Page 83 of A Betrothal So Bloody

“Find meaning in a brutal existence,” she says gently. “Or welcome death.”

The strained thread in me severs at these words. I run, crashing to my knees next to Dante. He doesn’t react as I wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against me. He’s heavy as a cadaver.

Breathing heavily, I tip my head back. For a moment, I wonder if the fairy’s answer would change if there was a blade at her throat.

“Please,” I whisper.

Callistia looks around her, those ancient eyes sending a silent order. The wolves give a whimper and trot back into the trees. The fairies near her, still aglow with fierce magic, dim slightly as though lowering their defenses.

Her gaze then rests upon me with a strange intensity before she reaches for her hair and plucks one of the many gemstones from the long tresses. As she offers it to me, I hold out a shaking hand.

“For the nightmares,” she murmurs. “Its wearer will sleep without fear.”

The moment the gemstone touches my palm, coolness spreads over my skin. The little gem blossoms with silvery links, forming a chain and clasp. As I close my fist around the bracelet, Callistia gathers her sheer gown in her hands.

“Take a moment of reprieve in my forest, if you wish,” she says. “But I will not risk the safety of my people. Find shelter elsewhere before the sun rises, and never return to this place.”

twenty-six

Iknow there is nothing I could possibly say to make the situation any less devastating, but I’m crushed nonetheless when Dante shoves away from me and stalks into the woods with a clear aura of not wanting to be followed.

As much as I want to give chase and ensure that he doesn’t abandon me in these otherworldly woods, I don’t imagine he’s in the state of mind to go very far. He wants to be alone, and perhaps I do, too. Every second the truth sinks in and solidifies—we both had been chasing a fairytale. But as thrilled as I had been at the thought of uncovering the cure to vampirism, the sharpest pain is far more shameful. The hazy fantasies I had pictured with Dante after becoming human were dissolving before my eyes.

Silly, frivolous thoughts that never should have carried weight—and yet their absence leaves me hollow.

Even the bitter disappointment can’t keep my gnawing appetite away. After being left alone, I eat the last of my food and brace myself for a long stretch of hunger before me. But to my surprise, I turn to find a pile of fruits and berries miraculously presented upon one of the nearby flat stones. The offerings are vibrant enough to look unreal. I search the branches overhead, but the fairies do not make their presence known—continuing to tolerate us at a distance.

It’s a dim consolation prize compared to what we were seeking, but I nearly moan at the first bite of wild strawberry and wonder if I will ever again taste something so flavorful.

Once I’ve had my fill, I set off in search of Dante. Without Laelia as my guide, I question my every move—though I do end up tripping far less.

Before long, I find Dante reclining in a grove that is less extravagant than Callistia’s, but breathtaking nonetheless. The foliage and soft flowers all but beckon for a nap. The glowing lights overhead cast warmth all around, and a gentle, descending creek empties into a glittering pond.

Hesitating by a tree, I watch him quietly for a moment, knowing he must have heard me long before I spotted him. His eyes are closed, one arm folded behind his head and his long legs stretched out on the bank. When he makes no acknowledgement, I approach with soft steps and lower myself to sit beside him. My heart aches as I observe his face—the way the enchanted, glowing lights play upon his skin like sunlight.

“So,” he murmurs without opening his eyes, “what will it be? Stake through the heart? Beheading? Poisoning me with one last sup at your neck after you’ve consumed dead man’s blood?” His mouth twitches. “Now that would be a dirty trick.”

“I’m still debating,” I say dryly, fighting the inexplicable urge to pull his head into my lap. I frown at how relaxed he is—as though he either trusts I won’t take the opening to kill him, or he simply doesn’t care anymore. “Did you have any other leads? What were you really planning to do if this didn’t work out?”

“Truthfully, my original plan B was draining you dry and dumping your corpse in the nearest river.”

“Hm. Lovely.”

He cracks his eyes open and considers the pond. “That certainly looks beautiful enough for you.”

We share a wry smile.

“And plan C?” I ask, softer.

He huffs a sigh. “I’m working on it. Much as I wouldn’t mind dying with your pretty hands around my throat… If you don’t mind waiting a little longer, I’d appreciate it.”

My voice tightens around a dark chuckle, my insides aching horribly. Despite everything, the echoes of my training thud in my nerves and muscles. I can take him by surprise—right here and now. I can see it playing out clearly in my mind. A twitch toward my silver knife, a plunge into his throat deep enough severe flesh and bone alike. His final, wounded inhale as his cursed blood pours over my hands. My breath hitches, the images all too real.

Cupping his face in one hand, I tuck some unruly blond locks behind his ear, my lips trembling as I study him. His eyes cut upward to me, soulful and searching—his soul laid bare. He doesn’t catch my other hand slipping around the hilt of my left blade. It could be a kindness, letting my face be the last he sees. Let him die in comfort knowing we tried.

Concern creases his brow at my tormented expression—I can’t hide it. His fingertips graze my jaw, a soft noise of comfort escaping him. Above all, never show fear in the face of an enemy.

Everything inside me should revolt, letting him see me this way. But despite the rivers of blood on Dante’s hands, I cannot see him as an enemy any longer.