Reid takes a step back. “Shit.”
“Take his weapons.” Aerona pulls a bone knife from the guard’s belt and hands it to Reid, who quickly searches the man for any others, shoving all he finds into his own belt. I move closer to help, but he brushes me aside.
“We can’t leave him here,” Aerona says. “Grab him and follow me.”
“Move,” Reid says. I press against the wall as he hooks his arms around the man’s shoulders, then drags him down the hall behind Aerona.
They don’t need me at all.Maybe they never did.
But if the guards are mobilizing, that can only mean one thing: Taran’s here. And if everyone’s doubts about the plan are valid, if he can’t push past his fears of willbending… he could actually be in danger. Whatever it is we’re doing won’t matter if he dies.
And that pull, the one that told me that by helping Taran, I’d find what I’m missing—it’s stronger than ever.
Aerona and Reid don’t even notice when I follow the guards back down the stairs.
Chapter 40
Caeo
Ilie in bed, staring at the ceiling. At least there’s light now.
I have no idea how long I spent in the suffocating darkness; there’s nothing but my empty stomach and sticky, withering tongue to track the passage of time. My blind fumbling discovered someone had left me a small cup of water, and I thankfully found it without spilling much. It was a struggle to pace myself—I could’ve devoured it all in seconds. As it is, I’ve long since sipped the last drops.
A grim acceptance has settled within me, like a boulder crushing my spleen. I don’t see a way out, short of offing myself. But I don’t want to die. I want to live. To see Ellie’s face again, hear her laugh, and hold her in my arms.
I can make it through one heart-stomping, soul-crushing, horror of a day if it means there’s still hope to reunite with her, can’t I? I just have to leave my body somehow.
My wedding must be drawing near. Mother returned recently with servants to dress me, bringing lanterns so they could see. She willbent me the instant the door unsealed, to be silent and not resist. I complied fully, not even lifting my limbs while the servants struggled to change my clothes. She eventually revised her command, compelling me to dress myself, furs and all.
Once I finished, I collapsed back onto the bed, and she ordered me not to move until someone came to retrieve me. Probably so I don’t burn the place down, since they left the lanterns. Or she couldn’t be bothered to seal the door again; I can’t tell if she did since I can’t move my head. But going by how long it took me to move the last time she told me not to, it won’t be long now.
You can do this. Just pretend you’re somewhere else. Anywhere else.
As if that was that easy.
My stomach churns. Not from hunger, but dread. If it weren’t empty, I’d probably throw up all over myself. Except I can’t move, so I’d just drown in my own vomit.
Visions plague me, battering every corner of my mind. What my mother will force me to do to Owena. Taking control of my body. Yanking it around like a puppet on strings. No choice, no way to defend myself. Flesh against flesh, no way to stop. Twisting what’s supposed to be an act of love into a violation.
Just like she did to my father, but now it’s me. Her own son. And all I can do is wait for it to happen.
My eyes burn, too dried out for tears.
Every beat of my heart slams against my ribs as my mind flails, desperate to escape. I can’t keep the thoughts away. They strike relentlessly, a barrage that never ceases, shattering against my skin—rigid, immovable. I want to scream, but I can’t get enough air. A sharp pain carves through me like a knife.
An angry voice rumbles at the edge of my senses, but it slips by, a raindrop next to the hurricane raging within. There’s a thud, and then a shift in the light.
Reid’s face in front of mine.
At least it looks like Reid, if Reid were fae.
Am I hallucinating now?
“Caeo?” His voice is rushed—panicked—but definitely his. He shakes my shoulder.
“We need to hurry,” a woman’s voice says from the door.
“Reid?” I squint, focusing on him through the dots in my vision. “You’re fae, too?”What are the odds?
