Court of Winter (Fae of Snow & Ice, #1)(66)

How had my life descended into this? Not for the first time this week, I realized that I needed to put a stop to whatever strange bond was growing between the prince and me.

I resisted the urge to pick at my fingernails. “Don’t you have other things you should be doing?”

“I have a million other things I should be doing.”

“Then why not tend to them?”

He eyed me, his expression impossible to decipher. “Next week you’ll start training with your new tutor and be done with me, although I’ll still have to mistphase you to the fields when you’re not training with her, but I won’t be staying at your side indefinitely. So rest easy, Lara.”

I started at the sound of my nickname. To hear that name roll off his lips was so intimate, somehow. And I didn’t like the shiver it provoked.

I studied the squareness of his jaw and the cleft on his chin, then forced myself to focus on the task at hand. “What happens if I fail? What happens if all of us begin to starve?”

“I think you already know the answer to that. Nothing good comes from an entire continent of fae going hungry.”

He was right. Obviously. Images of burning cities, pillaging, crime, unrest, and violence swirled through my thoughts. It would be a nightmare.

I fingered the dirt again. If our entire continent truly was going to starve, maybe it was best that my parents and brother were no longer here. Nobody wanted to suffer. It was bad enough that I’d have to watch Cailis starve if it came to that.

“Sometimes I forget that you killed my family. Maybe it’s a blessing that they won’t have to see what’s to come if I fail.” I rubbed more soil between my fingers. “I still have dreams about them and their final moments.”

“I know.”

My head whipped up. “You do?”

“You had a nightmare when we were in High Liss. You were calling for them in your sleep.”

My lips parted as that night came crashing back to me. I recalled a nightmare that I’d experienced in that lodge, but the details were fuzzy. One thing surged to the center of my thoughts, though. I’d awoken the next morning in his bed. I still remembered that very clearly.

“Did you carry me from the floor to the bed in High Liss?”

“I did.”

My heart fluttered more. “Because of my nightmare?”

“Yes.”

I sat back on my haunches, my mind reeling. Breaths coming faster, I shook my head in disbelief. “So I didn’t stumble there on my own? But when? When did you move me into the bed? Right before you left that morning?”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head so slightly it was barely perceptible.

My heart beat harder. “During the middle of the night?”

“During your nightmare, you were thrashing and screaming, begging me not to kill them. I came to you and put you beside me in the bed. I tried to soothe you until you calmed. You were quite distraught, but you never woke. Eventually, you settled back into a deep sleep. I didn’t have the heart to return you to the floor.” He leaned back more on the ground as his giant wings splayed behind him while I processed that kind yet shockingly intimate gesture. “Do you want to talk about your family?”

“What? No,” I replied too quickly. “That would be . . . weird.”

He abruptly reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The second he made contact with my skin, my entire being buzzed with energy.

“I don’t take what I do lightly.” His comment was said so quietly, so genuinely, as though he actually meant it.

Tears threatened to fill my eyes. So much had happened this week. Too much, and now we were talking about my family. I didn’t know how much more I could take, but I forced the tears back. “Do you regret killing them?”

“I regret a lot of things.”

“But what about my family? My parents. My brother. Do you regret killing them?” I stared at him pleadingly.

“Yes.” His eyes bore into me, the startling blueness of them like millions of twinkling stars. “I’m sorry for every life I’ve taken that wasn’t from a vile murderer or pedophile, and I regret what taking your parents and brother from their lives did to them, you, and your sister.”

More tears filled my eyes. “You do?”

He nodded.

My breath stuttered out of me. Never, not once, in the past season had I ever thought I’d get an apology from him, much less an apology that seemed sincere.

A flash of something coated my insides. Relief, maybe. Or, perhaps even the beginning of forgiveness. But it was all twisted up, all jumbled together as I struggled to keep the tears from falling. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew for the first time in a full season, the constant anger I felt over their deaths lessened.

Before I could process anything further, he stood. “Come. I can see that everything is wearing on you. This week has been difficult, so I propose we take a break.”

Holding his hand out, he reached for me.

Dirt still lined my fingers, but he didn’t seem to care when I slipped my hand into his.

With a tug, he lifted me to my feet. My heart hammered again as his snowy cedar scent hit me while I waited in front of him, only inches from his chest.

He smiled and tucked another stray lock of hair behind my ear.

I couldn’t breathe. He stood so close, and his look was so . . .