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Scathanna’s taunting came back to me amid one of those gentle kisses, and I stiffened.
“What?” he asked, cracking his eye open at me again.
“Scathanna cornered me,” I said, trying to decide what to say, and how. “She warned me you would dispose of me, when you got what you wanted.”
“Did she?” Carnon asked, sounding gloriously unconcerned. “And did you tell her to go fu—”
“She told me to ask you about Keaira,” I blurted, cutting his profanity short. He opened both eyes this time, studying me warily. “She told me you loved her. And that you murdered her.”
Carnon swallowed, his throat bobbing. Horrible realization hit me that she had spoken the truth.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Carnon said, gripping me tighter as if afraid I would run.
That was what had happened the last time I forced the truth from him. I had bound him to this bed, and fled from his truth, and I could see the panic clawing up his throat. I felt his heartbeat thrashing between us, almost as if it were in my own chest rather than his.
“Tell me,” I said, putting a hand on his chest to still that violent tattoo. “I won’t run.”
Carnon blew out a breath of relief or frustration or anger, it was hard to tell. “Some days I’d like to smash Scathanna like one of her damned spiders,” he said, loosening his grip on me a little as he turned to lie on his back. He pulled me with him, and I dropped my head into the crook of his shoulder to listen.
“Keaira was a demon from the Court of Shadows,” Carnon said, his voice a low rumble under my cheek. “And I thought I loved her. I had already ended things with Scathanna by then, a stupid drunken mistake, I assure you,” he added, noting my grimace, “and I was wary of any of the females in that court. But I was young and naive. Barely grown into my power. And Keaira seemed…sad. Lonely. And I took pity on her. She had also lost her parents, and we…” he trailed off, as if the memory pained him.
“Anyway, I was convinced I was in love. That the Pull was drawing me to her.” He paused and I waited for him to continue, holding my breath and fighting the surge of jealousy that Carnon had been with someone else. Had loved someone else.
“And then one night, she attacked me.” Carnon shifted, pulling up his shirt to reveal the tanned, tattooed skin of his chest. There, right where Scathanna had said it would be, was a scar, about three inches long below his ribs.
“She got a good blow in. Did some serious damage. It took all of my strength to stop her from finishing me off, to ask her why.” Carnon shook his head, and my heart broke for him. For the betrayal. “She told me she had been hired to kill me. To get close to me and end me. She wouldn’t tell me who hired her, and Bloodberry had no effect.”
I frowned. “How is that possible?” I asked. “I thought Bloodberry was effective in high enough doses.”
“It is,” Carnon agreed. “But someone had used blood magic on her. Twisted her mind. And removed her memory of them.”
Tyr’s indolent grin and red hair flashed in my mind’s eye, and I growled. Carnon squeezed me gently. “It was not the first, nor will it be the last attempt on my life, Red,” he said. He sounded so resigned, it killed me a little inside. “Anyway, the whole thing would have ended differently if I hadn’t panicked. My shout alerted Scathanna’s guards, and they arrested her. She tried Keaira and sentenced her to death for the attempt, and neither she nor Alaunus would consider my request for mercy.”
“You asked for mercy?” I asked, bewildered as to why he would wish to spare his would-be assassin.
Carnon shrugged. “I loved her. Even if it had been a lie. Scathanna gave me a choice—end her myself, or feed her to Scathanna’s hounds.”
“Mercy,” I repeated, looking up at his haggard face.
He nodded tiredly. “I had seen those hounds tear someone to pieces over the course of hours. Hours, Red. I couldn’t watch her die like that. So I took her life myself, to spare her from that fate.” He grimaced, pain rippling across his expression. “She cried and begged until the moment the light left her eyes.”
I was silent for a moment, too horrified by the story to know what to say.
“I would never hurt you, Elara,” Carnon added, looking down at me through lowered lashes. “Unless death were certain, and I could spare you unfathomable pain. I know you’d do the same.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek.
He sighed wistfully. “It was. If I had waited to act on my feelings until I was sure. If I had never bedded Scathanna. So many ifs could have saved Keaira. And I live in constant fear that I’ll lose you the same way.”
“You won’t,” I said. “For starters, I’m no assassin.”
“I know you’re not,” Carnon said. “But you can see why Herne was wary of you at first. He was livid that I put myself in danger, and I think he saw you as a possible repetition of that…mistake.”
“You said you thought you loved her,” I said, sitting up a little so I was looking down at him. I didn’t ask the question, but he knew what I wanted to know.
He gave me a tired, sad smile. “I had no idea what love was, Elara. Not until you.”
I nodded, that ball of warmth in my chest feeling suddenly tight and hot as the necklace thrummed against me. Carnon chuckled.
