Page 66 of Princess of Death

“I have no doubt Father loves us both equally, Hawk.”

“But he loves us differently.”

I wanted to defend my father, but I’d witnessed the difference firsthand. “I’m sorry you feel this way, but please don’t let it affect us. Father said how close he and his brother were, how special that relationship is. This relationship is special to me.”

The grievance in his eyes slowly softened like warm butter. “I’ve never doubted your worthiness or ability to lead our people. I’ve never questioned your qualifications because of your sex. But I believe you’re more worthy because Fatherwantedyou to be more worthy. Because he invested his time and energy into making that fact true. Far more time and energy than he did with me. I know that’s not your problem. You didn’t ask for it, but it continues to wound me.”

“You should talk to him about it, Hawk.”

“And what is he supposed to say?” he asked quietly.

All I did was stare.

“He’s just supposed to admit that it’s true? That he preferred you from birth and I never stood a chance? No, he’s not going to say that. He’s going to deny it until his dying breath, because if he admits it to me, he has to admit it to himself. And that’s not something anyone would do.”

Rendered speechless and useless, I didn’t know how to contradict my brother, not when I felt the favoritism that he spoke of. I wanted to defend my father out of loyalty, but this was a slight I couldn’t defend, not without belittling my brother’s feelings. If our positions were switched, I knew I would feel exactly the same way.

He stepped closer to me, his eyes cool ash now that his flames had been extinguished. “You’ve done nothing to earn my resentment, and I’m sorry for giving it to you. I will support yourreign with both my love and my sword. I will watch your back if you ever need another pair of eyes. And I will look upon you with pride—because you’re my sister.”

10

LILY

I stood in the kitchen and washed the tomatoes under the running water. They had flecks of dirt from their home in the garden, and I watched the debris wash away until the red skin was shiny and bright. I patted each one dry with the linen.

There was a sudden spark in the air, an energy I couldn’t describe, a hum so quiet I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it…or simply heard my imagination. “I feel you.” I spoke aloud, possibly to no one, but possibly to the man who had slowly consumed me piece by piece. I lifted my chin and looked out the window over the sink. It was dark outside, so the glass was a mirror to the room behind me.

I could see the silhouette of a muscular man leaning against the counter behind me, arms crossed over his chest, his muscles so defined they were noticeable even in the distorted reflection. “I feel your unease.”

I dried my hands on the edge of the linen that supported the tomatoes then turned around to face him. The beautiful and enigmatic man who was slowly taking my soul even though he promised not to touch it.

His ankles were crossed, and he let the cabinets and counters support his weight. He was very real, his presence so distinct I felt it without sight or sound. But to anyone else who walked in here, he was just a ghost. His dark eyes took me in with sympathy, but the rest of his expression was hard as steel.

I crossed the tile floor of the kitchen and moved into him. His arms dropped when I came close, ready to envelop me in those thick muscles and cocoon me. My hands glided over his chest to his shoulders, and his hand automatically slid into my hair while he hooked his other arm around the small of my back.

I no longer jerked when he appeared out of thin air. I was never surprised by his visit, not when I suspected he was always there, always watching me. Like he’d come home to me after a hard day in the fields or service in the army.

He cradled my cheek as he looked into my face, his eyes softening further once I was in his embrace. His callused thumb swiped over my soft skin as he held me close.

My shoulders had been heavy from my brother’s burden, but they suddenly felt lighter when Wrath was there, carrying everything for me with his immense strength. When he entered the room, everything felt warmer, the air lighter. The man who’d propositioned me into bed had become my lover, and not a kind of lover I’d had before.

Words weren’t exchanged, but he somehow comforted me in silence, giving me a look that was both tender and authoritative. The dinner I’d wanted to prepare was abandoned, and now all I wanted to eat was this hunk of man.

“Were you there?” I whispered. “When I spoke to him?”

His eyes were locked on my face. “Yes.”

“When are you not there?” He was the shadow cast by the sun in the morning, the shadow from the torches that burned in the dark. Always with me, always watching.

“When you can’t feel me.”

“But why do you watch?”

A long stare ensued, his eyes drinking mine in as he tried to find the words to form an answer. “Because you’re the only thing that brings me joy.” His thumb left my face, and his hand sank deeper into the hair at the back of my neck. “The way your hair moves in the breeze. The hardness in your eyes when you’re provoked. The way they soften when you look upon someone you love. You’re protected by the invisible armor you wear, but I notice its absence in the presence of your mother and father. I’ve come to know your life through your perspective, come to know you better than through any conversation we could have. And knowing you…settles the cracks in my heart.”

A flush of joy and pain rushed through my heart simultaneously. My feet didn’t leave the floor, but I felt myself fall forward. Fall forward into this man who wasn’t even real, who didn’t truly draw breath the way I did.

“You’re the most exceptional woman I’ve ever met, Lily Rothschild.”

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