Page 181 of Midnights
I press my lips together, stifling another laugh.
“Others would even say he had a woman, and that’s why he was grumpy.”
She chuckles at her own words and her eyes crinkle. The magic of the story starts to wrap itself around me, like it belongs to me and me alone.
“One day, he met the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen,” she lowers her voice, drawing me closer to the edge of the story. “She had hair like midnight. She was wild, and everything he found intolerable.”
I peek out from the covers, wide-eyed, and hanging onto every word.
“She spoke her mind. She never took things at face value. She always had to know the truth for herself. And that infuriated the king most of all. He neverknew what she would say or do next. She was always causing trouble, and he wanted nothing to do with her.”
She pauses, tilting her head, waiting.
I take the bait.
“And yet?” I whisper.
Her lips twitch into that knowing smile, the one that makes me feel like she's already got me cornered.
“And yet,” she continues, “try as he might, he couldn't stay away. He was infatuated. Obsessed, some would say. He knew that loving her would eventually cost him, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay, in the end.”
My fingers clutch the blanket tighter. “Did the king stay away?”
She brushes a stray curl from my face, her expression is soft, but her eyes are distant.
“Oh, no, my little bird. Kings are very stubborn that way. He loved her beyond reason. He chose her, and with that choice, he sealed his fate. And hers.”
The warmth in her voice fades, giving way to something heavier.
“He knew she carried a power as ancient as the stars. Magic that was as fierce as it was beautiful. He understood that if he bound himself to her, every child in his line would inherit her wildness, her fire… and her power.”
Her fingers still in my hair.
“Every daughter. Every son. Would carry the mark and have her spark of something dangerous.”
The air is charged with something I don’t understand, and I almost think I imagined it. She speaks so softly, that it sounds like she's speaking them more to the night than to me.
“It was never broken,” she whispers.
There's a long pause before she speaks again.
“You’re running out of time.”
I freeze, looking up at her. Her eyes are distant, and unfocused, like she’s seeing something I can’t. Her words linger, and for the first time, I wonder if there’s something more to this story?
“Raven?”
Kane’s voice slices through the haze, grounding me too fast. I blink up at him, the memory, or whatever the hell that was, already slipping away.
I’m crouched on the floor holding a shard of broken pottery, like a total lunatic.
“Yes. Sorry. What’s up?” I quickly force my tone as casual as I can, like I wasn’t just seconds away from mentally unraveling into the dirt.
He crosses his arms, studying me. His eyes sweep over the broken pieces at my feet, then back to the way my fingers clutch around one a little too tightly.
“I should be the one asking you that.” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it. “You wandered over here, crouched down, and started picking up broken pottery. Care to explain what you’re doing?”
I swallow, scrambling for an excuse that doesn’t make me sound like I’ve lost my grip on reality.
