my eyes shut, but I could not escape the memories, the accusing eyes, boring into me. The screams and wails, the stench of burning wood, the blood and terror and sorrow and death; I remembered it all as if it was yesterday.
“No more,” I whispered, my face still turned to the wall, feeling wetness against my skin. My teeth were clenched so hard my jaw ached. “No more. I can’t…remember…the things I’ve done. I don’t want to remember.”
“You will.” The Guardian’s voice was calm, ruthless. “Everything.
Every soul you destroyed, every life you took. You will remember, knight. We have only just begun.”
It went on forever.
Each time, I was there, watching the scenes play before me as the heartless Unseelie prince, cold, violent and uncaring. I hunted more humans through the forest, tasting their fear as I ran them down. I slaughtered at the queen’s whim, whether it was a single creature that earned her wrath, a family for her entertainment or an entire village to set an example. I competed with my brothers for Mab’s favor, playing my own vicious, courtly games that often ended in betrayal and blood.
I seduced even more human females and broke their hearts, leaving them empty and hollow, writhing in their loss.
Each time I lived these atrocities, I felt nothing. And each time, the Guardian would pull me out, for just a moment, and the horror of what I’d done would threaten to crush me. Crime after crime stacked upon one another, weighing me down, adding new memories and shame to 283/387
the nightmares of my life. Each time, I wanted to curl up and die with my guilt, but the Guardian gave me only a moment’s ref lection before hurling me into the next massacre.
Finally, after what seemed like years, centuries, it was over. I lay on the f loor gasping, my arms around my head, bracing myself for the next horror. Only this time, nothing happened. I heard the Guardian speaking above me, its voice distant and matter-of-fact: “The final trial begins at dawn.” Then it vanished, leaving me alone.
My thoughts, now my own again, reached out tentatively, probing the silence. And in the sudden calm, every single memory, the crimes of my past, every nightmare and horror and depravity committed by the Unseelie prince, all rose up and descended on me with screams and cries and anguished howls, and I found myself screaming, too.
Puck and Ariel a burst through the door, weapons drawn, scanning the room for attackers. Seeing me, kneeling on the f loor, my face wet and tormented, their expressions went blank with shock. “Ash?” Ariel a whispered, walking toward me. “What happened? What’s wrong?” I lurched away from her. She couldn’t know—neither of them could ever know—the horrors I’d committed, the blood staining my hands. I couldn’t face their shock and contempt and disgust when they found out who I really was.
“Ash?”
“Get back,” I rasped at her, and her eyes widened. “Stay away from me.
Both of you. Just…leave me alone.” Ariel a stared at me…and for a moment, I saw Brynna’s face when I’d told her everything was all a game. It was more than I could bear.
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Ignoring their calls, I rushed past them, escaping into the halls of the castle.
Faces followed me down the corridors, their cold, accusing eyes boring into me, crowding my mind.
“Ash,” Brynna whispered, hugging herself in an alcove, watching me pass, “you said you loved me.”
“My sisters,” the nymph said, appearing from around a corner, glaring at me with burning black eyes. “My family. You killed them all. Every single one.”
“Demon,” whispered the old farmer, his eyes glazed over with tears, pointing at me with a trembling hand. “You took my child away. All I had left, and you took him from me. Monster.” I’m sorry, I called to them, but of course they wouldn’t hear. They were long dead, their grief and hate unresolved, and nothing I said or did could make any of it right.
I could hear Puck and Ariel a’s voices down the hall, calling my name, searching for me. I didn’t deserve their concern. I didn’t deserve to know them, two bright spots in a life of darkness and blood and death.
I’d destroyed everything I touched, even those I loved. I would end up destroying them, too.
“Murderer,” Rowan whispered, appearing from a doorway, and I shied away from him, nearly blinded by tears and not watching where I was going.
The f loor suddenly gave way beneath me. I fell down a long f light of steps, the world spinning madly, until I landed with a gasp at the bottom, pain stabbing through my arm and side.
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Gritting my teeth, I struggled upright, pressing a hand to my bruised shoulder, and looked around. It was dark here, shadows choking everything, the only light coming from a dying candle in the mouth of a stone gargoyle. Beside the leering creature stood a massive stone door, like the entrance to a crypt, standing partially open. Cold, dry air wafted from the crack beneath it.