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* * *
The illusion starts off small.
Just me standing on a hilltop. Wind whips at my hair and pulls at my dress, but it’s warm. I turn my face up to the sky and smile.
“You’re so beautiful.”
I turn toward the masculine voice, pleased to see Rafferty standing just behind me. Wearing dark trousers and an open button-down black shirt, he looks more like a man from my world than a powerful fae.
“You are.” The words come out, and I nearly weep with joy at the ability to speak. As tears stream down my face, I run toward him, and he holds out his arms. I jump into them, so fucking happy to feel the pressure of his body pressed against mine. “What is happening? Where are we?”
“Your mind,” he tells me. “Fae who have mastered this particular magic can push into your thoughts and make you see whatever they choose.”
Darkness washes over the joy of the moment as I recall just what Ailis forced me to see while I was held captive. “Ailis knew how to use this magic,” I tell him.
His expression contorts, and he sinks to his knees. “It was I who taught her.”
I kneel in front of him and wrap my arms around him. “It was not your fault, Rafferty. None of it was.”
“I should have protected you.”
“You tried. Ailis—she knew you would run out, and she was waiting for the moment you did.”
“Had I never upset you the day you went into those woods, you never would have met her.”
“Rafferty.” I pull back and cup the sides of his face with both hands. “She was watching me. Her only plan was to get back at you.”
His gorgeous eyes—completely gold here in my mind—flutter closed, and he breathes deeply. “She hurt you. Tell me what she did to you.”
“No.”
“Ember—”
“I will not give you that to live with.” Leaning in, I press my lips to his. “But I do need to tell you something. Something I hope will help.” Pulling back once more, I take a seat on the grass and cross my legs in front of me.
Rafferty stays on his knees as I fidget with the grass below us.
“Ailis told me that when she realized she wanted you, she began dosing you with a tonic.” His brows draw together, but he doesn’t speak, so I continue. “It made you believe she was your mate when, in reality, she was not.”
His body begins to vibrate with anger, and he closes his eyes and presses both palms to the grass. He takes steady, deep, calculated breaths in an attempt to calm himself, and I wait, not wanting to say anything else in case it’s what sets him off.
So we sit with the sun shining, the birds chirping, and wait.
“She lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Entrapped me,” he growls.
“Yes,” I repeat.
But then, he tips his face up and meets my gaze. “Then I was right.”
“You suspected she had—”
He shakes his head. “I was right about you being my true mate.” Reaching out, he cups my cheek, and the tears I’ve been fighting to hold in break free. “You were made for me, Ember of Austin.”
“I’m dying, Rafferty. And even if they do manage to get here in time, I can’t speak. Not anymore. She ruined me.”
