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The sudden stillness, the question sailing from my parting lips, made me all too aware of the gentle grip of his enormous hand around my own. “How old were you when they died?”
“Barely more than a week.”
The cold detachment in those words struck me as did a harsh, unexpected slap of empathy. To have never known my parents… For all their many faults, I still couldn’t fathom it and did not even wish to try. “Have you been told much about them?”
“Enough,” he said, tone curt. “Mainly how they died in the first war.” I’d already known that but not the particulars, of which he surprised me by stating, “Your grandfather and his general lured and captured them, trussed them up on flower-choked poles to be made an example of, to threaten into compliance, and then he tortured them before slaying my mother and thus begi
I stopped as we reached the Keep’s edge. A giant dark metal gate loomed at my right, shrouded with whorls of leaves and blocking the entrance to the side of the palace. “They did no such thing.”
“They did, and for nothing more than fear of those greater than them.” His hand released mine, but not before he brought it to his lips. Soft and with his eyes locked on mine, they pressed into my knuckles, then fell away with his touch. “Believe what you will.” He walked on through the opening gate, the stone path no longer and grass beneath our feet. “Your lot always do.”
I followed him behind a rosebush and then a large grouping of shrubs beyond that until we emerged into a slow-rolling clearing that caught my breath and expelled it all at once. Emerald grass danced in the autumn air, wildflowers and bluebells rustling, petals scattering on the current of the wind.
And beneath it, a river, its surface like that of blue glass, winding and curling, cutting through the heart of Vordane—separating its ruler from the rest of the land.
“There are bridges hidden amongst the forest-heavy parts of the river, and they’re always guarded.” Dade’s hair swept back, every inch of his marble-hewn beauty available to the eye when he turned a few steps below where I stood. “The city across the river lends itself to both home, ship, and business owners. There’s a florist, botanist, herbalist, apothecary…” He went on, but I found myself lost in the movement of his lips, the perfect plushness of them, and the white teeth that would reveal themselves as he spoke of this place, this place of nightmares and death, with such ardent affection.
The movement of his mouth ceased, and I feared my cheeks would pinken as those lips curled into a knowing smirk, so I looked at the city across the river, the tiny glimpses of a lie I’d been made to believe my entire life.
If there were nightmares in this land, then they were hidden well, for all I saw was magic, vitality, and, judging from what he’d believed to be true, a ruler stars-bent on justice.
Revenge against those who had taken something irreplaceable from him.
I wasn’t sure where he’d heard fables of torture about his parents, but I did know that it couldn’t be true. I’d make him see that. Before all this was over, the truth would live on.
I cleared my throat, asking, “Can we cross it?”
“Another day,” the king murmured. “Or eve. The dancing lights over the river are something else entirely.”
Those words raked over me in the form of a shiver as I stared at the clustered wood and stone homes and shopfronts, the streets that wound it all tightly together into the shape of an imperfect diamond. I couldn’t make out much beyond the heart of Vordane, nothing save for many wood-shrouded areas, possibly some creeks and village towns.
“Why did you bring me out here?” I asked, no ire in the question, just blatant curiosity.
“You, ah…” The king dragged his attention to his boots, the breeze catching his loose tunic and plastering it to his firm chest. I swallowed, removing my eyes from his muscular torso when he looked up. “Well, you seem to like the gardens.”
“We, the golden ones, born with flowers in our hair,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but smile. “I should be offended by your assumption.”
His brow crinkled in a way I found far too endearing for a male who’d ripped my father’s heart from his chest before tearing into it with his teeth. “It’s not merely an assumption, but watching what you seem drawn to.”
My breath dried and vanished.
Him. I was drawn to him, and remembering just who he was and what he’d done seemed futile given our circumstances—but I could never forget.
As if reading my darkening thoughts, Dade sighed and retrieved something from the shoulder holster I’d assumed was void of weapons. Not so; he’d merely glamoured them so no one could see. “Here,” he said, closing some of the space between us to offer me a sapphire hilted blade. “Should you decide to run into the maze unassisted again. No iron, so don’t bother coming for my heart.”
Those last words were low, frosted. I didn’t tell him that I doubted the elves would meddle with me, nor that I hadn’t thought about sinking a blade beneath his flesh. Carefully, I reached out, the sun glinting off the gathering of sapphires in the hilt before my hand wrapped around the leather.
Seeming as though he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, the king’s eerie stillness was no more. He shifted, boots pressing heavy into the grass, and brushed a hand over his cheek and into his hair.
He’d given me a weapon, believing I wouldn’t thrust the blade into his back when he turned and waded over the grassy mound to the pathway back to the palace through the bushes.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Hence why I gifted you with the dagger,” he said. “You’re welcome.”
A groundskeeper passed us on the path and bowed but did not look our way as I hurried after his king. “Dade.”
He stopped upon the steps, lashes spreading from a jeweled eye that peered at me over his shoulder. “Why did you bother teaching me? When you’d never pla
“You still think I intended to kill you?” He scoffed. “We both know that is impossible.” He headed inside, and confused, I trailed him up the stairs, thinking he was heading back to my rooms, stu
“But you could have done it then,” I said, my skirts clenched in my fist. “You had endless opportunity.”
“I should’ve killed you, yes, and perhaps I once did intend to.” He opened the doors to his rooms, waiting for me to walk in ahead of him before he continued. I shouldn’t have, but I did, and was immediately taken aback by the enormity of the chamber, struck still beside a low-lying chest of drawers with few trinkets on them.
“The first time I saw you sitting on that hollowed-out tree, I knew I had to—after using you to get to that father of yours, of course.” He went on before I could send the wolf skull masquerading as a vase on his drawers sailing at his smug head. “But even having just met you, the mere idea of doing so, of harming you in any way, made me feel odd. A little ill.” His eyes narrowed on me. “Are you a witch playing at being the swan heir?”
I gave him a blank stare. “Not fu
“Fine. Would it curdle your blood to know that I like to play with my food before I eat it?”
My tongue threatened to poke a hole in my cheek, and I set the skull down with a thunk.
A roaring laugh scrunched every one of his lethal features, warming and remolding them into something else—something that curdled my blood for the wrong reasons—something I’d rather not see yet knew I would do so again whenever my eyes closed.