Page 128 of Revealing Fate

“What about one of your elders?” Kal asked, refusing to be deterred. “Were you close to any of them?”

Imogen. Oh, how Felíne wished her friend were here with her now.

“You’re not listening,” she said. “We. Haven’t. The. Time.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you? Am I? Both of us still breathing?”

She glared at him.

“Then there’s time.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn,” she muttered.

“At least I’m trying,” he retorted.

They’d made it back to the Stillwater Wood she recognized. Amber light once again filtered through the canopy, dappling the leafy floor. She’d have stopped to appreciate the soft greens and browns of the forest bathing in dusk’s gilded glow if she weren’t so irritated with her stalwart companion.

“Oh, I’ve been trying,” she countered. “Trying to do the right thing.”

“Right for whom?”

Did he seriously just ask her that? “Right for everyone. Yourself included. You might choose to abandon this path of vengeance and seek a slice of happiness. A wife. Children.” The thought made her ripe with envy. Felíne swallowed the ugly sensation. “Their futures depend on me, too.”

Kal shot her a bitter smile. “Don’t paint a portrait of my future family as though I wouldn’t have you in it. You’re not running into another man’s arms for my sake.” He thumbed his chest. “Selfish, remember?”

His subtle declaration momentarily stalled all brain activity. Had he even realized what he said? Felíne imagined Kal’s family portrait. Only, instead of some faceless woman standing next to him, surrounded by their children, it was her.

She slammed the door on that mental manifestation so hard her head rattled.

“You are impossible,” Felíne fumed. “Absolutely impossible.”

Kal barked a laugh, riling her further. “At least I’m not so self-sacrificing that I refuse to stand up for myself.”

She whirled on him, hands fisted.

He faced off with her, a wicked grin curling his lips. “Go ahead, Kitty girl. Put my lessons to use. Let’s see those claws.”

She almost hit him. She wanted to. But the fact that he wanted her to stilled her hand. Instead, she lifted her chin, met his darkened stare, and said, “If you want to brawl, go find a tavern. You can talk to me again when you’ve composed yourself.”

Felíne turned on her heel and continued on her way. It wasn’t the first time she’d walked off with no sense of direction, but this time she didn’t care. She was mad enough to fight a grimalkin. Besides, Kal wouldn’t leave her. She just needed some space to settle her temper.

How dare he? Did he think she hadn’t spent hours contemplating a way out of her situation? That she hadn’t exhausted every possible alternative? There wasn’t one. Felíne was no intellectual prodigy, but if there’d been a way to avoid her inevitable fate, Mender Alcuin would have devised one. Imogen would have advocated for it.

Wishing her life were different didn’t make it so. She might close her eyes and fashion a beautiful world for herself, but she couldn’t dream forever. When her eyes finally opened again—and they always did—reality would be there to slap her in the face. Even if she succeeded in breaking the curse, even if she denounced her compact with the Primordial Male after bearing his child, even if Kal wanted her despite all of that, Felíne was still a princess of Asteros. The king and queen would never allow their daughter to forsake her godchosen mate.

She stomped through the brush, her distance from Kal and his sudden reticence decidedly not helping her temper.

“So, what,” she snapped without turning, “now you want to listen to me?”

Silence.

“I tell you to stop talking, and that’s what you choose to abide?”

A grunt.

Felíne stopped. Now she was going to hit him. “You obstinate, vexatious, inconsiderate—” She spun.

And the accusations turned to ash on her tongue.