I exhale slowly, forcing down a fresh surge of rage. Soldiers from Braemar killed my people as well, though I did not personally know the faefolk from the settlement they decimated.
“There are many innocent people in Hollins,” she whispers.
“And we just saw the bodies of thirty-eight innocent faefolk in the forest, my sister-in-law among them.”
She pales, and for a long moment, she says nothing. I sense the turmoil in her heart, and I despair over the fact that I’m partly to blame.
She lowers her gaze, unable to meet my eyes.
“What happened to your people was unforgivable,” she says. “But is the spilling of more innocent blood truly the answer?”
Doubt cuts through me.
Even though she can sense my thoughts, I pull away from her and quickly turn around, as though I might somehow hide my true feelings from her.
Though we have not yet consummated our union, the bond only keeps growing stronger. I do not believe I can hide anything from her, just as she cannot hide anything from me.
She knows that despite my building rage, my unquenchable need for vengeance, I have occasionally experienced moments of pity for the humans and orcs I wage war against.
I know that I have struck down innocents in the heat of battle simply because they happened to be running through the streets. And sometimes, I wonder whether the gods will punish me for it.
But whenever such a thought enters my mind, I try to tell myself it is my Seelie side surfacing, the side my father tried so very hard to crush.
He loved my mother, but he did not want either of his sons to possess any propensity for mercy.
His words come back to me like a burst of winter wind and icy fury.
Violence is strength. Do not shame me with your Seelie side, son. Do not merely kill your enemies. Make them suffer and kill all those they care about as well. Cruelty is a powerful weapon, one you must always keep in your arsenal.
When Isabel gasps, I know she has seen the memory.
It was his counsel to me as I prepared to join the Winter Court army. Counsel I had tried my best to follow. After a few hundred years of service in the Winter Court army, I became King Theron’s most trusted commander, so perhaps my father was right.
“I will do what I must to avenge my people,” I eventually say. “And I will follow the Winter King’s orders when the battle is upon us.”
“You aren’t your father,” she says.
A growl leaves me, and I spin to face her.
“I know who I am,” I reply with a growl, but the doubt from earlier keeps cutting through me, as sharp and cold as a frost-kissed blade.
You are hurting right now, she sends down the tether we share.I know you are. It is okay to feel doubt. It is okay to be tempted by another path for yourself. Please don’t push me away, Gideon. I see you. Yes, I know you have killed humans and orcs. I know you have even taken pleasure in it at times. But not always. There have been moments when you hesitated. Moments when you doubted. And I do not believe you are the vicious fae lord I once thought you were. Not truly. I have felt your compassion, even when you try to hide it from yourself.
Silence stretches between us. Though she means for her words to be comforting, they don’t alleviate the turmoil that’s spreading through me like a cold, black plague.
I think of Lachlan and the agony he must be enduring. Surely he must know something has happened to Maelissa by now. When my father died in battle, my mother felt the absence of his soul in this realm immediately, and she fell to the ground and screamed. I was there that day. I held her as she cried.
“I will take you to Hollins tomorrow,” I eventually say, “but you must remain at my side, and you will only be permitted to speak with your father. No one else. Do you understand?”
A wave of hurt surges through the bond. She blinks fast, then lifts her chin and glares at me. “Fine.”
I suppress the urge to growl again, as well as the urge to grab her and shake her. But I don’t want to scare her or take my frustrations and grief out on her. After taking a few deep breaths, I close the space between us and tuck her gently into my arms.
“Little moth,” I murmur softly.
“Gideon,” she says, her voice strained.
I don’t want to argue with you, my darling mate. Please forgive me for my harsh tone, I tell her. Then I send her a surge of warmth, a flash of affection that comes straight from my heart.
