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“You need to go.”
He just watched me, his expression patient. “Is that truly what you want?”
No. “Yes.”
He chuckled, pulling me close, and I sighed, nestling into him. His masculine scent surrounded me, and I reveled in the feel of his hard body. I’d never felt safer than when I was wrapped in his arms.
Gods, I was stupid. And I was making life a lot more difficult for myself. But I couldn’t seem to help it.
We dozed off and on, and when I finally startled awake for the third time, Lorian caught my hand. “It’ll be better if you talk about it.” His mouth twisted. “I promise not to see your sharing as a craving for true intimacy.”
My cheeks heated, but he watched me, still waiting.
Hands shaking, I pushed my hair off my face. “I was dreaming about Vuena.”
My thoughts and emotions around her were so mixed up. I’d known her as my mother my entire life. But ever since she’d died, I’d begun remembering things. Horrific memories that came to me as nightmares.
Lorian nodded, waiting for me. I chewed on my lower lip.
“When I was a young girl, we went to a celebration in one of the villager’s homes. Papa and Tibris were there too, and I remember thinking how…happy everyone was. And then the assessor came and slaughtered the family who owned that house. He took their son to the city to burn. He was Tibris’s age.”
Lorian took my hand, and I drew in a shaky breath. “The last words Ovida said were accusing Mama. She said…she said, ‘You’re a seer! How could you not see this?’ I guess…I guess I’d blocked the memory out, because it came to me when I recognized the king’s assessor in Regner’s castle.”
“You think shedidknow,” Lorian said, squeezing my hand lightly.
I nodded, my chest tightening. “I think she knew, and I think she used that experience to terrify me. She insisted I watch most of it. And before they died, she said to me…” My throat closed, and I sucked in a breath.
Lorian wiped at my face. I hadn’t realized I was crying. I’d been so determined not to let Lorian see my weakness, and yet some part of me knew…I could trust him with this.
“Tell me the rest,” he murmured.
“She said, ‘Watch, Prisca. Watch closely. See what happens when a child is caught using forbidden magic.’ And then she let it happen. She let that entire family die, Lorian. Their son was so young. And she did it to teach me a lesson. To make sure I never forgot what would happen if I was caught using my power.” I raised my head, catching the pity in Lorian’s eyes. That pity would usually infuriate me. But I knew he was pitying the young girl I’d been. And I also knew him well enough to know exactly why that muscle was ticking in his jaw.
“You’re angry for me.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Sometimes I wishI’dbeen given time magic. And that I could use it to turn back time and get you out of there. I would have protected you.”
“I know.” I could never doubt Lorian’s protective instincts. I lifted our linked hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprise mingled with pleasure in his eyes.
“She could have saved them, Lorian. I’ll never understand it.”
“And you never will,” Lorian said. “You’re not like her, wildcat. We’ll probably never know why she made those choices. But…if you’d been caught as a child…if you’d burned, you never would have saved three hundred hybrids.”
“You think that’s why she did it?”
“I think she was a seer, and she was shaping forces she had no business shaping. She knew you were the heir to the hybrid kingdom. What she did was inexcusable, but I believe she justified it, because in her mind, you had to live. So you could save your people.”
* * *
Each night, when the boy woke screaming from nightmares, his brother came. Eventually, he had the boy moved in to his chambers so he could hear him screaming in the room next to his.
The king sat on his bed silently at first, clearly at a loss. And then he began reading from his favorite books. Ancient fae tomes so dry they would sometimes send the boy straight to sleep.
When that didn’t work, he told him of the great battles of fae history. This was when Conreth would come alive. Through his stories, the boy learned of tactical warfare, weapons, and the great sieges of the fae lands. He learned of magical creatures and the power his parents had once had.
And so, the boy found solace in the tales of valor and heroism that his brother recounted. The vivid stories wove themselves around the boy’s dreams, chasing away the nightmares, until occasionally, he could sleep through an entire night.
But it was the days that turned darker. Panic would clutch at his chest, and the boy would scratch at his throat, unable to take a full breath. The world would turn quiet and still, except for the screaming in his head. The screams that never ended.
