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“I am. I’m trying,” he blurted, wringing his hands together in front of him.
“What is wrong?” The stress of seeing him like this added a new level of unease. I placed my hands on either side of his arms and gently nudged him around the tree to hide him from view. Even upset, I couldn’t bear the idea of anyone else seeing how fragile he was right now.
“Ryker,” he sighed, “you know that I’ve seen you in my dreams before.”
I dipped my chin in agreement.
“Of course, because you know I see things. What I haven't told you is to what extent. Please don’t get freaked out when I say this.” He brought both fists up to his chest, clutching them tightly. “I started seeing you when I was barely a teenager. I saw your birth before it even happened. I saw you playing with your family as a child. I saw your parents get sick and die. I didn’t know what it meant to me, why I saw it until I saw us. I’ve seen everything we could ever become. I’ve seen us happy. I’ve seen you happy. And I’m not saying all of this to change your mind or convince you of anything, I just want you to understand why my feelings are so strong. I care about you. I want to grow old with you. I want to kiss every inch of your skin. I love you…and it’s okay if you don’t love me back yet.”
Words flowed out of him in a steady stream of confession. It took a moment for any of it to register while I tried to decipher their meaning.
“And,” he continued, his blue eyes large and fearful as he watched me take it all in, “I’m scared for you. I can’t lose you. I’ve messed up so many things in my life, and I so badly don’t want to mess this thing up. So very badly. That’s why I want you to be with me. That’s why I insist on you being safe.”
“Okay.” I nodded, blinking slowly.
He’s seen me. He’s seen all of me, even before he ever knew me.
To him, I was known, perhaps in a way that even my own sister didn’t know me. My past, my present, and my future all tangled with his.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for my aggression and my drunkenness and all of the stupidity that is me when I’m overwhelmed by even the smallest thing. You make me better. You’ve already made me better. I want to be better, even if it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done.” Dace took a deep breath in. His gaze roamed my features.
Tentatively, he raised a hand and cupped my cheek. His thumb traced my mouth, my lips falling open in surprise. “Please say something.”
What was there to say? He knew everything about me, my whole life actually. Was I just supposed to trust him that everything was going to work out between us? It felt right, but logic told me to be wary. Life wasn’t that easy and it wasn’t that simple.
What else could he know?
“Is there more?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip and lean into his hand. “Just get it all out.”
His lip quivered as his face shifted away from my attention. An ache bloomed in my chest again and my heart cracked a little more. I’d never seen a Fae man of his age, much less status, look so broken.
“I had a dream. The first dream I’ve had in a long time that didn’t have anything to do with you.”
Oh mother, no. I swear if this is where he tells me that he dreamed of a happily ever after with someone else, I’m going to throw up all over his very expensive boots.
“I dreamed of a witch. A Burgundy Witch, like the kids' stories, the ones who have been extinct for years, attacked my castle.”
Like what Shavarra told me. Like what Daethian’s symptoms reminded her of. My pulse quickened at the thought.
“In the dream, I slit her throat because it was the right thing to do. Witches are dangerous. Then when it actually came to fruition—”
“Wait, this hashappened?” I interjected.
“Yes.”
“Did you kill her?” My voice was hoarse. I was scared for either outcome. Her death would bring about safety, but lessen the chances of us fixing Daethian. Her life could prove valuable for my closest friend, but could also endanger us all.
“No, and that was my mistake.” His chest heaved. “I wanted to keep her to help you,” he said weakly, I could see the increasing bend of his knees, as if Dace was melting into himself. With as much care as I could summon, I steadied him by his elbows and together we lowered ourselves to our knees in the grass.
“I wanted to see if she could tell us about Daethian. If she could fix your friend.”
“But something went wrong?” I asked, my gut dreading the turn this conversation was taking.
Dace’s eyes were red and swollen. “She killed my parents. Ryker, she killed them and it’s all my fault for letting her live.” His arms fell forward, propping his upper body up, as his palms rested against his knees. His shoulders hunched forward, his face fell to the ground, and his disheveled hair landed over his brow. His body shook.
