Page 90 of Of Wind and Terror

As she moves to stand by Blaze, the last piece of my heart dissolves into dust. I lower my head between my legs and begin to sob.

34

KASSANDRA

Treyton created the black virus.

That realization sits like a boulder in my stomach.

Maybe created is too generous of a term—after all, it’s been around for thousands of years, since the time of Chaos, apparently—but he made it the insidious monster it is today. All of those fae who have been turned into hideous, mindless beasts…

It’s because of him.

My hearing loss…

My missing voice…

It’s all his fault.

Pain jangles my nerves, made even more prominent when I hear Treyton’s sobs from behind me. Has the Spring Prince ever cried before? I’m not sure. I force my heart to harden against him as I move to stand beside a still-pacing Blaze.

Through the knotted branches above, I see that the sky is riven with gray clouds that resemble clumps of iron. I suspect the last thing we want is to get trapped in the Forest during a thunderstorm.

I place a hand on the small of Blaze’s back to stop his pacing, and he whirls towards me, his mouth molded into a frown and a disarranged strand of reddish-brown hair falling into his eyes. I hesitantly push up on my tiptoes to swipe it away.

His gaze softens nearly imperceptibly, and his hands move to rest on my waist.

“Don’t think I forgot what you confessed to,” I tell him, a strange feeling arrowing through me.

Immortal.

That was what he said, wasn’t it?

Immortal.

How is that even possible?

I focus on his gallant face and that sensual mouth. It’s easier than staring into his brown and green eyes.

The silence is so fraught with tension that I actually begin to feel sick. It’s pressing down on me, suffocating me, encasing me in a tomb I can’t escape from.

“I planned on telling you,” Blaze says quietly. So quietly, I suspect he’s trying to keep our conversation private.

My heart beats dauntingly against my rib cage. “What did you mean when you said you’re immortal?”

“Exactly as it sounds.” One corner of his lips drags down slightly. “I don’t age, and I won’t die…at least from natural causes. I believe I can be killed, but no one has gotten close enough to try.”

“How is that possible?”

Fae don’t live forever. We live and die, just like any other creature that walks this world.

Up above, lightning flashes and thunder booms. Runt, who has been keeping watch, whines and paws at the ground.

Blaze glances up at the impending storm and curses savagely. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, little beast, but we need to get out of this damn Forest.”

I debate for a moment before nodding. He’s right. Now isn’t the time to have this conversation. It’s already unnaturally dark in the Forest, and with the storm approaching, it’s becoming even darker. The gnarled branches above have never looked more menacing, resembling the arms of skeletal monsters.

“We can find a place to camp for the night and then resume our journey as soon as the storm stops,” Aleksander pipes in, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

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