Page 81 of Taken By the Fae King

“I know.” I wrap my arms around his waist, and he curls his wings around us both. “But if there is anything in the prophecy that will help us to defeat the Mages and the Wraith, I think we should learn what it is, Kyven.”

Reluctantly, he nods. “We will speak with Norlyn tomorrow. The ancient tomes of the Lythyrian are guarded by several wards. He will need to remove them to give you access. But first, I will take you to the heart tree.” He cups my cheek. “It is tradition for a new monarch to seek guidance from the spirit of the tree before their crowning.”

“You were crowned not very long ago. What sort of guidance did the heart tree give you then?” I ask, curious to know. “Did it mention anything about us?”

A dozen emotions flicker across his expression before he lowers his gaze. “I cannot speak of it, or else I risk altering my fate.”

“It’s all right,” I reassure him, gently squeezing his hand. “Whatever it was, I understand that you cannot tell me.”

He lifts his gaze back to mine. “I need you to remember this moment, Grayce.”

Worry tightens my chest at his ominous words. I want so much to ask what he means, but I know that he cannot answer.

When we lie down in bed, Kyven holds me close. And although his wings and his arms are wrapped solidly around me, he has never felt further away.

CHAPTER41

KYVEN

Ilisten as Grayce’s breaths become soft and even as she drifts off to sleep. She lies so trustingly in my embrace that it threatens to break me. I do not deserve her trust or her love. I am anxious to speak to the heart tree myself tomorrow.

I cannot keep this secret from her any longer. She has asked for honesty between us, and she deserves nothing less than the truth.

Closing my eyes, I send a silent prayer to the gods to guide me. To show me what to do. The spirit of the heart tree told me not to reveal my secret to Grayce, but I cannot continue to lie to her, to hide the truth of what I did.

When I was secretly courting her as Joren, I had plenty of opportunities to tell her that I was not human—to admit to who I was, but I did not. Now, I fear that if she discovers what I did, she will never forgive me for lying to her.

I curl my wings tightly around her form as dread twists deep in my gut. For better or worse, I cannot keep this secret any longer. The spirit of the heart tree told me that to admit my deception would alter my fate. Worried, I did as she instructed and remained silent. Before now, I have always trusted the will of the gods, but now I am finding it hard to do.

I only pray that Grayce will forgive me when she learns the terrible truth.

I blinkmy eyes open and find it is still night. Moonlight spills through the window, casting a silver glow across the chamber. Still half asleep, I struggle to focus through the fog of exhaustion as I lift my head.

Alarm bursts through me, and I whip my head around the chamber, searching for any signs of danger. Worry grips my chest in an iron vise, seizing my lungs. It takes me a moment to realize that this emotion is not coming from me. It is flowing across the bond from Grayce.

She is still wrapped up in my arms, but her brow is creased in fear. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, and she begins thrashing against my hold, lost in the throes of a nightmare.

“Grayce, wake up,” I murmur, shaking her gently, trying to rouse her from this torment. But she does not wake, her body only growing more rigid, her whimpers more pronounced.

Desperate to help her, I close my eyes and place my fingers on her temple. Our connection flares to life, and my mind pours into hers like liquid pouring into a glass as I dive into her dream, determined to save her from whatever haunts her.

Grayce stands in a dimly lit room, her mother’s lifeless body lying across the floor behind her. Her face is streaked with tears, terror and determination etched into her features. Blood trails down her front from the blade lodged just beneath her collar. The assassin towers over her, a dark figure with a mask obscuring his face, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

He lunges toward her, readying to end her life, but Grayce rips the dagger free of her chest with a primal scream and slashes it across his left cheek.

The assassin stumble back, covering his face with one hand as black blood oozes from the wound.

My gaze is drawn to a sudden flash of movement at his back—the unmistakable glint of a wing. My heart clenches with realization: her mother’s assassin was a Fae.

“Grayce!” I cry out, and she spins toward me. I reach for her hand, our bond pulsing with urgency, ripping her from the nightmare and pulling her back to the waking world.

She awakens with a start, her breaths ragged and her eyes wide with terror. I gather her close, pressing her trembling form against my chest. “You’re safe, my A’lyra,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She clings to me, her fingers digging into my skin. “His back.” Her voice quavers. “Kyven, he had wings. I never noticed them before.”

“I saw them,” I whisper.

“He’s Fae, Kyven. And he is coming for me.” A broken sob escapes her. “I can feel it.”

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