AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A scoff burst from my mouth. “I thought fae couldn’t die.”
“Oh, we can. Just not by natural means.” She sighed and handed me a cup of water. “The crown of a fae sovereign must lie fallow for one moon cycle, then it can be taken up by the successor. That month ends soon. Rafael is out of time.”
“You still believe I will fall in love with a man who wants me dead?”
Her eyes pressed shut. “No. Of course not. We must all let that hope go, as he has.”
“He what?”
She nodded. “He wants you to live, even knowing that means he must carry his curse forever.”
I snorted, unconvinced.
“Whatever you believe,” she continued, “we must still travel to the Sun Palace for the coronation. Fabian has required it, and we cannot refuse without drawing down more curses on all our heads.” She boldly placed a hand on my shoulder. “Talia, you must convince that entire court that you hate Rafael Romero.”
Squirming under her touch, I twisted away. “Easy.”
“Good.” She gave me a firm nod. “Then the journey ahead should also be easy.” She stood and clasped her hands. “We leave tonight.”
32
Rafael
My cold hands on her bare skin startled her awake. When her eyes opened, she yelped and twisted away. I stood up, my hands never leaving her side.
“Try not to move,” I grunted.
She froze, her eyes wide and her skin flaring warmer as my palms brushed gently across her ribs. She snapped her gaze down and flinched as she saw the jagged wound under her arm.
Over a pair of riding pants, she wore a large white shirt—one of mine that I had cut up the side seam so I could better access the wound. Even Everence’s healing magic couldn’t fully mend this wound, likely because the blade already had cursed blood on it when it pierced Talia’s side. She was mine to protect, and I’d failed. I hated knowing she was in pain. I tucked the loose ends of the shirt behind her back. Her eyes narrowed, a short breath leaving her parted lips.
Trying to ignore how much this noise increased my heart rate, I tapped lightly along the wound, dabbing a green ointment into it with the softest pressure I could manage. Everence was a gifted healer, and she’d hastily crafted a poultice after we’d discovered a simple spell wasn’t sufficient to heal this wound. It was working, albeit slower than I’d hoped.
“I told you not to touch me,” she muttered, her voice still rough from the near strangling she endured.
I hadn’t gotten to her fast enough. By granting her wish to ride the fastest horse in the world, I’d put her in danger. She’d fled from me like a hare from a hungry wolf, and I couldn’t blame her one bit. And then she’d almost died because Lily couldn’t keep up. I nodded in response to her harsh words and kept dabbing the poultice into her wound.
“I don’t want you to be in pain,” I admitted, though it sounded foolish. I couldn’t possibly atone for my sins.
Talia scoffed. Words were difficult given how much of her body was openly displayed and where my hands were touching her. Carefully, I ensured the torn shirt didn’t reveal any more than was strictly necessary to treat the wound. But my mind…I had to shut off its creative tendencies. She was not mine. Not now. Not ever.
Admitting my wrongs wasn’t going to help, nor was any attempt to change her opinion of me. The only small relief came from the fact that she now knew the true extent of my wickedness. I no longer wore any masks or kept any secrets. My soul was entirely laid bare before her—and it was agonizing and freeing all at once.
My lips curled. “Now you see me as I am.” I inhaled quickly and removed my hand from her side. The wound was treated. My work was done.
With deft hands, I pulled the torn shirt back across her and let it fall over the sticky green substance. I stood straight, tilting my head to examine her. She was the loveliest thing in all the lands I’d ever visited. Even broken and sore, hoarse and angry. Her hair looked wild as it fell across the pillow, and her eyes still held a glassy sheen, and yet her beauty struck me speechless. The weakness in her flesh wasn’t something to disdain or disparage. Instead, the way she carried her life in the blood under her skin, the threat of losing it should her skin break or her organs fail, brought a vitality to her that fae lacked. She was flame and oxygen, fire and fuel. She consumed life and breathed it out with every glance and every decision.
Her hasty choice—running into the jaws of those creatures who hungered for her flesh—had nearly killed her, but in the end, she’d felled the monster with her own blade.
“You are brave, Talia Balcázar Ferrera.”
She turned her head away. The coldness of her gesture felt like a knife to the heart.
“Your blade disintegrated when it entered the monster. Cursed flesh tends to destroy any weapon that isn’t made of pure iron. Anyway, I left you one of mine as a replacement.” I inclined my head toward the sheathed dagger on the bedside table.
Her eyes widened. The jeweled hilt sparkled in the glow from the candles. I’d seen the wary way she’d looked at the magical lights in Moredo, and I’d assumed she might prefer the familiarity of candles in her own rooms. They cast a warm glow on her cheeks.
As I moved toward the door, I said, “You are now among the honored few who’ve killed a minotaur in close combat.”
