Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Power. Greed. Unfortunately, it’s almost always as simple as that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Erith was fae from the start, knowing how I feel about their kind?”
He’s quiet for a long time, doing nothing but studying my expression. “I didn’t want that to be your reason for agreeing.”
I understand that, and I’m glad I didn’t get on board for that reason alone. “You want fae and humans to live peacefully together again in Elora—the way you said it used to be.”
“Yes. I know many who want to go home as badly as you do.”
I drop my gaze to my hands. “There’s little I want more.”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. It must’ve come loose when we kissed. “Sometimes I think you don’t remember what it was really like in Elora because you romanticize those years with your sister. You want to believe life was better before she took the throne, so you remember the good parts, probably the parts with you and her, and you let yourself forget just how bad the rest was.”
“Is it really so terrible that I wish I could go back? That, in my heart, Elora will always be home?”
“It’s not terrible,” he says, pulling me to stand, “but I’m not convinced it’s true.”
So you don’t want me to come with you? But I don’t ask. I bow my head because I already promised I wouldn’t ask for his tomorrows. It’s not fair to break that promise when I have nothing to offer.
“Jas . . .” His hand skims down my neck and between my breasts, and he presses his palm against my steadily beating heart. “Maybe this homesickness isn’t about missing Elora. Maybe it wouldn’t go away if you got to go back. I think you miss your sister—missed her even while you lived in that palace with her—but you love her too much to let her see how deep these scars really run. I think this ache you feel has nothing to do with the realm we’re trying to save and everything to do with you spending the last three years shutting out the one person who’s always been home to you.”
His words hit me so hard, I squeeze my eyes closed, and when grief and regret threaten to drown me, I step into his arms and hold on. I’ve been walking through life in a trance, choosing numbness over pain and vengeance over fear. I’ve been so shut down. For years I was going through the motions of life, too scared to let myself feel anything, and then, more recently, numb from the ring. Finally, I’m remembering how it feels to be alive, remembering the flip side of the pain and fear.
It’s as if Kendrick’s waking me up. And it’s both wonderful and horrible—to realize I still can feel the good, to find myself wishing for the future for the first time in a long time, and to know I traded so much possibility for revenge.
“Promise me something,” he says into my hair. His palm’s still pressed against my chest, trapped between our bodies. “After all this is over and you return to the Midnight Palace, tell your sister about what happened in the dungeons. Tell her what Mordeus did to you.”
I couldn’t. It would destroy her, but still I hear myself ask, “Why?”
He draws in a ragged breath. “Because you’ll never believe she loves you as you are if you keep hiding the truth.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s love.”
He gives me a sad smile and strokes along my cheek and around my eye, caressing my scar through the glamour. “I’ve never met someone who needed it more.”
“It would break her,” I confess. “The truth. She’d believe she failed me. At least this way only one of us is broken.”
“Hale! People are waiting!” Remme calls from downstairs.
He ignores him. “You think you’re broken?”
I scoff and pull away. “Obviously.” I try to cap my retort with a grin, but his expression is too severe, and I can’t hold it. “Let’s go. You’re late.”
“Jas—”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, swallowing back the emotions that are threatening to choke me. “We’re all a little broken.”
I try to step out of his arms, but he holds me fast.
“Most of us, sure.” He scans my face over and over. “And no one could’ve blamed you if you’d fallen to pieces, but you didn’t. You have all these scars to prove it—and everywhere there’s a scar, you’re a little bit stronger.”
“Don’t.” My eyes burn. I don’t want to do this. Not when it’s such a lie. “I don’t need you to feed me a bunch of motivational nonsense. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, but you’re not broken either.” He holds my face in both hands and presses a hard kiss to my mouth. “Fear isn’t a measure of cowardice, and pain isn’t a measure of weakness. You are brave and strong and anything but broken.”