Page 13 of Claimed By Shadow and Blood
The scent thickened—another lie.
Heat exploded behind my eyes, and I watched myself standing between the fountain and King Merrick in the garden. He scowled at me and gestured with a gnarled hand, and I yelled at him. The words were vague, and I knew I had never spoken them. I caughtviciousandcompetition. Then a dagger flashed in my hand, and the king fell back a step, his eyes widening with alarm. I lunged at him and plunged the dagger into his chest.
Then the image faded, leaving me back in the present.
No!
That wasn’t real.
None of that happened.
Douchewaffle had to be using some sort of fae magic to convince me that Ihadkilled the king.
I clenched my eyes shut tighter. Pain sliced through me again and pulsed in my veins. A scream tore out of me as I writhed and struggled while my wolf howled and surged forward, trying to help me break free.
We had to escape.
I had to tell Vad I hadn’t done this and get back to Ember.
Vad.
The dark expression he’d worn as he’d watched me being dragged off to prison flashed in my mind. His stormy gray eyes had radiated a mixture of pure rage, confusion, and grief.
“Tell me what you see.” Douchewaffle’s breath puffed against my cheek.
I forced my eyes open, and tears streamed down my cheeks. “A creepy dumbass standing in front of me.” My voice shook, but I wasn’t going to let him win anything more than I could help.
“You think you’re so brave and cute. But I’m done holding back.”
He curled his fingers in front of my face, and my entire body tightened. All the horrible feelings began to build again, like floodwaters behind a dam that refused to let down.
Horrible things circled in my head. My pack destroyed. Vad’s hatred growing with his belief that I’d murdered his father. Thalen turning on me because the truth was too hard to believe. And then the false image of the king scowling at me returned.
This time, I smelled the blood and the light scent of lilies mixed with an overly sweet scent of something else. It filled my nose and wedged deep, pulling me into the moment. The king swayed on his feet, then fell back. And I saw myself spring forward with that dagger glinting in the moonlight a second before I stabbed him in the chest. Blood sprayed my purpleand ivory gown, but I remained beside him and whispered something to him.
“What did you try to forget?” Douchewaffle whispered in my ear. “Tell me what really happened. Tell me what you see.”
My mind spun as I tried to block the image. But the way the garden had smelled remained. The moonlight had cut across the path like a smooth blade while the fountain waters had flowed red. It looked soreal. It would have been so easy for the king to slip. The stones nearest the fountain were slick with the spray of the water...or had we not been that close?
A sickening jolt of doubt jarred me, but my wolf snarled, helping me push the made-up memory out of my brain. “The last day my sister and I ran together in animal form before I was forced to come here,” I spat out.
The dark walls of the interrogation room wavered back into view. The rancid scent of my lie filled my nose, but Douchewaffle stood there, jaw clenched.
Sweat pooled on my brow. “It was a lovely day.”
He cupped one clawed hand along his ear. “Is that a tremor I hear? If it was a good day, then why are you crying and in pain? All I am asking is that you tell me what you see.”
“The sun is shining, and my pack is in animal form.” I opened my eyes, remembering the last run we’d taken before all hell had broken loose. I concentrated on the memory, shoving out the one he had been attempting to implement with magic.
He gave me a false smile, then pressed his two fingers together and curled them against his palm.
Sharp pain lanced through me once more, aching as if my ribs had cracked and reformed. I bit back an agonized scream and sucked in another breath.
“No lies. I know when I’m being lied to.”
So do I. Each time he tried to tell me that I had, in fact, killed the king, I could smell the lie.
Again and again, he plunged me into that horrifying space, the deaths and torments of those I loved worsening and becoming more real. And each time he forced me to watch the king die by my hand, the moment became more real. My senses sharpened, and I was closer and closer to the vision of myself until I was staring down at the king through my own eyes with the dagger in my hand rather than watching from outside my body. I felt it all: the tight rage as I demanded to know who he thought he was to allow these horrific competitions, the dampness of the fountain’s spray, the pressure of his flesh as it yielded beneath the blade, the heat of his blood, and the horrible sucking sound when I drew the blade back.
