Page 33 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
I’m just able to make out the back of Harrow’s pale blond head as he disappears into an unlit corridor.
I reach the same exit. There are no sentries. Did they forget to station guards at this post? Was this Harrow’s doing? I don’t stop to ponder the hows or whys. The sounds of frivolity soften behind me as I pad quietly down the darkened hallway.
“It is not often I encounter another who bears a curse.” A deep, growly voice has me whipping around. The soft glow of cerulean eyes greets me in the darkness. The golden-haired King of Montrésor steps forward. His movements are preternaturally quiet for so large a person. It reminds me of Harrow.
He cocks his head, the movement more animal-like than man. “Or is it a gift?” he muses. “They do love cryptic sonnets. I suppose all curses are a gift in their own way. Each one is meant to teach us something, by way of the cost.” The king raises a massive hand to stroke the rose on his lapel.
I swallow, my heart pounding in my ears. The flower unfurls at his touch, opening more fully. A single petals floats to the floor.
“The cost is high, is it not?” His question burrows into the hidden place in me where my darkest past resides.
Flashes of the dark-furred monster play across my mind’s eye. My voice quivers, “I don’t know what you mean.”
The king’s eyes soften. “You need not fear me, Princess. I am but a stranger with a shared soul. The both of us roam above but keep one foot in another world. I sensed the magic within you the moment I stepped foot in the castle. You speak the language of secrets. As do I.”
My stomach tenses as if clutched by a mighty fist. “And what are your intentions with my secrets?” I murmur.
He smiles, and there’s a warmth there that comforts me despite the pointed canines lending him a sinister air. “To keep them. As you are now a keeper of mine. I simply wished?—”
Tingles race down the back of my neck, alerting me to Harrow’s presence before the king’s glowing eyes even flick over my shoulder.
“You’re a long way from your rose gardens, Renard.” Harrow’s smooth words send a flood of soothing energy through my adrenaline-jacked bloodstream.
“You.” The word comes out on a growl that makes me flinch. The king’s face grows taut.
Harrow places a hand on my shoulder and my body relaxes. He is the ultimate danger, and at the same time, absolute safety. How can he command both so fully? “Be careful, Your Highness. Your beast is showing.”
The play on words reminds me of the animal in my vision. The king stiffens, paw-like fists curling at his sides. “The number of times I petitioned you, begged you for death, for release throughout my years of torment.” The king, Renard, snarls. Snarls!
He is the beast from my visions.
“I lost count. In the thousands, at least,” Harrow answers, and I can almost hear the smirk I know must be curved along the high arch of his cheek. Does this man truly believe Harrow to be Death? No matter how many times he tells me that’s who he is, I just can’t wrap my head around it.
“Renard?” a soft, feminine voice calls from the entrance to the hall.
Renard visibly softens at the sound. “Down here,ma petite fleur.”
“Ah, your rose approaches,” Harrow muses. “All those days spent wishing for me to end your cursed life. Aren’t you glad I didn’t answer your prayers?”
Renard doesn’t answer for a long moment, his loving gaze locked on the woman as she moves toward us.
Finally, he says to Harrow, “It would appear I am indebted to you for denying me such a foolish wish.”
“I may hold you to that.” Harrow’s power ebbs across the space between the two men, charging the air.
“I am in need of you, my love.” Joining us, the woman takes Renard’s outstretched hand. “Gabriel is trying to arm wrestle someViscount de Chantin. You know as well as I that anyonefoolish enough to challenge Gabriel will end up a broken—” Her words halt when she spots Harrow. I haven’t looked behind me. Is he still wearing his silver skull mask? Or can she see his pale, ethereal face?
Trepidation widens her green eyes. I understand her feelings all too well.
The king lifts a brow. “Can you see him?”
“Yes. Though I have the strange feeling I shouldn’t be able to.”
Harrow speaks again. “Renard’s magic has rubbed off on you. Orinyou. Recently, too. It’s something that only lasts temporarily in mortals. Did you enjoy your carriage ride here?” Harrow teases.
Even in this darkened hallway, the woman’s cheeks visibly redden.
Renard hooks an arm around her waist and tugs her close. “That’s enough questions. Our better half is in need of us. It’s been a pleasure, Princess.” He nods once to me, and then to Harrow. “Until we meet again.” He turns, taking the woman with him.
