Page 94 of Ruling Destiny

Killian’s gaze locks onto mine. “And what about you, Shiv? Exactly how straight have you been? Seems to me, you’ve been holding on to a few secrets of your own.”

“Me?” I balk. “Sorry to disappoint, but I got nothing.” I force a laugh, but I can see from the angle of Killian’s brow that he’s not buying a word of it.

“It’s a wonder to watch just how easily the lie spills from those beautiful lips.” He slides to the edge of his chair, his hand reaching for my face but stopping just shy of making contact. “Do you remember the night we met?”

His gaze holds on mine, and just like that, the high I was riding a few moments earlier has taken a turn toward something that feels like a warning of sorts.

“Yes,” I reply in a tremulous voice. “I was in a Fade.”

“And yet still you remember.” He veers toward me in a way that leaves me regretting the part I played in bringing us here.

I was only looking for some truths—hoping that, as my friend, Killian might finally be honest with me. But I should’ve known better. Considering the proposal he made earlier, when he basically asked me to cheat on Braxton, Killian wants far more than I’m willing to give.

I swallow hard, start to look away, when he dips a hand toward my chest and lifts the talisman that hangs from my neck.

“And are you in a Fade now?” he asks, studying the small golden cage that Braxton had made.

Not trusting my voice to speak, I shake my head.

“Then you have no convenient excuse for the way you’re looking at me, do you?”

56

“Killian…” I start, having no idea what will follow. I just know that I have to say something, anything, to stop this—whatever this is—from progressing any further. But Killian cuts in before I can finish.

“Outside the shelter of these walls,” he says, voice barely a whisper, “the heart and soul of this city will soon be ablaze. But here, it’s just you and me, where no one can harm us, observe us, judge us. Doesn’t that strike you as remarkable? That we should find ourselves here, all alone, at this dark time in history?”

My heart is pounding so hard, I fear he can hear it, see the beat of it under my skin. I pull away, watching the talisman fall from his fingers. “It was supposed to be Braxton,” I say, my voice a choked whisper. “You’re here by default.”

I hold my breath in my cheeks, waiting to see how my words land. And from the way his lips tighten and his eyes pinch at the sides, it’s the equivalent of tossing a pail of freezing cold water over his head.

Good. Maybe now we can get back on track.

“And what I really want to know,” I say, determined to finally get some answers, “is the truth of what happened between you and Braxton back in France. I want every detail—leave nothing out. And I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t even try.”

Killian considers me for an agonizingly long beat. Then, coming to a decision, he tops off his wine, settles back in his seat, and launches into a story that stretches all the way back to the eighteenth century.

The year 1741, to be exact, when Braxton and Killian Tripped to the Basilique Royale de Saint-Denis in France, a necropolis where many French royals are buried.

I lean toward him, on the lookout for signs of duplicity. But so far, everything checks and his voice rings with sincerity.

According to Killian, there were three of them in that ancient Necropolis. Himself, Braxton, and another man who goes unnamed. But, in the end, only Braxton returned to Gray Wolf. The man was left for dead, and Killian was left to fend for himself in a time that wasn’t his.

“It’s a miracle you found me,” he says.

“No.” I shake my head, lower my gaze. “Not a miracle.” I sigh, alarmed by the way my heart has gone numb, as my mind whirls with the glaring disparities between Braxton’s version and Killian’s.

But who to believe?

During Braxton’s telling, he acted cagey, like he hated every moment of being forced to talk about it.

But is that because the memory really did pain him, like he claimed?

Or is it because he hadn’t had a chance to fully hone his story and polish the lie—to sell it in a more believable way.

While Killian, on the other hand… Well, he seemed so eager to spill it. And yet, why wouldn’t he be?

In his version, he’s cast as the victim.

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