The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,104
can’t do that. Please, please don’t.”
“I can and I will,” Zander says, unfazed by Whitley’s begging.
For once, I’m glad he’s a hard ass.
Letting my wings out, I adjust my hold on Whitley. “Get ready for flight, baby. Put your arms around my neck.”
Refusing, she wiggles and yells over my shoulder, “There’s a kid inside!”
All the action halts.
As I slowly turn around, embarrassment is added to the pile of shitty emotions I’m experiencing. If it wasn’t obvious before that Whitley’s keeping something very important from me, it is now. Because I’m just as shocked as everyone else.
“A child?” Zander steps closer, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “They’re forcing children to work the distilleries?”
“No, he’s being held prisoner, along with at least two others. They’re in the back room.” Whitley makes an exasperated sound. “You mean to tell me you don’t even search these places before you bomb them?”
“Anyone associated with the distilleries deserves the fate they get.”
“Not if they’re being held against their will.”
Zander’s mask of indifference slips as he sputters, “Wha—Yes. Well. That’s a circumstance I haven’t encountered yet. What use would they have for hostages? More bodies mean more movement inside an already crowded place. More movement equals greater risk of accidents.”
“Ransom?” Thayne suggests, gently setting the launcher on the ground. “Maybe they’ve gotten wind of our methods and they’re wanting to negotiate.”
“You haven’t heard,” Whitley says quietly, looking from Thayne to the Day Realm king.
“Heard what?” Zander sounds as baffled as I feel.
“Yes, baby.” My voice is calm, even though I’m the opposite on the inside. “Do tell.”
“You’ll find out.” Her vagueness only adds fuel to the fire of my rage. “Let me go back in before you do.”
Zander tilts his head as if he’s considering it. I won’t have it.
“Absolutely not.” I start walking away.
“I have to.” More wiggling.
“Why?”
“I forgot something.”
“Don’t worry about the cloak. I’ll get you another.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Stopping, I connect my eyes with hers. “Tell me what you need so badly, and I’ll let you go. And don’t lie again. As it is, you’re already going to be sick from your dishonesty earlier.”
She says nothing.
So fucking stubborn.
Tears fall, revealing streaks of clean skin on her dirt-covered cheeks. My heart is in danger of melting, so I look to the sky while I refuse her.
“I don’t put my foot down with you often, but right now my answer is no.”
Before I can flap my wings, Whitley says, “We have to go through the forest.”
“Why?”
“To get Maisel.” Her voice is full of sadness and defeat. “Can you at least do that for me?”
I’m not even going to ask why she took the sprite with her—she probably wouldn’t answer me anyway.
I hate this rift between us. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be with mates, especially right after bonding. We share a soul now. We should be as close as two people could ever be, but it’s as if there’s an endless sea keeping us apart.
Gritting my teeth, I hold in all the things I want to say as I stomp toward the trail.
Whitley
I failed.
The flask got left behind in the distillery, and I wasn’t allowed to stick around to see Zander’s reaction to the experiments. From how surprised he was to learn there were captives inside, I think it’s safe to say he had no idea. I want to assume he let them go, but I can’t be sure of anything when it comes to him. I’m particularly worried about the little boy. The other two—they might’ve been thieves. There’s no way for me to know what they did to get themselves into that predicament. But a kid? Even if he was stealing, the punishment shouldn’t be the same for him.
As I look down at Damon’s hands white knuckling the reins, I feel an enormous amount of shame.
That unwavering trust he had in me was fractured yesterday. I flat-out lied to him, and I’ve been getting a slight version of the silent treatment ever since. Lots of one-word answers.
It makes my heart hurt.
I’m probably not what he expected in a mate. He waited thousands of years to find me, and I hate that I’m a disappointment.
Gazing ahead at our caravan, I note how quiet everyone is. The overall mood is dismal. Spirits are low and energy is drained.
Even Astrid seems despondent. Although she accepted my lack of success with grace, I can tell she’s worried. I’m worried, too.
I think back on the hushed conversation we had when I returned to camp.