Page 68 of To No End

I reached for his hand, finally feeling the touch of his skin against mine, and I held it tightly, trying to reassure him that I did not see him the way he saw himself. “You’re not a monster, Trace, don’t say that!”

“Cress, you know nothing about me or my past.” His eyes were wide and his words pained. It hurt to hear him say I knew nothing about him, but it also felt true.

“You heard Varro, I’m a black cloak. We’re lethal and savage, we do things I won’t allow myself to say out loud. I don’t even deserve to be in your presence.”

I tried to console him. “You’re military, you were only doing what was commanded of you.”

Trace scoffed and began to shake his head. “We are not military, Cress. The Orni exists in the shadows. We don’t belong to the king, we belong to no one. You know what we black cloaks say?‘For coin or Cambria.’Yes, sometimes our king has employed our services when his own couldn’t get the job done, but we serve whoever can pay the price for our services.”

I was trying to reconcile what Trace was implying. So, he wasn’t Kingsguard, or military at all? He was nothing more than a paid assassin? Someone who just killed for money? My chest tightened with concern, not for my safety, because I was certainhe’d never hurt me, but for the looming fact that perhaps the lies Trace had told during our time together concealed much more than I ever had.

My thoughts were a tangled mess trying to make sense of it all. “But how did you become a member of the High Court if you committed these terrible misdeeds?”

“Many years ago, the daughter of a High Lord needed a favor, something unspeakable and unforgivable. She enlisted the help of the Orni, but the price was enormous. Coin alone would never be enough; he demanded a bargain. Her hand in marriage. Thus, he made his way into the High Court via marriage to a Royal Fae. This solidified his power and rank, but he did not settle for the life of a lord. He had far too much bloodlust for a simple life.”

Trace’s voice was shaky; he struggled to get the words out, and that’s when I knew exactly who the daughter of the High Lord was. The female he’d spoken fondly but briefly of—his mother.

I reached for his face to cup his cheek in my hand, and he leaned into the feeling of my caress. His eyes closed briefly, and it was like a world of sadness pooling heavily in my palm. I ran my thumb across his eyebrow with the thin silver scar. He opened his eyes and the hazel bored into me with a beseeching look.

“How did this happen?”

He pulled away from my hand and replied, “Varro isn’t the only one with a terrible father.”

My eyes widened at the thought of Trace’s own father laying a hand on him.

“It’s a brand. All the Wick brothers have this. When we were barely adolescents, he tore us away from our mother to begin our ‘training.’ It began with him holding a scalding hot knife against our brow. I wish I could tell you that the act taught us some insightful lesson, but it was just a sick way to signify to the others that we were his sons and to set us apart like livestock. Weweren’t allowed to heal ourselves, and nobody else was allowed to help. That’s why we have the scars. Pride can lead one to do terrible things, Cress.”

I longed to hear my name from his mouth, and each time he said it, I had to restrain myself from pressing mine against his. But everything he said was terribly tragic, and I felt overwhelmed with despair for what he had been put through. His father sounded truly evil, and it was hard to fathom that his father might be the same if not worse than Varro’s.

I hadn’t realized just how much normalcy and love I had been raised around. Everyone here had some sort of tragedy befall them at one time or another. Cairis, the bastard half-breed. Nori, the miraculous only child. Gia, the broken bonded. Trace, the tormented. As for Varro, I did not know him well, but House Corliss would forever be stained due to his father’s treachery. Then there was me. Not special, or unique, just a twin, born into a good family who gave me a good life. It felt unfair, and in some weird way, I felt uneasy about my peaceful life.

My peers had been hurt before they came here. They had motivation to be angry and vengeful, but I had no such thing to drive me.

I knew there was a part of me that was speaking with the real Trace for the first time, but there was also a part of me that wasn’t listening, wasn’t accepting it. I had spent so much time with him that there was an idea I’d built up of who he was—and who he was to me.

I did not fear him, yet I should have. I should’ve cared about the lives he’d taken, but I didn’t. My feelings and thoughts were mired in contradiction, and my instincts danced between longing and wanting to run.

I leaned in closer to him, his scent further intoxicating my will. This time, Trace did not back away. I could feel my feet lightly touching his below the water. Eventually, our foreheadsrested together, our breathing heavy. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest with my palm resting above his heart. I wanted him to know that if he was a monster, I wanted him to bemymonster. Nothing so reckless had ever felt this right.

Our mouths hovered close, the warmth of our breath swirling together in a whirlpool of lustful anticipation. “We can’t do this,” he rasped.

“I know,” I replied.

“Cress…” he said my name like a quiet prayer.

“Yes?”

“This place is going to make us do terrible things. Things far worse to witness than violence.”

“I don’t care,” I said breathlessly.

“Don’t promise me anything beyond this moment,” he panted.

His request sounded like he was begging for a reprieve only I could offer him. Promises didn’t seem like something either of us could make from here on out, so I acquiesced.

“I won’t.”

Before I could say another word, Trace’s lips were pressed firmly to mine and his hands roamed over every curve of my body with the ferocity of someone starved for touch. It was messy and rough; the steam of the room made it more difficult to breathe as we gasped from one intense kiss to the next.

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