Page 82 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

“Because it tastes good.” He beamed. “It’s like a dessert in a glass.” He took another sip before setting his glass down. “But I’m not going to force you, my precious.” He took my glass from me and placed it next to his. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t like.”

“Thank you,” I exhaled with relief, dropping my shoulders as the tension released me somewhat.

“There, there…” He lifted my chin again, stroking my skin with his thumb. “I’m not angry. I understand. You don’t trust me.” He looked hurt, his bottom lip extended in a tragic expression.

“No, Your Majesty, I do. But…”

“Let’s talk, sweetie. Tell me what makes you so distant. Are we not friends?” His voice flowed smoothly like a river. “Tell me what bothers you?”

Indeed, what the hell was bothering me? I had put so much effort into trying to become his friend. And now, when the king actually called us friends, I was risking ruining it all.

I often got tongue-tied around him. It couldn’t be helped. The king was just so grand and majestic, it was impossible not to feel awe-struck in his presence. But there was something else tonight. It scratched inside me, echoing through my chest with screeching howls, like the tormented screams of the cursed.

“Three days ago,” I said. “Those cages with—”

“Ah,” he interrupted me. “You’re still upset about my little event?” His perfect features distorted into a frown of disgust, possibly at the memory of me throwing up my breakfast in front of the entire court.

“Was it really necessary to have that ‘event,’ Your Majesty?” I asked. “Those people—”

“They’renotpeople. Not anymore. A fae cannot break their promise without losing their mind and eventually their life. The cursed sealed their fate the moment they gave a promise they couldn’t keep.”

“But what kind of promise would do this?”

“Anykind, my dear. It could be that they promised to be faithful and loyal but ended up lying and cheating. Or it could be that they promised to arrive somewhere in five minutes and ended up taking six. There is just no way to tell now. They certainly no longer remember what brought the curse on their heads. The point is, they are no longerpeople. They don’t know their names, don’t recognize their loved ones. They’re cursed to rage in frenzy until the wings of death close over them and they’ll be judged by the gods.”

“It’s terrible,” I exhaled. The images of that day wouldn’t leave me. “That woman looked so young.”

“Young and stupid,” he bit out. “Regardless, she should’ve known better than to give promises sealed by magic.”

The memory of the poor girl thrashing on the ground in torment, breaking her own bones, and trying to climb out of her skin assaulted me anew. Tears trembled on my eyelashes. Cupping my face, the king brushed them off with his thumbs.

“Aww, you have such a soft heart, my sweet baby chick. But there is no need to shed tears for the cursed. They feel nothing. And you don’t have to worry about that woman. Seeing how it affected you, I showed her mercy.” He raised his head regally.

“You did?” I pressed my hands to my chest. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

With his hands on my waist, he pulled me closer.

“You’re very welcome, my treasure.” He slid his hand into the neckline of my robe, caressing my skin underneath.

I gave him a smile, glad it felt like a genuine one. His fingers encountered Voron’s necklace on my chest. He tugged at it, his warm expression instantly cooling off.

“This is Voron’s, isn’t it?” He frowned at the string of silver berries. “I’ve seen him wear it back at the camp during the last war.” He fingered the beads, contemplating something. “Since you’re not drinking with me, there won’t be any harm in you taking this off, will there?”

Voron was gone, but his necklace kept protecting me, even in his absence. Taking it off felt like stripping myself of the only protection I had left.

I gripped the stone pendant through my robe. “Can I keep it on? Please?”

The king pressed his full lips into a hard line of irritation.

“Are you disobeying your king, Sparrow? Again?”

I couldn’t recall him ever calling me by my name before. I wasn’t even sure he knew it. His using it now highlighted his displeasure, even as his voice remained low.

“Your Majesty—” I tried to plead, but he stopped me with a kiss on my temple.

“Perhaps I should explain myself rather than demand. Forgive me, sweetie, I’ve been the Sky King for so long, I’ve grown intolerant to any kind of opposition.”

I liked the change in his tone and the turn in our conversation. The king asked for my forgiveness.

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