Yesterday was done. Today was a whole new day.
It sank in finally. We had won. I had taken out the Butcher. He was gone. The Sun Margrave would survive. Matheo was safe.
I took a deep breath. It hurt. My ribs didn’t like me breathing.
Now that the immediate threat was gone, Everard would want to know what came next. I had to be smart, sharp, and careful. But first, I had to get out of this bed. Up we go. How hard could it be?
I tried to sit up. No. Not happening. Bending hurt too much.
I groaned at my stiff muscles and rolled off the bed.
I opened the door and found Kaiden leaning against the wall across the hallway. His eyes looked haunted, his expression pinched and tight.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. “I heard a thud and then there was groaning.”
After I rolled off the bed, I’d tried to do a push-up and got the biggestnopeof my life.
“I’m fine now. Where is everybody?”
“Downstairs. Having breakfast.”
I didn’t like those ghosts in his eyes. We needed to get back to normal and fast.
“Having breakfast without me? I want breakfast, too.”
He offered me his arm.
“Are you escorting me downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Lord Kaiden.”
We headed down the staircase. Moving was a challenge, and my knees still didn’t like the stairs, but it was a lot better than last night.
“You’re shuffling like an old woman,” he said.
What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of ibuprofen right now. I wrinkled my face at him.
“We need to work on your manners.”
“Did you die again?”
“Yes. But I killed the man who killed me.”
