Rubbing my arms, I glance around, and notice Fenrir staring out the windows of his balcony. His pale hair is loose, his pointed ears catching the rays. Dressed in the same clothes as when he put me in the dungeon, he doesn’t move. Just stares.
What happened to him?
“Brother,” Mal calls, but the Fae doesn’t move. “Are you well?”
Silence. It’s unnerving.
Slowly, we move closer, taking care not to make a noise.
“Fenrir,” Mal says, putting his hand on his shoulder. “What are you looking at?”
Fenrir shrugs, sighing. “I loved her, you know.”
I know immediately who he’s talking about.Sose. The woman who has caused so much strife between him and Kaden. A woman who could not love Kaden’s darkness and suffered for it.
She saw the pieces of him I saw in the ritual. Pieces that I should’ve understood better, but I can’t change it. I already love him, and will continue to do so. I will fight for him, because no one else will.
Mal nods, smiling slightly. “I know. She would’ve made a beautiful bride.”
“Mother didn’t want her with Kaden.” I exchange a look with Mal, both of us somber. “She knew if Sose could love him, she’d break the curse.”
He sounds so lost and confused. If not for his actions, I’d feel sympathetic to his plight.
But he put a blade to my throat and threw me into a cell. I don’t exactlylikehim.
“Sose wasn’t from the prophecy, though,” Mal reasons. He gently breaks into Fenrir’s view, looking into his brother’s eyes. “Mother was worried over nothing.”
“She was jealous.” He sighs. “She sent me to break them up. But I fell in love.”
His pain radiates off of him and I have to stop the urge to comfort him.
“Then, Zelos killed her.”
“I can never forgive her.” His voice cracks. “She took my Heartbond from me all because of her jealousy. Her pain. But I have no choice.”
I step to Mal’s side cautiously. “What did she do, Fenrir? Maybe we can help.” My compassion is going to be the death of me.
His green eyes water and he swallows thickly. That flash—the same one I see in Aoife, in Kaden, covers his eyes and he hangs his head.
“Kill me.”
When he looks up again, the tears are gone, and his face is blank. Sorrow doesn’t mar him, nor does it look as if he knows what’s happening. He just… is.
Quickly, his hand flies out, catching me in the chest. Mal intercepts, grabbing Fenrir’s arm and throws him back. Stumbling againstthe balcony’s railing, I grip tight to the gold and watch the brothers fight.
Fenrir moves effectively, but he isn’t a warrior. Mal is larger, broad of shoulder, with a steady calm that tracks every move Fenrir makes. Fenrir lashes out, stepping from side to side. He acts as if he doesn’t know what to attack first.
Finally, he pulls the sword in his belt, swinging it high. Mal easily steps to the side, the blade missing him with room to spare.
Does he want to fight? Or is he trying to miss?
“Fenrir,” he says, words rumbling between us. “Tell me what’s happening.”
He smirks. It’s cruel and vicious, and he swings again. Mal dodges, never looking away.
“Fight back!” the prince yells. He lunges, but Mal clips him in the chin, Fenrir falling on to his back. A softoomphleaves his lips, but he doesn’t get back up.
Mal stands over him, assessing. Fenrir glares up, hatred so black it nearly consumes us all. I’ve never seen that from the heir before—and certainly not at his younger brother.
