Page 96 of Heir of Illusion

I start toward the door, but the king is in front of me again.

“Shh.” He reaches out, brushing away the tears that stream down my face. “Don’t be frightened, child.”

I nod, wanting to make him happy, but I am terrified. A hiccup rises in my throat, and I accidentally disappear. My face squinches from the pain of the illusion settling over my skin like thousands of tiny needles pricking me all at once. I only developed my abilities a few months ago, and Bel always teases me for having no control over them.

“Awraith,” the king whispers, his eyes wide as a genuine smile lights up his face. “Even more unique than I realized.”

I try to hold on to the illusion, but it slips away, leaving me vulnerable. I turn toward my father, my desperate eyes begging him to intervene, but he does nothing. A scream tears from my throat as the king reaches out, lifting me into his arms with ease.

“It’s alright, child.” He rubs his hand against my back, trying to soothe me. “I mean you no harm.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning into the crook of his neck as tears stream down my cheeks. Chairs scratch against the floor as people rise from the table, but I don’t look up as we exit the room and make our way through the halls.

“You are going to come live with me for a while,” the king murmurs into my ear, his soft voice hypnotizing. “Doesn’t that sound nice? Living in a palace like a princess?”

“I don’t want to go,” I protest, my voice trembling. “I want to stay with Bel and Clara.”

He ignores my request as he continues to whisper calming words. Despite my fear, I find my eyes drifting shut. I don’t want to leave, but I’m so tired. It’s as if I’m back in the lake, giving up once again. It’s hard to keep fighting when everyone is stronger than me.

We’re passing through the front doors when the screaming starts.

I lift my head, searching for the source of the frantic cries, but the king keeps walking and the guards around us don’t react. I find the queen’s gaze again, seeing anger warring with her heartbreak.

Whatever’s happening in there sounds horrific, yet no one is doing anything. I don’t understand any of this as we continue out front to find a carriage waiting. The king loads us inside, positioning me in his lap while the queen sits across from us. As soon as the doors are shut, the carriage takes off. I wobble as the movement jostles me. Twisting my neck, I peek out the window and get my final glimpse of the only home I’ve ever known.

The screams follow us all the way down the drive, so loud I’m sure I will never stop hearing them.

My eyes shootopen as the dream fades.

I find myself in my bed at the palace, lying on my side facing the window. Morning light sneaks past the gaps in the curtains, not quite reaching me. It’s been a while since I dreamed about that night. Over the years, the truth of it became buried in my mind as I convinced myself it was more nightmare than memory. Nothing but the dramatic imaginings of a lonely child.

At the time, I didn’t understand most of what happened. I was weak and tired, barely staying upright on my own. And after all, Baylor was kind to me. He spoke softly, treating me like something precious. Somewhere in my subconscious, I think I knew I couldn’t afford to hate him. So, I hid the truth, lying to myself the way I do with everyone else.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized that Clara and the other servants had fled for their lives like the desperate stars she talked about. But death gave chase in the form of soldiers, creeping ever closer until their lights were snuffed out. Forgotten.

Their lives were erased just as easily as the events of that night.

But the rumors lived on. I’m not sure where they started, but someone began telling tales of the littlewraithwho clawed out of her own grave. When asked, most brush it off, claiming they don’t believe the story. But their lies are as evident as the fear on their faces when I glance in their direction.

I close my eyes, wanting to relive the dream again and punish myself a bit more with painful memories. Just as the stars were cursed to die, I’m cursed to be the only one who remembers the way they once shined.

I’ve just begun to slip away when the bed dips behind me. My hand skates over the silk sheets, slipping under the pillow where my dagger hides.

“Careful, pet,” a familiar voice admonishes me.

My eyes snap open as his hand presses against my stomach, pulling me into his hard chest. His face nuzzles my neck as he nips at my ear with his sharp teeth.

“Good morning,fiancée.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Fiancée.

He relishes the word, drawing it out in a way that is meant to be seductive. My stomach churns. I never thought I’d hate an endearment more thanpet, but this is somehow worse.

“I missed you last night,” he continues, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair.

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