Page 89 of Revealing Fate

Not where his thoughts had been, but accurate nonetheless. He nodded.

She reached forward, fingers tentative, and touched his hand. He opened it, and she slipped inside, the soft skin of her palm sliding over his calluses. “I don’t know if I have hate in me,” she admitted. “I hate what my parents have done. I hate that they stole your childhood, your family. I hate that they’ve allowed my people to suffer in my name. But I can’t hate them. I don’t know how.” Her golden green gaze caressed him. “Even if you took them from me, even if you became the monster you fear yourself to be, I couldn’t hate you. I could never hate you, Kal. I⁠—”

He lifted her hand. Kissed her palm. “That’s alright,” he said. “I have hate enough for the both of us.”

Chapter 33

FEAR AND TRUST

ICOULD NEVER HATE YOU, Kal. I love you too much.

The rest of what Felíne had been about to say was cut short by Kal kissing her palm. And thank the gods. She wasn’t ready to say those words out loud. Nothing good would come of them. Only pain. Only bitterness. She didn’t want her first confession of love to result in hurt. So she wrapped them up, those tender words, and tucked them into a corner of her heart. There, they would remain hidden—unheard, unseen, yet felt with every beat.

They continued to train in the glen near Kal’s house, a steady quiet having settled between them. Felíne felt her muscles strain with each new exercise, micro tears aching the fibers. Her whole body hurt. She was too tired to ask all the questions that ceaselessly swam in her mind. But just because she didn’t ask, didn’t mean she didn’t crave the answers.

Why did her parents kill Kal’s family? What was so threatening that they felt it necessary to end them? Kal told her it was power, greed, and ego. He said her father couldn’t stand the thought of another ruling family refusing to submit to the Asterosian Crown. That the king and queen resented Brightsea’s refusal to accept the Faithful Cursed religion. Perhaps. But something told her it was more than that.

What happened next? They both knew the Conclave of Meress would come for them. Kal was a mighty warrior, one who commanded respect, but he was still only one man. Beulah had given her warning. Eventually, they would come to exact their punishment.

Felíne couldn’t help but feel like she was spending time she didn’t have waiting for things to happen. Her entire childhood had been spent waiting. Preparing, yes, but waiting. Since escaping the rigors of her schedule as the Prima, Felíne realized how much she loathed it. She needed to do something. Move toward some goal. As fervently as she wished she could spend eternity in this quiet wood with Kal watching over her, it was an empty appeal. People depended on her. She didn’t have the luxury of leisure. Imogen needed her. The Fates needed her. Divine, the whole race needed her. And she needed answers.

Felíne dragged her arm back, steadied its trembling with a slow breath, and jerked it forward. The axe flew, spinning through the air and embedding itself in the far edge of the target.

“Better.”

Kal watched as she retrieved the third axe, wrenching it out of the wood. Her shoulder screamed.

She met his gaze on the way back to her throwing spot. “What?”

His dark eyes were steady on her face, but she felt them like inky rivulets rolling lazily across her skin. “You’re changing.”

“What, no more weak little pampered princess?”

Kal didn’t smile, but his eyes laughed. “Oh, you’ve been pampered alright. There’s no changing that.” Then he sobered. “But you were never weak, Kitty. That’s just something you told yourself because they allowed you to think it. You have more power, more potential than you give yourself credit for. It’s time you realized it.”

Felíne swallowed, throat suddenly thick. He didn’t say the rest. He didn’t have to. Those obsidian orbs, shot through with a startle of shining gold, spoke the words his mouth did not.

And I will be here to help you, whether you’ll have me or not.

“Kal,” she whispered.

Movement and a colorful curse fractured the moment.

Felíne pivoted at the same time Kal flipped a knife into his palm. He threw his other arm in front of her.

A huge red and silver horse broke from between the trees and galloped into the clearing. Nostrils flaring, head aloft, Sig skidded to a stop mere paces away, cleaving gouges in the grass that rivaled the ones Felíne’s axe had left. She smiled and reached around Kal for the dangling lead. Kal jerked her back just as Sig’s front hoof lashed out viciously.

The stallion spun and danced away to the far side of the meadow, tossing his proud head side to side, tail swishing.

“What happened to him?” she asked, concerned. This wasn’t the same creature that had dutifully carried them through days of rugged terrain, braving desert monsoons, treacherous gulches, and wooded forest.

“Nothing,” Kal said, snorting. His disregard surprised her. “He’s throwing a tantrum.”

“That’s a tantrum? He nearly cleaved me in two!”

“If that horse wanted to harm you, he’d have tried harder than that. Stallions are proud, irascible creatures. Sig’s better behaved than most. I left him in a strange stable and haven’t checked in. He’s having his fit.”

Felíne watched the noble beast pretend to ignore them in the taller grass of the meadow. It appeared that violent outbursts were a common hazard among intact males. The cleaved section of wood came readily to mind.