Page 55 of The Cursed and the Broken
He didn’t need clarification. “I will,” he replied calmly. “As commander it is my duty to bear the news to the families of the fallen. They will be looked after. My father will ensure they are provided for.”
My eyes stung as I bit back the words I wanted to ask.Who will tell my family? Who will make sure my mother is cared for when she grows old? Who will see to it that Eszter never goes a day without smiling?
I cracked my lids, travelling the sleek jaw, the curves of his lips, the straight nose. And above, to brown eyes, the reflection of the fire flickering in the golden rim. “So much death,” I sighed, pressing my head back into the chair. “The war hasn’t even begun yet.”
“Is that why you were so angry?” he asked gently.
“Since I met you, my world has been upended, Dante. I’m losing everything I care about and I’m … changing into something new. It frightens me.”
“You’re afraid of your power?”
“There is a darkness inside me. A beast roaring to be freed. I’m scared of what will happen when it is.”
He reclined against the couch, crossing a leg over his knee while he swirled his wine goblet. He looked every inch a king upon his throne as his lips curved into a grin. “The world should fear your power, Kitarni.And you. You are no longer a forgotten, lonely girl. You are a wolf, furious and free. It’s time to join your pack.”
The way he spoke kindled a fire inside. There was truth in what he said. Power. And, perhaps the most soul shattering of all, he believed every word. Believed in me.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I leaned forward, closing the book in my lap.
“I’m sorry.”
He raised a brow, remaining silent. The bastard was really going to make me say it. Sighing, I set both the wine and book on the coffee table, clasping my hands together instead.
“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. It wasn’t your fault and I—I was upset about ...” I bit my lip, holding back all the words that wanted to blurt from my mouth.
“What?”
Annoyance flared again. “I’d rather not say.”
“Why were you upset, Kitarni?”
“For the love of Isten, I can’t tell you!” I snapped, rising. Irritation surged through my veins and I scowled, determined to be finished with this conversation. “I’m going to bed.”
His hand snaked out and grasped my wrist quicker than I could blink. “If you’re not going to tell your truth, then I will. Do you want to know why your words hit so hard? Why the blame cut so deep?”
I blinked at him as he stood slowly, towering over me, forcing me to look up into his eyes. His face was filled with an old and primal rage.
“When I was younger, the cultists came to Mistvellen. They struck the day after Yule, while the guards were still drunk and the rest of us were sleeping. It was a bloodbath. Scores of innocents were cut down …”
His voice trailed off and sorrow clutched my heart as he relived the horror of that memory.
The pain in his eyes flared cold as ice. “My father was in Transylvania securing safe trade routes for the witches and táltosok, so he wasn’t around to protect us. I was just a boy, so when they came for her, she didn’t stand a chance. The guards tried to reach us in time, but they were too late. She fought for me with everything she had until they stabbed her. That whole time I just watched, too frightened to move. When they took her, screaming and bleeding,I did nothing.”
Regret coursed through me at those three little words. The same ones I’d snarled at him earlier, not realising the trauma they could cause, the memories they’d rehash.
Silence blanketed the room as we stared at each other, neither one moving a muscle.
“I’ve never spoken to anyone about her, but it’s taken me a long time to forgive myself for not acting that day. I’ve struggled with her loss ever since. So, you can hold on to your truth, you can lie to yourself and shove down your fears, but it will only eat you alive if you let it.”
He’d offered me a glimpse into his past, shared one of his darkest secrets, and it meant too much. He looked at me with a kind of defeated expression and my stomach flipped at the sight of it. Was our little game worth it? Did he really hate me?
Because I didn’t hate him. Not even a little and maybe I was done pretending that I did.
“You don’t understand,” I rasped, emotion clogging my throat. “Saying it out loud will make it real. I can’t deal with this right now. I willbreak.”
He lifted a calloused hand to my cheek. “Then we’ll put you back together, piece by piece.”
My skin hummed under that touch, tingling with awareness. “I …”
