There is a familiar boyish grin on his face despite the blood pouring from his chest where a throwing star is lodged deep within.
He falls to his knees, eyes glossy as they bore into mine.
This time I hear the scream rip from my throat as I lunge for him, cradle him, beg him to live.
Footsteps echo off the walls, and I look up to see dozens of bodies surrounding me. All bloody and begging. All victims of mine.
They stare at me, hatred burning in their gazes as they look upon the man who killed them.
I know each of their faces. Each of their wounds that I inflicted.
They circle me. Vultures anticipating a death.
Then I hear a sound I know all too well.
The sickening crunch of metal slicing through bone, of tendons tearing apart, of muscles morphing around a blade.
She slumps to the ground—dagger in heart, lips in a smile.
I’m screaming.
I’m lifting her into my arms, I’m brushing her bloody hair back, I’m saying something, but I don’t know what.
My mind is numb. My heart is numb.
Everything is numb.
She’s smiling in death, as though happy to be rid of life.
Happy to be rid of me.
I am grief. I am sorrow.
I am anguish alike.
I think I might also be dead.
Just decaying on the inside.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Paedyn
Screams. I’ve never heard agony in such a raw form.
I had just climbed into bed after making it back from Loot only to throw off the covers and jump to my feet. I’m stumbling through the dark room, tripping over my discarded boots lying carelessly on the floor.
When my fingers finally wrap around the cool handle of my door, I wrench it open and step out into the shadowed hallway.
A cry echoes, and I still at the sound.
It’s him.
I don’t know how I know since I’ve never heard the future Enforcer cry out before, but something tugs me in the direction of his room. My feet are moving of their own accord, guiding me closer to him with every step.
I halt before his door, dragging my insistent feet to a stop.
What am I doing?
I can’t just walk into his room. Right?
Wrong.
This is a bad idea.
Yes, but this is a bad idea I want to do.
Another anguished cry tears from his throat and I don’t hesitate before throwing open the door. Darkness engulfs me as I once again stumble through a room, eyes straining to see, hands outstretched to guide.
The outline of a bed comes into view, along with the outline of the body atop it. I make my way to him, blinking as my eyes finally adjust to the lack of light, only to roam over his exposed chest, heaving and slicked with sweat.
His head is thrown back against a pillow, strands of inky hair sticking to his forehead. He’s heaving shaky, shallow breaths, every inch of him taut. I can’t even begin to imagine what is haunting his sleep, what is stealing his rest and leaving him so ragged. What nightmare is so terrible that even the prince cannot defend himself?
His lips are moving with murmured words I can’t understand, and now I’m truly worried.
I’m worried about him.
I let the thought sink in for a moment before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and nearly gasping at the heat of his skin. He’s burning up.
“Kai,” I say softly, not wanting to startle him.
Nothing.
“Kai.” I speak his name louder this time, shaking his shoulder to try and shake him from his nightmare.
He cries out again, and I nearly do the same. Now I’m panting, panicking, pleading with him to wake up so we can go back to bantering instead of begging him to open his eyes.
I climb onto his bed, swinging a leg over his body so he’s pressed between my thighs as I lay both hands on his slick chest. “Kai!” I’m shaking him, hard, willing him to wake.
“Kai!” I’m annoyed that I care so much. Annoyed that I care whether he is hurting or not. Annoyed that I can’t bear to see him like this—
And then those gray eyes snap open.
Strong hands are suddenly gripping my waist and throwing me off him. My back is pressed against the mattress as he pins me down, hands crushing my arms, his body crushing mine.
And then something cold is pressed against my throat.
I’d know the feel of a dagger anywhere, so I don’t bother looking down at the one he is now pushing against my neck. I’m breathing heavily, keeping my eyes locked on his wild ones and my voice soft. “Kai, it’s me.”
His strength is shocking, and I don’t think I could wiggle out from under him even if I tried. He’s panting just as hard as I am, practically paralyzed above me. “Kai. It was just a nightmare.” I keep my voice calm while ignoring my thundering heart that says I’m anything but. “Kai, it’s me. Paedyn.”
He blinks. And then he blinks again, over and over as if clearing his head. As if seeing me for the first time. Cool air coats my neck as he pulls the dagger away, his eyes never straying from mine.
“It’s me. Pae.” My voice trembles, barely more than a whisper now. “Kai?” Then my voice cracks and something seems to crack inside him as well.
He takes a shuddering breath, looking at what he’s done. Releasing my arm from his startling grip, he slides the dagger back under his pillow while trying to calm his breathing. His cool mask has cracked, crumbled in his panic, and I can see every emotion as it flits across his face.
I’ve never seen him so disheveled, so disoriented, so disgusted with himself.
His eyes are haunted, filled with horrors as they wander around the room, refusing to meet my gaze. I can tell he is about to get off me without a word, and I refuse to let that happen. Refuse to forget this moment when the prince was merely a boy.
Those ghostly, gray eyes flutter shut at the feel of my hand on his cheek. I cup his face, timidly, tenderly, as I silently marvel at the feel of him against my palm. His jaw is set, and a muscle feathers in it as I slide my thumb across his cheek.
He ducks his head, eyes still squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to meet mine. “Look at me.” My command is both soft and stern, sure and shaky.
My other hand is on his face now, helping to guide it back up to meet my gaze. He takes a deep, trembling breath before opening his eyes, the steeliness of them as startling as they are stunning.
“Don’t hide from me,” I breathe, suddenly unable to catch my breath with the way he is looking at me. “Not anymore.”
I want to stare into his face, the one without the mask that I have glimpsed so many times before. I watch as his eyes roam over me, over my body still pressed beneath his, over my hair messily spread across his pillow.
Almost as though he is committing me to memory.
I swallow under his gaze, which only manages to drop his eyes to my neck where I can feel a flush rising. No, not just a flush. My neck stings. Suddenly remembering that my hands are still on his face, I slowly drop them to bring my fingers to my neck.
His swift hand catches my wrist before running his fingers gently over my throat. I barely suppress a shudder at his touch, at the feel of his callouses brushing my flushed skin.
“Look at what I’ve done.” His voice is rough, still riddled with the remnants of sleep and raw with the cries that ripped from his throat. He pulls back his fingers, now smudged with sticky blood.