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His head moved the tiniest bit, though he grimaced as he did so. His scruff had deepened to a light beard, and he wore plain white clothes that looked almost like scrubs. He watched me, those vast eyes taking me in, and I swallowed at what I saw there.
And I realized why Dagda told tragic love stories. They were stories about loving despite loss, through betrayal, and danger. Loving while you can.
Stories about loving fiercely.
And I didn’t need him to speak. I didn’t need to feel his emotions through the oncemate bond to realize—Dagda was far from hating me.
A burning started in my throat. “I told them to keep you comfortable. Are you in pain?”
He chuckled. “After everything that has happened, the healers would not dare risk your wrath. They are quite in awe, and dare I say, are a little afraid of you.”
A faint smile pulled at my lips, but faded as I fisted my hands in my skirts. “I thought I would be the last person you wanted to see.”
His eyes grew wide, and he struggled to raise his hand.
I took a breath. “You don’t have to—”
But Dagda was determined. With effort, he settled it over mine, warm and accepting. “Chels, you saved me. You saved this kingdom. You saved the Otherworld.”
“I’m not a hero. I knew that I‘d fail in that bog, before I even understood what it meant, before I even met you. That I… I left. I went back to the human realm, abandoning you and the Otherworld to my sisters.”
His brows drew together. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
I stared at his hand on mine. “I thought if you discovered there was no way out—that the choice was to let my sisters loose, or let them consume me, that you’d… you’d make me fall.”
“You believed I would jump to that?”
“At first I did, but then…” Right when I was about to second guess myself, Ornan happened and he had stripped the choice from me.
“Then what?”
“My sisters threatened me. Threatened to kill me and I… I wanted to live… I wanted to go home…” I lifted my gaze to his even while heat rose into my face from the shame. “So you see, I’m not what you think. I’ve never been what you think. I’m selfish and a coward and—”
His fingers curled around mine and he gave a gentle squeeze. “And you came back.” His grip relaxed, and he looked exhausted by that simple effort. “How did you get through the portal?”
“I made a deal with the Chimera.” Dagda’s lips pulled into a frown and I hurried on. “It’s not like Lugh’s. He made me promise never to return to the human world or else I’d turn to dust.”
“Chels,” he murmured, and something flickered between us—a spark of warmth and tenderness. “Whydid you return?”
I bit my lip. Then said, “I want to tell you a story.”
“Tell me,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “There was a fair maiden.”
“Very fair,” Dagda murmured.
A brief smile slid across my lips. “This maiden found she could influence people, to make them love her, admire her.” Only now was I realizing that it might have been the beginning of my affinity emerging without me knowing it. “Which was fortunate because there were high expectations placed on the maiden. To be perfect, to be popular, to be smart, to excel in all areas of life, just like her siblings before her. Unfortunately, the maiden found that she wasn’t good at doing those things. But she could fake it. And so she did for many years, using her influence to make it appear like she was smart and accomplished—sometimes using that ability to influence in ways that took advantage of others so that she could remain the best, remain on top.”
I gripped Dagda’s hand tighter. It was a lifeline. “It didn’t take long for the veneer of her perfect life to be stripped away and for her family and friends to see her for what she really was. A selfish coward who used her influence to hurt others.
And then, one day, the prince came and arrogantly demanded that she return with him to his castle.”
Offense flashed through Dagda’s eyes and his mouth opened, but I interrupted.
“I’m telling this story.”
His mouth snapped shut.
