Page 6 of The King is Dead
He deserved so much better than the cesspit I planned to hand him soon.
And yet, in this first moment we were truly alone—and after he’d been pacing here, worried and afraid for me, no doubt straining to hear anything he could in case it spelled danger for me—the first words from my mouth were,not now.
I winced as soon as they tripped off my tongue.
I tried to imagine how I’d feel if I believed the man I loved had been raped, abused, and was now drawing away from me because of what he’d been through. I would be frantic with heartbreak, fear, and rage.
God, he didn’t deserve this.
I had wanted to tell him from the start. I hadneededto tell him. Then, when he showed up in the Nephilim war camp, because he had deserved to know. But I couldn’t, becauseMelekhadn’t even known.
Turo was such a servant, the moment he heard Melek was our King, no matter how much he might despise it, he would be the first to bow and call the Kingdom to stand witness.
No. Turocouldn’tknow. Not until I was certain Melek would accept the crown.
But that also meant he couldn’t know why I shied from his touch or avoided being alone with him. And I hated that. Hated seeing the veil pull over his eyes to cover his hurt.
Hated knowing what images he conjured in his mind to explain my detachment.
Hatedknowing that in his mind, he was blaming Melek—not me. He believed Melek to be the violent pig that Gault had been.
As Turo’s eyes shuttered and he drew himself to attention, I sighed.
“I’m sorry, Turo. I didn’t mean to—”
“You are entirely within your rights to choose when and how you speak, Yilan. I only worry that he will harm you.”
“I know you do. But please believe me… he will not.”
Turo’s expression went flat then, his eyes dimmed as he stared at me. “I think you do not understand men,” he said darkly.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head, defeated by the circumstances, by a desire tonot lie,and yet, just as it had been with Melek, I knew the omission was a horrific offense. I shook with frustration. I had left the literal cage in the Nephilim camp, only to return home to an invisible prison just as tightly restraining me.
No matter which way I turned, people I cared about would get hurt. It wasinevitable.No matter which way I turned, people were walking to war. People would die. It could not be avoided.
And no matter whether I spoke, or stayed silent, the truth would break hearts. Unequivocally.
I sucked in a breath against the sudden pinch in my throat. I was exhausted, afraid, hurt, and achingfor the arms of my mate. Utterly unable to reach Melek through his anger. Even though I understood why, it changed nothing about how I felt—
“Yilan,please,what did they do to you?” Turo breathed. His warm, strong arms wrapped around me, his tall, broad strength pressed close, and his breath fluttered against my cheek as he stepped in to hold me in comfort and support. I tensed, but his embrace tightened. “You need to speak it, Yilan. It cannot haunt you when it’s brought into the light—”
My breath caught as I stepped back, out of his arms, shaking my head. “I can’t. Turo, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ve been so patient. But… I can’t. Not now.”
“Yilan—”
I stepped past him and fled, trotting down the stairs as quickly as I could in the thick skirts that would take some time to get used to again.
Turo stopped calling after me, but I heard his footsteps ringing on the stone stairs in my wake. And I knew him well enough to know the look that would be on his face.
His quiet dignity, underlined with worry, and more than a little anger.
Strong jaw, tight because his teeth were clenched.
Fiery eyes, because he was a fighter, and I was tying his very capable hands behind his back—yet he wouldn’t resist.
Turo was a strong man. Almost as strong as Melek. But far more refined. Far moreaware.
He believed I had been violated, and demeaned, and it was tying me up in knots that I didn’t know how to unravel.
