Holding my chest, I demanded, “What’s—what’s Daniel’s nickname?”
Kes smiled. “He hates it. That’s why he sticks to his true name.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I blame him, though.”
Stop stalling!
“What is it?” I croaked.
His eyes tightened, staring at my shivering frame. “Buzzard. His nickname is Buzzard.”
I couldn’t breathe.
It’s not him.
Then…
Oh, my God.
The betrayal. The unfairness.
Please, no.
I swayed on my feet as a black gust of vertigo took me prisoner. I fell forward, crashing into Kes’s arms. “And Jethro’s?” My voice was just a whisper. “What’s his nickname?”
My heart roared. I felt sick. I felt suicidal.
Kestrel held me tight, his fingers digging into the bruises his brother left last night. The brother I’d believed was falling for my games.
But all along…was I falling for his?
Alarm at my sudden change of mood widened his eyes. “Nila, it’s okay. Sit down and breathe.” He tried to gather me close, but I flinched away. Blinking back the nausea and urge to topple, I breathed, “Tell me, Kes. What’s Jethro’s nickname?”
I waited with bated breath.
I cursed my flying heart.
I overheated with terror.
My sanity hinged on the answer Kestrel gave, but it was too late.
I already knew.
Of course, I knew.
Of course, it was true.
Why did I think otherwise?
My instincts blared an answer I didn’t want to believe.
The name reverberated with every panicked breath.
Kes placed his large, warm hands—so unlike his older brother’s icy ones—on my shoulders. “Jethro? He never goes by it. Never has.”
I don’t care. Tell me!
I swallowed back my scream. Impatience roared in my blood.
Kes sensed my unravelling. He narrowed his eyes, anger flushing his skin. “It’s Kite.”
I couldn’t do it.
I collapsed, landing in his arms.
He huddled me close, pressing a kiss against my forehead. “His nickname is Kite...but I think—I think you’ve known that all along.”
I wanted to cry, but no tears came.
I wanted to rage, but no sound remained.
Him.
He’d not only stolen my body but my mind and fantasies, too.
He’d infiltrated me when I still believed in princes and fairy tales. He’d corrupted me before he’d come to steal me.
Kite.
Jethro.
Kite is Jethro.
A wail clawed up my throat.
Not only had I given my body to my mortal enemy, but I’d unlocked my heart for him, too.
He’d gotten under my skin. He’d heard my innermost desires.
He was playing me like a master of duplicity.
My ridiculous game at making him fall in love with me pulverised.
I had no chance at winning.
Not when faced with the proficient firstborn Hawk.
My salvation was now my damnation.
Jethro is Kite…
…
And he’d successfully trapped me in an aviary of deceit.