Page 121 of The Fallen Fae King

“It even sounds like you. But you have said that to me three times today already.”

“Rude.” I set down the lamp by my feet. “I’m that predictable, huh?”

“Reliable, my dear, because you’re the only sunshine in my dark life.” To my relief, Lanlin finally turns to face me.

I try not to let the horror show when I see his face.

Lanlin is clutching a misshapen lump of metal to his chest like it’s the most important thing in his life.

Lanlin has been stripped of his jewels and makeup, although he still has his beetle pendant clasped around his neck, which I am relieved to see. I know how much it would hurt him to have that taken from him.

He is still as beautiful, however, without any of the symbols of his kingship. It’s his swollen eye, burned cheek, and bruised jaw that is making it hard for me not to react.

He’s been fucking beaten within an inch of his life.

I have seen Lanlin destroy entire armies. He’s the most powerful warrior in the realms apart from Aurelius.

My gaze blazes as it drops to the hateful silver shackles bound around Lanlin’s reddened wrists.

Someone like Lanlin should never be locked up and diminished in this way.

It feels wrong down to my bones.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He cocks his head. “You never said that before. Don’t vanish yet. A figment of my dying mind or not, you light my life.”

Dying?

Alarmed, I demand, “Don’t you dare fucking die. I am here now. Daire and I will get you out of here.”

“Comforting thought. How strange that I should cling to lies at the end.”

My throat feels like it is closing up. “What would you say to me if I was real?”

Lanlin licks over his fangs like they’re hurting him. “I would tell her that I miss my moths. But I understand now that I am the moth. He will fly to the false moon of the candlelight, burning to ash. He will sacrifice his life willingly for that brief moment with his love.”

“That’s sad.”

“Is it?” Lanlin releases the metal that he’s holding, struggling to sit up. “The moth doesn’t deserve the moon. But at least he gets to touch the fire before he dies. He experiences the sensation. And in that moment,” Lanlin’s eyes are haunting; I can hardly bear to look into them, “it hurts. You die happy, however, because it’s like touching the sun, rather than the moon. And I have always craved to experience the sun’s warmth.”

“You have.” I march to the bars, clutching onto them. “I’m here, my darkness. I’m fucking real.”

Lanlin sniffs deeply. His red-wine eyes flash.

Then he bares his fangs, and his bat wings burst out of his back. Ragged shadows hang around his wings like cobwebs.

With supernatural speed, he bursts to his feet and sweeps to the front of the cell.

I gasp, as suddenly his face is just the other side of the bars.

“Blood.” Lanlin’s eyes are wild. He focuses on the terracotta cup, which swims with Daire’s ruby blood. His reflection looks back at him on the glossy surface. Then he glances back at me with desperate hope. “You’re real.”

“Last time I checked.”

Lanlin licks over his fangs compulsively like he can’t stop. His gaze is focused on the blood, as his hands reach dangerously close to the silver bars.

“Careful,” I warn.