Page 75 of Hellish Fae
“Aries,” a soft voice says.
I blink hard, and it takes time for my gaze to drift over to the woman standing in a long red gown with the spikes of the castle looming behind her. Her familiar green eyes are wide and unbelieving as she stares at me.
Ryke drifts in front of most of the blood, and he takes a moment to pull the crimson-colored crown from Zaviar’s hand, hiding it behind his back.
“What—what did you do, Aries? What—” I hate the fear that’s in my mother’s voice right now.
She stumbles back from me, and I stand up weakly. I have just enough energy to get to my feet. But when I take a single step toward her, she steps farther back, her delicate hands held in front of her.
Storming steps pound over brick in the same way that my heart is pounding in my chest. I know who it is from the sound of his boots alone.
My father’s long silver hair blows in the breeze, and his golden features are as stern as ever.
That all changes when his gaze drops to his incubus who’s still lying curled up on the ground, and then . . . to his son’s body behind me.
Fury strikes through his gray eyes.
“You monsters!” My father screams.
At the sound of his rage, dozens of guards fill the space behind him. None of them move without his command. His big fists tighten until his knuckles are white. I step forward, feeling like I could possibly shield the enormous men behind me with my small body.
But my father’s gaze snaps to the bloody crown held in Ryke’s fist. Blood still coats his jagged blade along his arm. He’s almost as bloody as I am.
Almost.
“No.” My hand slips slickly over his, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t deny the question in my father’s furious gaze.
He looks at me in a way I’ve never seen him look at me before. There’s a pureness in his gaze as he studies my features so intently that even my heartbeat is suddenly aware of the affection in his attention.
And lies. What he’s doing is as much a lie as what he just said—a tormenting, life-ruining lie.
“Stop!” I whisper.
Zaviar looks to Damien, but neither of them speaks out against me.
Neither of them helps me.
Fucking no one helps me right now, and I feel as reckless as when Catherine tries to take over. But the slamming of my heart, the raggedness of my breath, that’s all me.
All of these fucking emotions are mine.
And I hate them.
“He didn’t do it. I did it.” I urge, my voice coming out in a desperate gasp of breath, and as powerful as my emotions feel, my body wants to collapse right here in the dirt. My words go unacknowledged.
My father doesn’t question why I’m even here. I’m sure he’s heard the rumors from his spy.
But his son is dead.
And I’m not even sure if he recognizes me through the haze of rage that’s blinding his eyes.
My mother’s gaze slips to the puddle of blood on the ground, and she flinches from the sight of it. And then, with a sweep of her gown, she turns away and never looks back at me.
“Krave. Krave, get up. Now!” my father bellows. His boot comes back, and he kicks the incubus lying on the ground, just as Nathiale had.
Just as I’m sure he taught his son to do.
“Don’t,” I growl out.
