Page 96 of Of Wind and Terror

At least, that’s what I heard. The Night and Day Courts were supposed to be inseparable. They were—or are—one half of the same whole.

So why would Sylvan betray Draven?

Why would he steal his magic and lock him away?

“I needed to dispatch the Summer ruling family.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “The Night Court wouldn’t help me, and I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. If it were just me, the other seasonal courts would have rallied behind the Summer Court and destroyed my kingdom. However, with the Night and Day forces combined, the other courts were a lot more hesitant to declare war.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want to kill the Summer Court rulers?” I sift through my meager knowledge on court politics but can’t think of any reason why Sylvan would want the Summer rulers dead. They were allies—more so than any of the other courts, excluding Night. Summer can’t survive without sunlight, after all.

“I didn’t have a choice. They were infected.”

“Infected?” I parrot.

By the black virus?

Thoughts of Treyton press to the forefront of my mind, but I push them back.

“No.” Draven shakes his head and frowns, forcing his gaze straight ahead. The skin around his eyes scrunches, forcing his scar to crease. The jagged line has never looked so severe before, so out of place on features that may have been described as angelic. “By Chaos.”

37

TREYTON

Iwake to music.

Soft, seductive music that tugs at something deep in my chest.

I hadn’t been sleeping. My mind refuses to shut down. All I can think about is—what could I have done differently?

The answer is obvious.

If I could go back in time, I would change just about everything.

No black virus.

No war.

The Treyton back then had been cocky and arrogant, confident in his role and prestige. He didn’t give a shit about the working class or the lower fae. When he wasn’t searching for the bottom of a bottle, he was in bed with a different female. That Treyton sought pleasure however he saw fit. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no boundary he wouldn’t cross.

I wish I could change all of that.

It’s not just because of Kassandra. Yes, my mate certainly plays a part in all of this, but it’s not just because of her. I hate the male that I’ve become—I’ve hated him for a while, if I’m being completely honest. My self-guilt has been eating away at me like a corrosive acid. I don’t even recognize the carcass that remains.

Kassandra will never forgive me, and I can never forgive myself.

So where does that leave me?

Alone.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

The music continues to play, the soft notes drifting to me in the burrow.

Slowly, I venture out of the tiny cave and into the still night. I have no idea when it stopped raining, but the air is dry and stale. Moisture glistens on the leaves and tree branches, and the earth sinks beneath my feet.

That music…

---