The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,106

need. Medicine or—”

“It won’t do any good. I can’t survive without my wings, Whitley.”

“Yes, you can,” I hiss down at her, refusing to accept this. “Life is still worth living. You can’t just give up.”

I can’t bear the thought of this beautiful being no longer existing, and I’m desperate to say or do anything to keep her alive.

“Maisel.” Swallowing hard, I try to talk around the rising lump in my esophagus. “What if—what if we gave you a room at the palace? Even better, we could build you your own house with stardust stones.”

Her lashes flutter as she gives me a weak smile. “What would this house look like?”

“Well, everything would be scaled to your size, but it wouldn’t be small. It’d have at least ten bedrooms, so you could have visitors anytime you wanted.”

“How about a tower instead?”

“Sure.” I nod. “A tall one. A cylinder with a spiral staircase going all the way up to the top floor.”

“And a slide going in the opposite direction so I could fly down?”

“Perfect. And you’d be welcome in the palace anytime. We could put a zipline from one of the windows for easy travel home.”

“Would there be jewels?”

“As many as you want.”

“We’d eat lunch together every day,” she adds wistfully. “Do you think you could slay a boar for me?”

I snicker. “Well, I probably can’t, but I’m sure someone could.”

Maisel hums. “I do love bacon.”

“And when we go on trips, you could come with us. You’ll be with me always.” My voice breaks on the last word as hope and anguish battle it out in my heart.

“What a beautiful dream,” Maisel sighs. “I do wish it could be real.”

“Why can’t it?”

“I’ll tell you.” Her serious face stares back at me as she holds out her pinky.

Blinking back tears, I touch my finger to hers. “Pinky promise. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Without our wings, our bodies become toxic,” she explains softly. “There’s nothing you can do to prevent my death, but the fact that you want to means more to me than the moons and the stars and the suns combined. You’re a true friend.”

Maisel had told me she was going to die. Twice. And I didn’t listen. I thought she was kidding.

She wasn’t, and now I’m helpless once again.

“But your adventure.” My throat starts to clog up, but I manage to choke out, “You didn’t get to have it.”

“Oh, Whitley. Don’t you see? My adventure was you.”

As I gaze down at her big beautiful eyes, the grief I’ve been bottling up begins to seep out.

Ever since waking up on that dining table in the throne room, I’ve tried to take everything in stride. I’ve kept my eye on the prize, always moving forward, because as long as I stay focused on the end goal, I have hope that everything will turn out okay.

I’ve handled this epic shitstorm like a boss.

But.

There’s been too much loss. Too many sacrifices.

I don’t know why the death of this little creature is the Domino that knocks down my carefully placed sanity, but a mini breakdown ensues.

Overwhelming tightness takes up residence in my chest, and I start to hyperventilate.

“Baby.” Damon rubs my arm, rests his forehead against my hair, and kisses the nape of my neck.

It’s a kiss of comfort. One of apology.

At least my grief is shared. Damon might not be as attached to Maisel as I am, but he’s shouldering this experience with me. I feel some of my sadness shift to him, as if he’s physically taking my pain onto himself.

My love for him grows a little stronger. Even if he doesn’t want me as a mate, we’re stuck with each other and, as long as he’s alive, I’ll never be alone.

Maisel struggles to pull herself up. Giving her a helping hand, I wrap my fingers around her torso, being mindful of the wounds on her back. When I get her out of the sling, I cup my palm, giving her a place to sit so she can observe our surroundings.

“There.” She points at the dense forest. “The community isn’t far.”

“Okay.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to stop the onslaught of tears as Damon blows his new whistle.

The gift from Zander. It’s flashy and gorgeous. And surprising, too. The Day king doesn’t strike me as the type to give presents.

Slowly, we all come to a halt. The constant clopping of the horses’ hooves taper off, and the squeaky wheel on one of the wagons stops.

“You and Damon may come with me,” Maisel

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