Page 11 of Kiss the Filthiest King

I don't know how or why. I haven't cried in years, let alone like this. Messily. Loud.

"No.No. Cease that this instant. This isnotappropriate."

I'm terrified and there are three bodies around my home including the man I was going to marry and my window is broken and it's raining.

"Take me to mysister!" I manage between sobs.

"All right. I will. I vow it."

I look up, though my eyes are so full of tears and hair, all I can see is a blurry mess.

I push back the strands of hair, wiping my face with the back of my cardigan sleeve."You will?"

"I'm one of the folk. I cannot lie."

I know that to be true, because I've long suspected Darina couldn't. Oh, she's good at finding ways around the truth, but she never outright says any lie.

"It's just going to be tricky right now." He winces. "See, the thing is, she's a little dead."

What?

"Only a little," he assures me, panic at the edge of his voice, as my eyes widen.

I think he's afraid I'll cry again.

"She should be undead in a moment or two, if all goes well."

"Undead, like a vampire or a zombie undead?"

"A vampire or a what?"He tilts his head. "Regardless, neither. She should be entirely not dead, by all accounts. I can give you moments to pack what you strictly need. But no more than a moment. You were found by the seeker's guild already, which means there's a bounty on your head. And more will come, soon."

A bounty on my head? What the hell happened to the universe?

My sister happened, that's what. My sister, who'sa little dead.

I push down whatever anger and frustration I can feel gathering under the surface, forcing myself to ignore the bodies—one, in particular—as I walk around the house, gathering my things in a daze. I'm not sure what to take. My ID. Cards. Clothes, maybe. I only grab a few panties and tops. Spotting my phone on the kitchen counter, I suddenly think of Rain.

I fucking hate Rain, but that doesn't change the fact that she loves my sister.

Dammit.

I shoot her a quick text.

Me: Rina's in trouble.

I can't bring myself to type dead.

Me: Fucking fairies showed up. I have to go with one of them. I don't know when I'll be back. But I'll find her.

I can feel a headache forming at the back of my eyes.

I'll find my sister.

And then I'll murder her myself for leaving without news, before dragging her ass back home.

Why do I have to be the sensible one all the time?

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