Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,50
pulled his hand from hers, his fingers curling into a fist. “It was Paya who poisoned my wine. It turns out the Shades had her family—parents, sisters, and her sisters’ children. She sacrificed me to save them. I can’t blame her for that.”
“By the Flame,” Leena whispered.
“She carried out her mission as she did everything, with utmost grace and consideration. She watched and waited as I drank the wine, then she kissed me until my drugged sleep crept close. And then, with no warning at all, she cut her own throat.”
“Oh, no.” Leena’s heart seized, mired in pity and hatred.
“The deed was done,” he said, features twisting with pain. “I was sure Arlanoth—the phoenix—could never be taken from me. I was sure Paya could be trusted.”
He looked up at the night sky of the human world, the stars dulled by thousands of lights. “It turns out that I am sure of nothing and no one. I won’t be ever again.”
The words were like a door closing.
“Are you certain you won’t find another love to rebuild your hearth and home?” Leena held very still, careful not to give herself away.
He brushed her hair aside with his fingers. “I’m broken, Leena. You know that better than anyone.”
Disappointment pushed through her like a ravenous, burrowing thing. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He’d told her everything she needed to know.
17
Morran watched Leena walk away, transfixed by the sway of her spine and hips. She rolled her shoulders, shrugging off the lingering sensation of his touch. Morran released a frustrated breath.
He’d hurt her. He’d said the wrong thing. Except he’d spoken the truth, which was worth more than pretty phrases. Wasn’t it?
He leaned against the oak, grateful for its solidity. On the street, the workmen loaded up their vehicle so they could finally go home. Traffic and voices increased as the city’s confidence returned with the streetlights. If only his own case was as easy to resolve.
Oblivion had been simple. His past was not.
After such a long lapse in memory, it seemed the terrible night of betrayal had only just happened. The nightmare memories were too fresh, too raw not to be all-consuming. He’d been betrayed, but so had Paya. Poor, lovely, lost Paya. Shock froze pieces of his soul, leaving him to fumble with the aftermath.
Lady Paya of Alkamen had been the daughter of an influential lord. Their relationship had been typical of the Tymeeran nobility—a complicated web of lust and opportunism—but there had been real affection, too. He would carry the guilt of her death to his grave. She’d died because he was the Phoenix Prince.
But beneath that guilt was an unforgivable wound. She’d violated the man she’d professed to love in the one way that could not heal. When she’d offered him that cup of poison, she’d known what it would do.
The night air chilled his face. When he rubbed at his cheeks, they were wet. An odd pain twisted in his chest. He’d not had the chance to mourn until now—not for her, himself, or their broken faith.
Even now, there wasn’t the luxury of time. He swallowed hard, concentrating on what lay ahead and how to get there.
He started toward the building entrance, allowing his mind to roam. One day, he would stand on the balcony of his palace and greet his people with the news that Juradoc and his foul army were destroyed, and the south was safe again. And maybe he would say that Leena’s brother had been saved, and the Kelthian tribes could rebuild their mountain homes in peace. His bargain with Leena would be complete.
Morran’s step hitched at the idea of Leena gazing up at him from Tymeera’s courtyard, eyes shining with slavish gratitude. The image was wrong. Despite their mutual attraction, Morran formed no part of Leena’s goals, except when it came to saving her brother. Even then, she would be grateful, but never subservient.
No, he was a fellow traveler, not the destination. She’d stand beside him on that balcony, taking her own bows. Faery would not be saved by one person, not even the Phoenix Prince. Morran was broken and far less trusting, but maybe he was smarter, too.
He was almost at the hospital entrance when the orange tomcat emerged from the shadows, tail puffed. “Hey, bird boy.”
Morran stopped with a grimace. “Are felines devoid of respect?”
Mo’s ears went flat. “No time for it. I’ve been on sentry duty as commanded by my queen.”