The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,121
looks up at Damon. “Please,” she begs, still on her knees. “Just let us die.”
“No,” he growls.
Grabbing my hand, he drags me over to his parents, keeping me close as he helps them up.
“We’ve lived well,” Silas argues, unsteady on his feet as he stands. “And now we’re ready for our lives to end.”
“This is for the best,” I tell them. “Go.”
“She’s right,” Damon backs me up. “Leave.”
“Son—”
“As your king, I command you.”
Tehya sucks in a sharp gasp, but neither says another word. Seeming to accept the only option we’ve given them, they step forward and engulf us in their arms.
I was just hugged by my own parents last week. Then I lost them, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel this again. Silas and Tehya are basically strangers to me, but somehow, they’re already like family.
Like home.
“I always wanted a daughter,” Tehya says, her voice wobbling as she squeezes me. “I finally got you, and now you want to leave.”
Although I have no intention of going away forever, I can’t give her any reassurance with the coven so close. So I stay silent as I step away.
Slowly turning toward each other, Silas and Tehya clasp hands as they let out their wings. Stiffly flexing them a few times, they stretch the appendages that haven’t been used in years. The burns on Silas’s bare back must’ve seeped through the skin because his wings, identical to Damon’s leathery gray, have charred red patches on them.
With locked eyes, the former king and queen give each other a look so filled with love I actually feel it as if it’s a palpable thing. My heart swells as Tehya sends her mate a tremulous smile. Silas bumps his forehead against hers.
Then, without looking back, they take off. Their flight is shaky, but they make it above the trees. It isn’t until they’ve disappeared that I turn to Damon and throw my arms around him.
I wonder if our love will ever be so strong that it affects those around us.
Maybe it already is.
However, the witches seem immune to sappy emotions.
“Let’s go,” Merina barks.
“Can I have a private moment?” I request through gritted teeth. “Please?”
“Fine. Fifteen seconds.”
Taking Damon’s hand, I pull him several feet away. As I rise on my tiptoes, I act like I’m going for a kiss, but I bypass his lips and put my mouth by his ear.
Discreetly toying with the whistle resting on his sternum, I whisper, “If you ever miss me, just use this. Maybe I’ll hear it and know you still love me.”
“Time’s up.” Before I have a chance to say anything else, I’m being dragged away.
“Wait.” I didn’t even get to kiss him one last time.
My plea gets ignored.
Four witches have their hands on me as I’m forced toward the forest, like they’re afraid I might disappear into thin air. Their fingers dig into the skin on my wrists and arms. Not enough to break the skin, but the pressure is a warning.
A statement.
I belong to them now.
Every bit of distance I put between Damon and me hurts. It feels wrong, but I can’t look back. If I do, I won’t be able to keep walking. There’s no way I have the strength to see Damon’s broken expression one more time and keep my resolve.
So I hold my chin high and put one foot in front of the other. As I gaze up at the sky, the formation of geese fly overhead. My signal to Astrid.
All of a sudden, we stop just inside the forest and Merina demands, “Hand over any weapons.”
I hesitate. “I only have a dagger. It’s good protection from Day Realm men.”
“You don’t need it when you have us.”
Shit.
“Don’t dawdle.” One of the witches pokes me in the back.
I suck in a snarky retort as I lift my dress. Before I can remove the weapon, someone else does. “Hey.”
“You have to earn our trust before we let you have sharp objects.”
“What, no welcoming party?” I ask, heavy on the sarcasm. “Just a quick frisk and probation?”
When they start patting my other leg, I hold my breath. They’re getting dangerously close to the pocket of my dress where the syringe is. I think they’re going to miss it when one of them makes a noise of triumph.
“What’s this?” Her fingers dance along the plastic packaging as she assesses the object.
“It’s mine,” I reply, panicked. “It’s not a weapon. Give it back.”
The jerk slips it into her robe.
“Move.” That’s all Merina says as we continue our trek.