Page 85 of A Tempest of Shadows

“Because there is great evil in the realms. There is a lot of good, and I’ve encountered plenty of that, but I’ve run into my fair share of monsters too.”

I knew that I was living amid some of those monsters now, but this was a level of depravity I never could have imagined existing. No wonder he was so different from the man I met on that snowy day six years ago.

He’d been far from a boy then but more innocent. That man had gone to war and returned with more knowledge of the realms and the nightmares they contained. He had a reason to be ruthless and bore that reason for others to see.

“Who did this to you?” I breathed.

“The ophidians did much of it while they held me in their dungeon. Their favorite pastime was torturing us and seeing what it would take to make us scream. Some scars are from the war, and others are from my past.”

I traced another jagged scar across his heart. I couldn’t believe anyone or anything would enjoy doing this to another.

“I’m sorry you had to endure this. It never should have happened.”

He caressed my chin before lifting it so I had to look at him. “I survived. Many others didn’t.”

I blinked at him, mesmerized by his gaze and the strength of a man who had endured this and lived. His experiences had changed him, there was no denying that, but they hadn’t completely eradicated the good in him, and I sometimes glimpsed the more carefree man who had sat in our manor six years ago.

At first, I’d missed that man, but not anymore. Brutality had forged this man into someone stronger, someone who might be able to save Tempest.

So much had happened to both of us between that winter storm and today, but somehow, those events had brought us together, and while all my many lies would tear us apart, I wouldn’t change anything. I was glad I’d gotten to know him better, and no matter the outcome, I always would be.

“How did you survive this?” I asked.

When he hesitated, I could tell it was a memory he didn’t like sharing.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I assured him.

His fingers tightened on my chin before his thumb tenderly stroked it. When his gaze fell to my lips, my toes curled into the cool wood beneath my feet. I held my breath as I waited for him to kiss me again, but instead, he spoke.

“In the beginning, there were more of us in the dungeon. At the end, all I had was Tucker, a witch named Leland, the dark fae prince Brokk, and Kaylia, another witch and Brokk’s consort. We survived together.”

“Did King Leonidas also die in that dungeon?”

His fingers squeezed my chin. “No. He died while we were trying to free him from the ophidians.”

The way he said it made it clear he believed he’d failed. “You did the best you could.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“It’s not your fault King Leonidas is dead. King Ivan could have ransomed his brother; he had to have collected enough money to do so, and he didn’t. Instead, he used the money to trap us all here; his brother’s death is his fault. This is what he wanted. You never had a chance of saving the king; I bet they always planned for him to die.”

When he stepped closer, his chest brushing mine caused my breath to suck in as tingles of awareness erupted across my skin. Hunger burned in his eyes, and while I didn’t have much experience with men, I knew it was for me.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

Ellery

The air crackled with an energy I couldn’t quite place as I leaned closer to him before catching myself. I couldn’t do this; we couldn’t do this.

There were too many secrets between us, and while most of those secrets were mine, I was sure he had some too. And there weren’t just secrets between us; there was also the fact that he was the son of a duke, an aristocrat, and someone considered far above me.

Nothing good could come from this. Nothing.

He’d hate me if he ever learned I’d robbed him and then gone out with him day after day and week after week to search for a robber who was at his side the entire time. He was too proud to take that well.

He’d think I’d considered this all a joke and was laughing at him the whole time. And I couldn’t blame him if he did. I’d hate him if our roles were reversed.

Then there were the secrets I’d kept for most of my life. It wasn’t obvious at birth or in our early years what our powers would be. That came as we aged; for most, we knew what our abilities would be by the time we were ten.