Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
His sorrow was familiar. It was always there, shadowing his every step, every breath. I often thought about how he could laugh and tease. How he could be so ridiculously vexing while feeling such grief. I wondered if the teasing and his all-too-easy laughter were also masks because I knew his pain started and probably ended with his brother.
I didn’t know what the discomfort was tied to, but I didn’t feel anything that made me think he wasn’t telling the truth now.
And maybe…maybe that meant the name Hawke was real. That it wasn’t a lie.
The next breath I took felt thin. “Why are you telling me this about your name? Why does it matter?”
He was quiet now, his features smoothing out. “Because knowing that Hawke is a part of my name, a part of me, matters to you.”
“Can you read minds?” I asked, thinking I’d probably asked that before but I felt like I needed to ask again. Mind reading couldn’t be too farfetched considering he could force his will upon others, and especially since what he said was true. It did matter to me. Why? I had no idea, because what did it change? At the end of the day…nothing.
A faint grin appeared. “No, I cannot, which is a disappointment when it comes to you. I would love to know what you’re thinking—what you’re really feeling.”
Thank the gods he didn’t know, because what I was feeling was messier than when I attempted to knit.
“I am Hawke,” he said after a moment. “And I am Casteel. I’m not two separate people, no matter how badly you want to believe that.”
I tensed, my grip tightening around the handle of the knife. I hated how well he knew me. “I know that.”
“Do you really?”
A rush of frustration scorched my skin because I did often think of him as two different people, but mainly that there were simply different masks he wore, and there’d been one for Hawke.
But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t.
“I know you are the same,” I said. “You are the one who lied to me from the beginning, and you’re the one who is holding me captive now. It doesn’t matter what name you used while doing it.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Yet you haven’t called me Hawke since you learned who I was.”
The frustration quickly flamed into anger. “And why does that matter, Hawke?”
A smile crept across his lips then, one that showed the barest hint of fangs. “Because I miss hearing you say it.”
I stared at him for what felt like a small eternity. “You’re ridiculous, Casteel.”
He laughed, and the sound was warm and deep and real. I felt his amusement through the connection, a sprinkling of sugar on my tongue. That almost angered me enough to do something very reckless with the knife yet again. Somehow, I managed to resist the impulse that proved just how violent I could be.
His humor faded. “I haven’t lied to you since you learned who I was.”
“How am I to believe that?” I demanded. “And even if you haven’t, that doesn’t erase those lies.”
“You’re correct. I don’t expect you to believe, nor do I expect you to ever forget those lies,” he said. Again, through the connection I had left open, I felt sadness with the fading taste of humor. “But I have nothing to gain from lies now. I have what I want. You.”
“You do not have me.”
One side of his lips curled up. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. Ask me something, Princess. Ask me anything, and I will tell you the truth.”
A hundred different questions arose. There was so much I could ask him. Two things dominated.
Did you ever care for me?
Was any of it real?
I wouldn’t ask those questions again. “And I’m just supposed to believe you?”
“Whether or not you do is up to you.”
It wasn’t just a question of me choosing to believe him, but I didn’t point that out. There was another question that rose to the forefront, something I’d been thinking about earlier.
“Did you kill the first Maiden?” I asked.
“What?” Surprise filled his tone, and I also felt it through the cord—cool like a splash of ice water.
I told him what the Duchess had claimed about the first Maiden’s abilities. “She said that the Maiden had been unworthy, even though she was still to be given to the gods. But her decisions and choices led her to the Dark One. To you.” Just like me. “The Duchess basically said that the Dark One killed her.”
“I don’t know why the Duchess would tell you that. The only Maiden I have met is you,” he answered, and I could feel the hot, acidic burn of anger radiating from him. “I don’t even know if there truly was another Maiden.”
I… I had not considered the possibility that there had been no other Maiden. That could explain why there was nothing written about her, not even a name. But for her to not exist at all?