Page 262 of The Poison Daughter
I once told Henry I never quit and I don’t break. How wrong I was, because I’m surrendering now.
I tilt my chin up, look into his eyes, and say the one thing I know will get me out of this. “Stars.”
My voice is a hoarse rasp. Henry looks bereft, but he immediately steps back and opens the door. I launch myself into the hall and slam the door closed on the man I love.
63
HENRY
This day has been ten years in the making—the fuel that has carried me through every dark moment since my sister died. I’ve dreamt of the peace I would feel having finally avenged Holly, watching Harrick Carrenwell know he’s lost, and ensuring that no one else will suffer for his ambition.
I should feel relieved that he’s gone—satisfied to see violent justice done. Instead, I feel haunted by the betrayal in my wife’s eyes as she said, “Stars.”
Harlow didn’t use her safe word on our wedding night, or later when I was hunting her and fucking her into the forest floor. She used it when she found out I lied to her.
Of course she did. It was monumentally stupid to think I could hide this forever. I was just hoping?—
I scrub a hand down my face in frustration. I was just hoping to trap her at the fort with me so I could contain her when she found out. And how would that make me any less monstrous than her family? How much more manipulative could I be?
The vision of her lips brushing over my scarred chest so tenderly—like she was trying to will away my grief and heal it over with affection—haunts me. My life has been full of people with Divine blessings, but I’d never seen true magic until I watched her kiss a wish into a wound.
I stare up at the statue of Asher. His face looks eerie, lit from below by sunstone, which is probably the point. People in Lunameade have so little respect for the Divine of Endings. Foolish, since his power will be what delivers them from the calculating rule of the Carrenwells.
But that’s not necessary now. Liza and Harrick Carrenwell weren’t brought down by rebels. They were brought down by their own daughter.
My friends move around the courtyard in preparation for the day’s events. Bryce tightens the laces on his boots while Carter checks the blade on his dagger. Naima, who came on this trip in the event that any of our allies were wounded, checks a series of glass vials and wound dressings in her apothecary bag.
The initial plan was to finally reveal the Carrenwells’ corruption. My friends are aware that plan has changed, but not why.
I spent the morning explaining each sibling’s magic and what Harlow told me about the tunnel. We’re as ready as we can be to counteract what they might throw at us, but I still feel so restless.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Bryce asks, tying his copper hair back at the nape of his neck. “You seem out of sorts.”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
Bryce flinches. “Don’t bite my head off. What’s with you? You’re not hungry, are you?”
I glower at him.
“I still don’t understand why the instructions changed at the last minute. Something feels off,” Carter says, looking at the note in his hand.
The new instructions, straight from Rochelli himself, were left in a mailbox for us this morning. For better or worse, today is the day the rebel leader will finally be unmasked.
While we were expecting a few last-minute instructions, we weren’t expecting a deviation from the plan we’ve been refining for months. I did wonder how it might change with the sabotage the Carrenwells set into motion for Rafe. And, of course, considering my wife murdered her parents yesterday.
“I think I know what happened,” I say quietly.
They continue checking their weapons, only partly paying attention.
I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “I can see color.”
All three of them stop and turn to face me.
“Come again,” Carter says, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
I point at him. “Do not smile. I can see color. It’s not a big deal?—”
“Not a big deal!” Bryce practically shrieks. “You fell in love with your wife—with our enemy—and that’s not a big deal?”
