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“The magic within you disagrees.”
“Consider it mine, then. You can’t kill your brothers, and I won’t. So there’s no way for me to be free of it, therefore it belongs to me.”
“Why won’t you kill them?” he countered.
Because they weren’t mine to kill, honestly. They were Akari and Vena’s.
I couldn’t say that, though.
So instead, I drawled, “Life is sacred, remember? Death lands you on the sunny island that’ll slowly drain you of life by disconnecting you from your magic permanently.”
The king made a noncommittal noise. “I haven’t ever sent anyone there. Seems unnecessarily cruel.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Then what do you do with someone who ends the life of another?”
“Congratulate them or kill them myself, usually. In my experience, the only motivators for that kind of violence are self-defense or emotionless cruelty. In the case of self-defense, I make sure the killer has a safe home to live in, and that all other threats toward them have been destroyed. In the case of emotionless cruelty, I give the bastard a quick, painless death to protect the rest of my people.”
“And what if you can’t tell which it is?” I countered.
“Then my people dig until we’ve figured it out.”
That didn’t sound unreasonable to me. Not in the slightest.
“The scars on your wrists,” the king said.
I didn’t look at them, and didn’t say anything about them either.
“Jesh told me what you said to him. That you were stolen by those who wanted to take my magic.”
Of course he had.
Damn me for trusting him.
“He won’t tell anyone else, but he and Lavee are the closest thing I have to family at this point. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” He paused. “Or at least, they don’t keep secrets from me. My situation is… unique.”
Still, I didn’t say anything.
Jesh had broken my trust; he wouldn’t get a second chance.
There were a few silent moments, and I finished my bread and cheese before easing myself to my feet. There was fancy clothing in the bag off in front of me, but I had no desire to flaunt the king’s magic, or his attention.
Plus, white clothing made me slightly uncomfortable. The only time I’d seen anyone wear white in the first two decades of my life was when I was being tortured—and then, their clothes were always spotted with my blood. I’d been forced to get used to seeing people in white quickly after leaving the prison, but that didn’t mean I wanted to wear the color.
“You’re skin and bones. I saw the outline of your ribs—I’ve never seen that before.”
“Glad to know you’re comparing me to all of the other women you’ve bedded,” I drawled, slipping past him and heading toward the small tent.
He chuckled, following me but remaining outside when I zipped myself into the small, comfortable space. It was warmer than the outside air, too, which was nice.
“I haven’t bedded a woman before, Diora. As anyone in my portion of the court could tell you, I’ve been waiting for fate to speak to me.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
It was a half-truth. I suspected I knew what it meant, but wasn’t about to say it out loud.
“All fae have fated mates, most just aren’t willing to find them, or wait for them. They pair up with someone they feel no soul-connection with, to avoid the possibility of being hurt. Unlike them, I seek the female that fate designates as mine.”
“And how does a person know when they’ve found the one fate designates for them?” I slid into my undergarment while I spoke.
