Clutching the bloody dagger, I scramble back. My breath shudders. The metallic smell of blood fills the air, and my nightgown—what’s left of it—is streaked with red.
Henry’s dead. I killed him.
My nightgown is torn and soaked with blood. My hands are slick with it.
But I don’t regret it. Not for a second.
Henry tried to force himself on me, and I stopped him—permanently. Just like Aerix told me to do. I made it hurt. I made him bleed. I made himpayfor it. I gave him what he deserved.
But his final words echo in my mind, tugging at loose threads I didn’t know were there. Because Katerina lied about her brother. Isla was raised in the Night Court.
How the hell does it all piece together? What does Aurora have to do with it? How did Henry know about all of this in the first place?
I have no idea. The only thing I know is that I need to clean up this mess. I need to think.
And most of all, I need Aerix.
