DAVID
The next morning, David jolted awake from a chaotic dream of firelight and bloodred lips. He sat up, blinking at his surroundings as the dream faded to nothing. Still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, like a bad memory half-forgotten.
With hundreds of books lining the shelves, his new bedroom smelled of parchment and vellum, a fragrance he didn’t know spoke to his soul until just now. David pushed himself out of bed and traipsed to the door, pausing to listen. He heard nothing, but they might still be out there.
With a sigh, he flipped the lock and left the relative safety of his bedroom. In the dining area, Sean sat at the table, hands around a mug of steaming liquid. His black hair was rumpled and the purple smudges beneath his eyes clashed with the sharp blue.
“Morning, honey,” David said, falsely chipper.
The fantastic glare Sean sent his way raised his hackles, but David merely smirked and slipped into the chair opposite him.
Sean took a sip of his concoction. “Do you pride yourself in being annoying?”
“I pride myself in being clever. That it’s annoying to you is a fun little extra.”
With a sigh, Sean rubbed his tired eyes.
Still in a nightgown, red hair knotted atop her head, Autumn flopped into the chair beside David. “Still hate each other?”
He threw a raised eyebrow in her direction. “If I say no, will you stop bugging us about it?”
The tinkling bells of her laughter had become familiar. Autumn’s happiness was like the gold that highlighted her edges or the freckles that formed constellations across her nose—a permanent and unchangeable part of her.
Slightly unfair, really. He’d never suffered through such innocent emotions. He wasn’t sure what to do with them.
As her laughter faded, Isobel stepped into the room, fully dressed and stunningly beautiful. Her gaze darted to his, striking an arrow somewhere in the vicinity of his aorta.
That beauty of hers didn’t reach far past the surface. Inside, Bel was a roiling mess of distrust and resentment, especially when she looked at him. David had done nothing to her, but guilt still pricked his conscience. It couldn’t be easy to have those memories in her head.
“It wasn’t you,” Autumn whispered, then directed a warning look at Bel. “Those memories are only going to get more vivid now that you’re together. You have to remember to separate yourself from them. He never did those things to you.” She turned to David. “And you shouldn’t feel guilty over actions you never took.”
Clearly unimpressed, Isobel snorted. “You should feel guilty for the ones you have though. Sean told me what you’ve done.”
David stood, casting a lopsided smile her way. “Sean doesn’t know the half of it.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re pure honey, aren’t you?” An urn sat steaming on the countertop, so David took his chances and poured a mug. “Those emotions you’re hiding are a cesspool.”
The fire in her eyes was a fascinating new trait. In his memories, Meléan wasn’t so feisty.
The drink was minty and herbal, some sort of tea with a tart kick. He leaned back against the counter.
Bel crossed her arms. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m going to keep you from hurting him again.”
Autumn had filled David in yesterday about the blood oath that connected Isobel to Sean. Stupid bit of recklessness on Meléan’s part, but it gave Bel phenomenal power, apparently. Still, David would take being the heir of a tyrant over suffering a love connection to this psycho bitch. He suspected Isobel Faywood was the kind of woman who could smile while she shoved a knife deep into someone’s stomach.
He toasted her. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Get it out now,” Autumn said, “because when we walk out that door, we’ll present a united front.”
With a spike of rage flashing from Sean, his cup landed on the table with a thud. “Why don’t we just execute him now and save ourselves the trouble?”
A familiar band wrapped David’s chest—the anxiety of a nearby threat. As he had many times in the past, he doused the fire flickering through his nerves with ice water, letting a smirk hide it all. “You think you have it in you to kill a man in cold blood?”
Sean paled. “Maybe if that man was you.”
“You’ve had the chance before and didn’t,” he said with a casual shrug.
