Page 63 of A Kingdom of Destruction

“You little wench!”

Now that she had the upper hand, Aven slammed her knuckles into the side of the head. His eyes lolled back in a daze, and she prepared to snap his neck.

Out of nowhere, a knife glinted in the darkness. The fae slashed it toward her throat, and she barely had enough time to arch her back and avoid the hit.

“Enough.” Roran stepped up, no longer content to stay on the sidelines and let her take the lead.

He shouldered her out of the way, and Aven stumbled, regaining her balance in time to see Roran take her place. The fae male tried to get up, but the prince had his foot against the other male’s chest, pushing the breath right out of him.

Roran grabbed the knife, and half a heartbeat later, had it embedded home. The male choked, blood welling up and spewing from his mouth. His accusatory gaze lingered until life left his eyes, and he lay still.

She hardly dared to breathe before Roran removed the blade and stuffed it into his holster. Then he turned and shot her a black look.

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“Ihad it covered!” Despite her trembling limbs, she rounded on Roran, pointing a finger dead square between his eyes. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

Gravity weighed heavily, and she fought it with a panicked sort of denial.Pathetic. She knew the signs of shock better than most people, and by the gods, she was dangerously close. Reality pressed closer and punched her harder than the fae had.

He was dead.

Roran had killed him, but it didn’t matter. It was the end result she’d craved.

Aven drew her shoulders back, locking her knees to avoid giving in to those sensations. She’d taken care of the fae. She would not cry, not now. Not in front of him. “There was no need for you to referee,” she finished.

Cold fury turned his face white—fury like she hadn’t seen in a very long time and hadn’t felt since her siblings had died. It twisted Roran’s features and pulsed out from him with a heat she felt thrumming through her blood.

“He had a knife to your throat. What did you expect me to do? Stand there and watch him slice you open?” Roran sneeredat her. “As thrilling as it might be, I’m not in the mood to clean up your mess tonight.”

“Just tonight? It seems like you’re always there lurking and looming.Maybeit would give you something to do if you cleaned up my mess.”

Like a dead body could be called a mess.

Not to mention she’d known he’d be there. Some small part of her had tuned into the awareness of his presence. She just hadn’t thought about it before the fae male made his presence known.

Roran stepped over the body callously, like any fallen log in the middle of the woods. “When are you going to stop and use your head? Do you know how bad this would have been if I hadn’t been here?” he asked bitterly. “Do you have any clue what might have happened?”

“I told you, I had it covered.” Damn it, her voice sounded tremulous. If she didn’t button it up, she’d lose herself to the shock. “I did not need your help.”

He stared her down before his sneer grew. His teeth flashed in the moonlight. “Stupid girl.Utterlystupid girl. You’re never going to learn.”

“Because I’m mortal, so I’m scum? Save that for someone who actually cares.” She walked past him and knocked her shoulder against his torso on her way past.

Roran remained in place, although she felt his attention on the back of her neck. “You’ll see soon enough what I mean,” he called out after her. “Sleep well tonight, little princess. You’re going to need every ounce of rest you can get. I hope you’re prepared for the fallout.”

Aven refused to turn back around.

“I’m not going to tell anyone about this,” Roran added, “but the sooner you wake up and realize what’s really going on, the better it will be for you.”

The tears, however, broke free the moment she made it to her room.

He saved her. He killed one of his own kind, for her.

She sagged against the wall, her chest tight and her eyes on fire. It never got easier when she took a life. After all these years, she thought it might, or at least it would not weigh so heavily on her soul. Yet the familiar stain grew darker, deeper, and she found it hard to control herself. The runes she’d painted on faded during the fight, but some part of her hesitated to redraw them.

They’d gotten her in this trouble in the first place.

She went straight into the bath and used the hot water to scour away the blood and grime and broken mud runes on her skin. Nothing worked. Even after dousing herself in soap, she still felt the filth on her.

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