Page 25 of Death Comes for Her
“Two hundred years, I think.” He dismissively waved a hand. “Time gets muddled when you live so long.” Then his eyes cut to me. “I’m sure it’s the same for fair folk.”
“I’m not old enough to have lost track of time. Not yet.” Maybe never if my bad luck continued.
Dante considered my words, stroking his fingers through his short beard. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“You’ve stopped aging,” he stated for a fact. Something flickered in his eyes. “What did you know of the Monarchs?”
A freezing wave coursed through me from head to toe. Goosebumps flared over my limbs, and I fought to rein in the tremble under my skin. A lump formed in my throat, and when I swallowed it down, it settled in the pit of my stomach.
“Not much.”
His eyes darkened, narrowing at me. My heart skipped a beat at the force of his suspicion.
“You were old enough to have lived under their reign,” he countered.
“Too young to understand anything with a war going on. Surviving was my top priority.”
His jaw flexed, and something sinister sparked in his eyes.
“Did you ever see them, Sierra? The Monarchs? They were the rulers of the fair folk, your leaders.” Dante sauntered to the side of the room, bringing a set of closed red drapes into focus.
“No, never,” I lied.
His hand swiped over the velvet fabric almost reverently. Then he grabbed a golden rope beside the drapes. He turned sideways, glancing at me with something malicious dancing in the hazel depths.
“I was there in the palace on the Everdark Morning. Simon and I led our forces in and took the kingdom from the fair folk while Sanctus performed the spell that removed the sun from the sky.” He tugged the rope, and the crimson drapes swept open at an agonizing pace. “I kept these as a trophy.”
The jagged pieces of my heart shattered apart, fragile and thin like broken glass. The pain of it ruptured through me, lacerating my insides with burning agony.
Glowing with everlasting magic, six golden wings pinned inside a glass case illuminated my face. The three sets were perfectly lined up, towering high above my head on the wall. Their inner light dimly radiated like sunlight even after a decade. Like a butterfly kept in a shadowbox, the wings I’d known almost as well as my own glared down at me like a beacon of gold and death.
Mother.
My stomach swooped and lurched with the need to spill its contents. The backs of my eyes burned and pricked, and I strangled a choking noise as I leashed back my emotions.
Dante watched my reaction like a hawk, as if searching for something. Then he turned his face to the radiance on the wall, beaming with sadistic pride at his trophy.
I smoothed my expression, begging my eyes to hold the tears brimming under the surface. Don’t let him see you react. Don’t let him see it affect you.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” He preened like a peacock showing off vibrant plumage. “These belonged to the queen of the fair folk.” Dante left me frozen in place as he returned to the desk. My eyes were glued to the wings on the wall as he tugged open the top drawer. “Only Monarchs have six wings, you see. We took her husbands too, but those are mounted in the palace for Sanctus.”
Another sharp pain twisted through my stomach. I held my breath to halt the turbulent storm rising within me. A maelstrom of thoughts and feelings slashed me apart from the inside, but I refused to let the agony leak to the surface.
Dante’s predatory footsteps echoed in my ears. When his presence washed over my spine, I closed my eyes. Something thin and cold trailed over the back of my neck, lifting my hair over my shoulder. Golden tresses spilled over my breasts and a large palm pushed my shoulders forward.
Ripping fabric sounded in my ears, and cool air kissed my suddenly exposed back. The dangerous tip of chilled metal traced down the ridges of my spine. Bent forward, I had to cross my arms over my chest to hold up the loosened material of my dress. A stubborn tear escaped the corner of my eye, trailed down my nose and dripped onto the carpet beneath my feet.
The hand between my shoulder blades smoothed up to the back of my neck, curling up to fist in the base of my hair. Dante jerked my head back. Pain splayed across my scalp from the force. Something erratic in my belly dipped in response to the cruel show of control.
He shoved something inches from my face. Gleaming silver with dots of gold dust filled my vision. I trailed my eyes along theslightly curved length of the magically forged blade, all the way to the gold handle inlaid with iridescent pearls.
A memory flashed behind my eyes like a strike of lightning through my brain. Phantom pains dug into my back as my body recalled exactly what that weapon was capable of. Nausea rolled through my stomach, bile burned the back of my throat, and I swallowed it all down, refusing to show him anything.
“This dagger belonged to the fair folk royal family, the Monarchs. King Erridim Lorevain had this on his person when we stormed the throne room.” Dante’s scalding breath brushed the side of my throat and his fingers tightened in my hair. “Do you know what I found odd, though?”
An unbidden whimper slipped free. I clenched my jaw to trap the next one.
