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“I killed her I killed her I killed her.” I can’t stop saying that as the nightmare I just wrenched from invades my mind. Oh, God.
For some reason, I’m not surprised to see the prince in my room. His eyes glow faintly silver, their depths impossible to read. “It’s a nightmare, Summer. Just a nightmare.”
I pull my knees to my chest as tears pour freely down my face. “I was back at the farmhouse and the children were there. It was Christmas Eve. We were all gathered around the tree when . . . I looked outside.” My voice catches. “My mom was out there. My real mom. But she was different. I knew immediately she had changed. Become one of . . . them.”
“A darkling?” he asks softly. His voice is still heavy with sleep, but there’s a gentleness to it I can’t ignore.
“Yes. She—she tried to get inside. Clawing at the doors with her fingernails. Then she called my name and . . .” I wipe at my face. “I took a knife from the kitchen, the one we use to carve meat, and I killed her. She didn't even try to stop me.”
He watches as I try to pull myself together. As I slowly force my brain to accept that it isn’t real. I didn’t kill my mother. I would never kill my mother. I may not have memories of her and I, but I know we loved each other deeply.
“I would never kill her,” I say. “Never.”
Through my wet, clumpy lashes, I search his face for disdain. For cruelty. For all the emotions I imagined he would feel if he saw weakness on my part.
But the only thing I catch inside his eyes is sorrow. A sorrow so deep it could fill an ocean.
“What time is it?” I whisper, if for no other reason than to take his intense focus off of me and my red, crumpled face.
“Nearly dawn.” He reaches for me, hesitates, then brushes his knuckles over my wet cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here and if you have another nightmare, I’ll wake you.”
I blink through bloodshot eyes at him, unsure leaving him in my room while I sleep is a good idea. He must think I’m scared of him because he retreats a few steps. “Trust that I won’t hurt you, Summer.”
“Won’t you?” I whisper.
He gets my meaning immediately. I can see that by the way his mouth tightens at the corners. He shoves a hand through his hair and takes a final step back to rest against the side of the wall.
Then he fixes me with a long, piercing stare. “Go to sleep, Summer. You’re safe with me.”
As I lay back on the pillow and close my eyes, I’m sure I’ll never fall asleep with the most powerful Fae in existence watching over me. But I do.
Not only that, but it’s the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in weeks.
44
When I wake up, the prince is gone. But there’s a note. Scrawled across the cream stationery in elegant penmanship are four words:
Be ready by dusk.
~W.P.
Okay, that’s a bit bossy. I exhale and then stare at the paper. What could he be planning?
But as much as I hate surprises, I find myself counting down the clock. I try to study but I can’t concentrate. I take a shower but end up using conditioner instead of shampoo, twice.
I spend two hours of my life I’ll never get back playing a Fae card game version of Go Fish with Ruby. Usually I catch her cheating, but this time I’m too consumed by anticipation to notice until I’ve lost all of the Twizzlers Mack sent me.
Damn.
By the time five rolls around, I’m practically coming out of my skin. The moment I feel the tugging sensation I know means the prince is close, I jump from the couch downstairs and run out the door.
He meets me on the porch, his eyes hard to read. “Grab a coat.”
It takes until we’re almost to the winter orchard where I first met the prince for me to realize where we’re going. My heart lurches. “Wait, are we going . . . ?”
I can’t finish that sentence. The words carry too much hope.
The Winter Prince smiles softly. “You can’t speak to them or get near your house. But I thought, maybe, if you could see they’re safe . . .”
