Mother crouched next to me with a mocking smile.
I was lower than an animal.
I was less than an object.
I was already dead.
The flames stopped, but I kept convulsing.
“Do you think she learned her lesson?” Mother asked loudly as she looked around the room at the guards.
No one moved.
“What do you think?” Her voice was laced with steel.
A familiar earth fae named Roy stepped forward. He was an older man and one of Mother’s favorite guards. “She has not learned her lesson, Your Excellence.” His dyed green beard quivered as he sneered in my direction.
Of course, because my life was an endless march of suffering, Roy had hated me since birth and used every opportunity to get me in trouble. I’d never done anything to him.
A monster screamed inside my head.
It wanted Roy’s blood.
Since Mother’s back was turned to me, I forced my trembling lips into a condescending smile and mouthed, “You’re a pathetic waste of space.”
His expression turned murderous.
I used to never do anything to him. Now, I taunted him every chance I could.
What was he going to do, tattle and have Mother torture me?
Too late.
“She’s a petulant brat,” Roy spat. “Make her pay until she learns how to be obedient.”
I smiled at him with my teeth and mouthed, “You’re a pathetic bitch.”
He grabbed the hilt of his sword.
Mother nodded, then whirled around, and I lowered my gaze respectfully—hooded eyes, blank expression, subservient posture.
Roy exuded smug satisfaction as Mother snapped her fingers.
I kept my eyes locked on his as the world writhed in shades of hellacious blue. I let him see his death in my gaze as my back arched and palms slapped against the marble.
For hours, there was nothing but the pain.
A door slammed shut.
Consciousness wrenched me violently out of the nightmare. I was in a bunk bed.
The wood above my head was covered in a thin sheet of cobalt.
Sweat poured down my face and froze as it dripped onto my neck. I shivered violently.
Nine, eighteen, twenty-seven, thirty-six, forty-five, fifty-four, sixty-three, seventy-two, eighty-one, ninety, ninety-nine. Counting by my favorite odd number didn’t help.
Sparkling lavender morning light filled the room.
Ten years later and the fae palace still felt like yesterday.
I was too old to be this young.
The barrack door opened, and someone entered from the outside. The steps came toward me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Malum’s voice had an odd tilt to it.
I sat up.
Bronze features were tight with rage, and scarlet flames danced off his shoulders to a violent beat. Silver eyes were hard as steel, and his jaw ticked like he was holding himself from saying something.
“T-Talk—” My teeth chattered, and I took a second to compose myself. “Talk about what?”
His knuckles cracked as he fisted his hands, and the dagger glinted on his neck as he swallowed thickly.
He took a step back from my bed.
I waited.
He remained silent and furious.
“Talk about what?” I repeated.
His face contorted with malice. “Talk about whatever has you freaking out right now. I don’t know.” He crossed his arms. “You tell me. Did you have a bad dream?”
“No, I actually had a pleasant dream,” I said sarcastically. “It was super beautiful. Lots of sunshine and rainbows.”
“You have nothing you want to tell me?” he asked slowly.
“Nope.” I popped the p and studied my black nails.
Scarlet flames traveled up his shoulders and engulfed his head.
Why is he so angry? He couldn’t know about my dream.
“Tell me what you dreamed of right now, Arabella!” he exploded, and I jumped at his sudden aggressiveness.
“Uh,” I said. “I already told you. I dreamed of nothing.”
“No.” His voice was dangerous like whiskey, broken glass, and freshly spilled blood. “You lied and said you had a fucking good dream. So tell me the truth.”
“I’m not lying,” I lied.
“You are clearly lying, tell me the truth!” Malum barked out.
A headache throbbed in my left temple.
This was bizarre behavior, even for him.
“What have I said about yelling in the morning?” Vegar snarled as he sat up on his bunk.
“I’m not yelling!” Malum shouted back.
I peered around uneasily. Orion and Scorpius were missing. I peered over the edge of my bed and looked up. The twins were also gone.
They’d all left and hadn’t thought to tell me where they were going.
My stomach twisted, and my heart sank.
Ice crackled between my fingers, and my hands turned cobalt blue like I was wearing gloves.
“Tell me the truth.” He bent over so we were eye level with each other.
I deadpanned, “I already did.”
“I know you’re lying.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes.” Flames trailed out of the corners of his eyes. “I do.”
Creepy.
I pointed at him. “You have a little fire on your face.”
He made a harsh noise and scarlet engulfed his head completely.
“There he is.” I sighed as I inched closer to the warmth. It felt divine.
Flames shot from his mouth as he yelled, “You’re the most infuriating woman!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be wooing me?” I asked with genuine confusion. “If you keep this up, you’re going to be single forever.”
“I’m not single.” Fire shot toward the ceiling. “I HAVE A MATE, AND SHE IS IN FRONT OF ME, LYING HER ASS OFF!”
His face was flushed with passion, and he heaved like he’d been running.
I blinked. “That was a lot. Simmer down.”
He took a deep breath.
Silver eyes glowed as the flames receded from his head.
“Caring for you is killing me,” he said. Without warning he grabbed the back of my neck and slammed our mouths together.
It wasn’t a nice kiss.
It was brutal.
Vicious.
“Imagine how hating you feels,” I said against his lips as we fought each other with kisses.
Malum wrapped his mammoth hand around my throat and slammed me down against my bed. His grip was tight. He towered over me like a vengeful creature from a foreign realm. Like a devil.
He was disturbingly handsome.
Pain streaked down my spine.
As he held me pinned, he said, “You’re the most infuriating, insolent Revered in all of history. You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Good,” I rasped out as I struggled to breathe.
His grip loosened, and he stroked his thumbs across my sensitive skin tenderly as I regulated my breathing.
“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly, pink staining his cheeks like he was embarrassed that he’d lost control.
“Peachy,” I said sarcastically.
“Want me to kiss it better?” he quipped, and I smacked him with my pillow. He laughed darkly and sauntered away.
I flopped backward onto my bed, put my pillow over my face, and tried to smother myself.
The skin on my throat burned with heat.
The worst part.
I wanted more.
Chapter 40
Aran
WARPED SOULS
Adust (adjective): burnt or scorched.
DAY 28, HOUR 14