Page 116 of A Thief Among Fae

“He gave himself up when my squadron was captured. They tortured him day and night. There was no end for five days, and I was forced to watch. My prince was beaten like a dog because of me.” Her eyes are wide and haunted.

Oh gods, that’s what the raised scars on his back are from. I’ve heard rumors of whips coated in paint made from milled iron—whips meant to stop fae from healing.

“Then what happened?” I press, my breaths growing shallow as humidity from her storm stifles me, as dread from her story churns in my gut. Everyone has refused to tell me anything about Desmond’s role in the war, besides how many lives he’s claimed. I never thought I’d hear the truth from Auri, but I have to know. I want to know.

“Auri!” Desmond yells over the storm, but she throws her hand out in warning, sparks coiling against her palm.

“When they thought they’d broken him and gathered around him in mockery, he slaughtered them all, far quicker than I would’ve liked. They deserved to suffer. They should’ve had to beg for mercy.” Her voice cracks, and she yells, “How do you think I felt when I discovered he’d bound himself to you, when your people assaulted him within a breath of his life?”

Lightning blasts the mountain ridge, rock raining down.

I feel for that bond between Desmond and me, desperately pulling on it. If her storm keeps raging, a landslide will kill us all. Another strike fills the air with static right behind me, and I know I’m alone. It’s just Auri and me. I have to make this right.

I shout over the thunder, “I didn’t know! I want the war to end. I want your people to be freed!”

Auri falters, the anger slipping from her gaze only for a moment. “You lie as easy as you breathe.”

“You may never believe me, and I can’t make you. You don’t deserve what happened to you. But if Desmond blamed you, why would he still trust you?”

She stares at me like she’s never seen me before.

A narrow streak of sunlight escapes through the darkened clouds. The thunder fades.

“You good, Auri?” Finnian calls out.

“I’m fine,” she curtly says.

The others walk toward us. Desmond surveys me from head to toe, unrestrained concern washing over me from the soul bond. “You’re hurt.”

Pain twists Auri’s face as she looks from me to Desmond. A lone tear shimmers as it rolls down her cheek. Her lips fall open in unvoiced regret, but she doesn’t say a word.

Desmond leans me against him and ensures my footing is steady. Then he whistles.

Enbarr’s whinny echoes down the pass, and then she gallops around the corner into view. Miraculously, our carriage is intact, and Enbarr stops beside it.

“Slowly,” Desmond says, leading me toward it. I want to argue that I can walk on my own, but I’m feverish. He opens the door and helps me sit on the step. Then he startles us by slamming his fist against the carriage.

His glare is a mercurial storm searing into me, then Auri. “It turns out we don’t have to worry about surviving Olin’s tomb because you can’t survive even five minutes with each other. Fix it.”

My mouth suddenly feels too dry to swallow. Auri’s nostrils flare, but she bows her head. Finnian winces, and Min stands still as stone.

“And Cyn?” Desmond adds, all concern from the bond churning into a cold, tempestuous anger. “Even Enbarr can’t outrun a lindwyrm while pulling a carriage. If we had held our ground when the wyrm first appeared, we might not have lost Aether.”

The way Finnian wilts at the mention of his horse is punishment enough. I wince. “Understood.”

“All of you, get in the carriage,” he orders. “The closest village is still a few hours away.”

“I’m the only one who hasn’t taken a turn riding yet,” I argue.

His frown darkens. “You are in no condition to ride. Don’t make me lock you in that carriage.”

Finnian whistles. “Maybe keep it inside the bedroom, Dez. The rest of us don’t need to know your kinks.”

Desmond’s eyes widen, embarrassment as clear on his face as it is through our bond. Then he mounts Enbarr and shakes his head, avoiding my gaze. “Just get inside.”

Then the four of us crowd into the carriage, Auri beside me, Finnian and Min across from us. We fit, but knees knock, and shoulders bump as Desmond prompts Enbarr into a steady pace.

“It’s my fault we lost your horse, Finnian,” I murmur. Again, I find myself wishing I could outright apologize to him.