Page 131 of Trust In Love (Love Mark 2)

But Indigo easily countered, “Of course, it is. Whenever you decide to forgive him enough to explain to him everything he did wrong to begin with, all this will be over.” Indigo gave a decisive nod. “He’ll fall into line, and you two will live happily ever after.”

With a sigh, I folded my arms stiffly over my chest. “You really are impossible, Indy.”

He merely shrugged. “He’s your one true love, my lady. The mark recognized him as such. And then you yourself fell for him, all on your own.”

When I sent him a sharp glance of surprise, he grinned.

“Yeah, it’s written all over your face. You love the idiot. You know it, I know it, the mark knows it. And the mark is never wrong. You can try to hold on to your anger and hurt all you want, but the mark is never wrong. You’re only putting off the inevitable here, you know.”

I hugged myself, feeling awful and alone, not sure what to do, what I should do. Thinking about Farrow wasn’t supposed to cause me so much torment. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt.

I truly hated this.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I told Indigo in no uncertain terms. I still felt like too much of a fool for not getting my own soul mate to love me enough to be completely honest with me.

Indigo nodded, complying, though he probably knew he didn’t need to press the matter. He’d planted the seed in my head; he knew it would grow and fester, forcing me to think about it and make a level-headed decision.

“Isn’t it amazing how truly inept Far Shore knights are,” he said, suitably changing the subject. “I mean, we defeated them with an apple cart.” He snorted out a laugh. “A damn apple cart.”

I sighed and corrected him, “You mean, a grumpacker cart.”

The three of us made camp that night at the edge of the Back Forest. Since none of us had had time to grab our packs of supplies in Blayton before escaping, we used the lightning from the magical wrist guards to start a fire over some kindling, and we ate game that Farrow had caught somehow by hand. Then Indigo got us some water he’d found in a nearby brook, and we supped quietly together.

When it came time to sleep, I started to tear the petticoats of my dress so the men would have some form of blankets and coverage, but they both immediately nixed that idea, refusing to let me part with any more warmth I could keep to myself. So we hovered close to the fire and fell into fitful sleeps on cold beds of dried, dead leaves.

Farrow passed out first, having had the hardest day. Exhaustion bore down on him and sucked him under against his will. When I finally joined him in rest, I was dragged into the throne room back in his father’s castle, right at the moment his sister was murdered.

I experienced her death in first person, helping her cover her throat with my own hands and watching her life force drain from between my fingers. It was my own mouth I used to kiss her, desperate to bring her back. And it was my confusion and loss when it didn’t work.

And then it all happened again, playing in repeat. Sable died a dozen times, before suddenly, the body I was trying to save was my own, my throat torn open from the river monster. But this time, when Farrow kissed me, I remained dead.

r /> From there on out, the dead princesses alternated between me and Sable, then sometimes his mother died before his eyes, and Farrow could never save any of us. I was forced to watch three women die over and over again until someone shouted, “Nicolette. My God, wake up.”

A hand shook my shoulder roughly.

I bolted upright with a gasp.

Indigo kneeled beside me, looking concerned. “You were weeping in your sleep,” he reported quietly.

I lifted a hand to my throat, almost expecting it to be flayed open. But the flesh was perfectly unmarred. Panting out the last vestiges of fear, I told him, “I’m fine. It wasn’t my nightmare.”

Together, we glanced toward Farrow. He remained lying on the ground, but his eyes were open as he watched us from haunted eyes.

My heart wept for the broken man.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I told him. “You tried everything possible to save her. I saw it. There was nothing else you could do.”

I was about to remind him he had saved me—one out of three was better than zero out of three—but he merely turned onto his other side to face away from us.

I opened my mouth and started to move toward him, but Indigo caught my arm. When I met his gaze, he shook his head, staying me with a wince that said, Not yet. Farrow wasn’t ready to let me comfort him in his grief.

And that’s what hurt most of all. My own partner couldn’t open up to me.

31

Farrow

We reached the destination that Indigo led us to—a cottage on the beach—early the next evening. The other two had let me trail along silently behind them throughout the day, and I was grateful for that.

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