Page 62 of His Dark Delights
“Ah, so glad I found you. How awkward would it have been if I’d knocked on the Butcher’s window?” The humor in his tone almost cracked a giggle from me.
“Well, one window down and you would have found him. But he likes fairies in his bed, so maybe you would have been welcomed,” I quipped back. The easy repertoire between us almost bewildered me.
“Hm, can’t say I entirely hate the idea.” Lunaric winked, and that finally knocked a laugh out of me.
Gods, it felt good to laugh.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
His brow quirked up. “We had a deal, didn’t we? I’m here to take you back to the fae wild. I always honor my deals, brave girl. And after what I witnessed today, you belong among your people.”
“Oh, I don’t… I don’t know.” I clutched my hands to my chest and faltered back.
Lunaric held his hand out, beckoning me nearer. I swallowed down my apprehension, daydreaming of fae and what I could become if my essence was unlocked. In the world of fairy, there would be no Butcher to confuse my heart.
A rustle of fabric behind my back went unnoticed. I took another step closer to the window, closer to another world… another life. Lunaric smiled, charming and dazzling, and drawing me in. His hand was a magnet, and I was reaching out.
“Come now. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, flower nymph,” he teased.
“No, I just—”
“Flower nymph?” The booming voice of the Fairy Butcher snapped through me, shattering my heart into a thousand glass shards beneath my feet.
Whipping around, I found the face of a man falling apart. I didn’t have a moment to spare for his feelings, nor mine, or the growing chasm between us.
Why was the world stretching between us? Why was the icy wind whipping at my hair and snapping at my skin? Where had the light gone? Where was Ren?
Lunaric’s hand had curled over my wrist before I’d noticed he’d leaned forward. Without warning, acting on instinct, he snatched me off my feet and propelled us out the window.
“Lilly!” Ren shouted, voice strained with ragged wanting and agony.
A scream curled up through my stomach, belted from my lips, and vanished into the wind as I fell from the tower.
No, not falling—flying.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ren
The air inside the palace breathed a peculiar staccato, exhales mingled with the lingering aura of resentment and the barest, faintest spark of optimism. Each step toward my room thumped in time with my beating heart, an echoing reminder of the weight on my shoulders. I pushed open the heavy door, peering into the darkness and cringing at the creaking hinges striking a contrast against the obliterating silence.
The fairy prince, the symbol of everything I had fought against, was free, and the woman I loved—a woman I had trusted with my life—was the architect of his escape. My gaze drifted toward the wall separating me from Lilliana. I whispered her name under my breath, tasting the bittersweet flavor of it. As furious as I was, I needed to confront her, to face the tsunami ofemotions swelling within me.
I needed to speak to her—to understand.
I stepped toward the hidden door in the wall, inflating my lungs with a bolstering breath. What would I say? How could I articulate the whirlwind of pain and betrayal without losing sight of my greater purpose?
The closer I got to her door, the more I hesitated. The fear of what she might say gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Council meetings, Cecily’s opinions, the weight of the crown—none of it mattered as much as her.
I recalled the moments we had shared. Laughter drifting through the meadow, whispered secrets under the stars, a bond that felt unbreakable. Yet there I was, ready to confront the very person who had cut through that bond with a breakfast knife.
But she was mine. Lilliana was mine.
Reconciliation would take time, but perhaps a path forward existed for us. The excitement of the day must have affected Lilly’s judgment, tangling in the web of her hatred for the war. We could find our way back to one another. We had to.
My hand curled around the doorknob, and a voice—no, voices—stopped me. Muffled yet distinct through the thick wall of the door. Seething red-hot emotions clawed at my insides, sparked by suspicion and dread. I swept through the door and dipped under the tapestry to catch the conversation.
“—don’t tell me you’re backing out now, flower nymph,” an obviously male voice said, his words jamming a knife in my chest.
