Page 80 of The Fae Lord

I was a pawn in a bigger game even before I took my first breath, and I think of how many lives have been ruined because of it, because one fae who had a vision decided that she could stop the inevitable.

Eldrion pauses. He’s about to turn the page when I call down to him, “I have a question.”

I hear his bare feet on the floorboards, and then I see him fly from the window up to join me.

He takes in my naked form, looks at my wrists, which are sore from the amount of time they’ve been bound to the steeple, even though my wings have been keeping me afloat and taking some of the pressure off them.

“I have a question, and I want to talk to you, but I will not do it like this.”

He nods at me, then wraps his arms around me and carries me to the roof.

After setting me down, he leaves me alone, returns to his room, and comes back carrying his robe.

He wraps it around me with a surprising amount of care. In fact, everything about his movements is suddenly slow and soft, and it’s almost as alarming as when he is hard and callous.

I catch myself breathing in the scent of him as I pull the robe closer, then berate myself.

I am standing here, on the spot where he held Kayan and forced us all to watch. And I am thinking about how good his robe smells against my skin.

Looking down, I wonder if he is thinking of Kayan the way I am. I wonder if he is remembering the moment when he killed my best friend.

But that is not what I want to ask him about. “The visions.” I turn to him and meet his eyes.

Looking into them is difficult because when I do, I see a mixture of lust and hatred that drives me wild.

My body responds to him even when my mind doesn’t want to. I pull the robe tighter around my body and pace away, putting some distance between us.

“Yes,” he says, tucking his silver hair behind his ear. At least he’s wearing pants, so I’m not distracted by the piercings that drive me wild when they’re inside me.

I force myself to look at him as I ask the question because I want to see the expression on his face when I ask it.

“They are premonitions, yes? So, how do we know we can stop them? You tell me your mother created me because she believed I could stop what’s coming. What if I’m part of it? What if this whole thing has just led us to the point where it’s going to happen anyway?”

I expect him to answer me quickly with a rebuttal, but instead, he frowns.

I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he thinks.

He bites his lip, rubs his chin, the back of his neck, and his large black wings twitch.

“Honestly,” he says, “I do not know.”

I study his face and then part my lips. “You don’t know? All of this –” I stretch my arms out wide and then point to the spot where he dropped Kayan to the floor like a disused toy – “all of this death and destruction, the people you’ve hurt, the things you have done, and you don’t know?”

As he looks at me, something in his expression changes, as if he’s sad that I am disappointed in him.

Anger, he can cope with; that makes him hard enough to fuck me into oblivion. But disappointment or disdain, clearly that’s different.

“All I know is what I’ve told you.” He lifts the journal and taps its cover. “The information in these pages is new to me. Perhaps if I’d had it sooner, I would’ve had time to interrogate it further, to think about the questions you’re asking me, but I didn’t.” He’s speaking quickly now, his tone darker. “I had no one to guide me growing up, Alana. My brother was supposed to be the ruler of Luminael, but he died. And by the time my mother died too, I still didn’t have my powers. They emerged after all my family was gone. For years, I ruled with the threat of my powers when I had none. I lived in terror of being found out and losing control. And then, when they did arrive, I wished they hadn’t. My mother never taught me how to interpret the visions because she never thought I would have to. My brother was supposed to be doing this, not me.”

He turns away from me, and I wish he hadn’t, because the way he looked in that moment, talking about his family, is different from anything I have seen on his face in the time we’ve known each other so far.

“My brother died too,” I tell him. I don’t know why I am telling him, but it makes him stop, breathing heavily, his wings moving at the same time as his shoulders, up and down. “Earlier than he should have,” I say. “He died trying to protect me.”

“Mine did the same for me,” he replies when he turns around.

An unmistakable urge to be closer to him washes over me, and as soon as it does, it is chased by a tinge of guilt and then the familiar throb of anger.

“If it’s true, and I am the one who will stop these demons from coming, stop the visions from happening. How am I supposed to do that?”

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