Page 88 of Of Wind and Terror

“I don’t know if I believe it. Any of it. Especially since I’ve been having these strange dreams…” I allow my hands—and words—to linger in the air.

I don’t know how to even begin articulating the strange dreams I’ve been having featuring Draven and the fae in the dungeons. Are they real? Fake? A product of my overactive imagination?

“What do you mean by dreams?” Blaze’s voice is dark. Bitter. Tinged with something akin to jealousy but more potent.

“I don’t even know if they’re real or not,” I confess. “I don’t know if any of this is real.”

“It is,” Treyton inserts quickly. “Kassie, you may not want to believe it, but you know in your heart that it’s the truth.”

What I know is that my head is throbbing, my stomach is in knots, and I’m terrified of what the future holds. Everything else is up in the air.

Could these males be my mates? Truly?

“We’re going to travel to Amorite to remove this mark,” I decide at last. “But I’m not promising anything else.”

Not when it’s my heart on the line.

All three men nod, albeit reluctantly. I can tell that my answer wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” I demand.

Silence stretches between the three of them, and they all exchange uneasy glances. Treyton swallows convulsively, and Blaze’s face drains of all color. Only Aleksander appears unperturbed as he grabs his favorite dagger and uses it to file his nails.

And then the two princes speak at once, and my world—for the second time that day—spins on its axis, tilting upside down.

“I’m immortal,” Blaze says, at the same time Treyton breathes, “I weaponized the black virus and may have caused the end of the world.”

Oh…

Oh fuck.

33

TREYTON

Idon’t know why I just blurted it out like that.

All I knew was that she was staring at me, her eyes wide with betrayal and pain, and I wanted to ease her suffering no matter the cost.

She wanted my truths, so I gave them to her.

I just didn’t expect it to go quite like this.

Dark tension saturates the air as Kassandra gapes at me. Even Blaze and Aleksander stare at me in disbelief.

But then that disbelief turns to rage.

Blaze pounces on me before I can stop him, his hand already balled into a fist. I don’t fight him or push him away. It’s the least I deserve after what I did.

Who I killed.

“You son of a bitch!” he roars, spittle flying.

He rams his knuckles against my cheek. Once. Twice. Three times. When he moves his arm back to deliver a fourth punch, Kassandra races forward and grabs his wrist, stopping him. He glares at her, but she meets it head-on with a stony expression of her own. The air around them seems to spark and crackle, and I’m not surprised when Blaze gives in first, turning away with a scowl.

He pushes off of me, jumps to his feet, and storms a short distance away. He begins to pace back and forth, back and forth, his feet creating holes in the dirt.

I can feel Kassandra’s eyes on me—burning and scalding—but I don’t turn away from Blaze. His anger is the safer option. I’d rather stare down his sword than see the disapproval and hatred splayed across Kassandra’s face.

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