Page 30 of The Sweetest Lies
“What? Who?”
His attention slowly finds me, and his hand slides over the dirty floor to tangle his fingers through mine.
“You killed Vanitee. You killed Creatchin’s daughter, Cersia.”
My mouth opens. And then closes slowly.
“I... I killed her.”
He nods. “When your beast took over. She attacked, and you... you snapped her up in one bite.”
She was the flying fae...
The worry he has about Creatchin isn’t even a thought in my head.
“Where’s Nyra?” I push my hands beneath me to get up, but my arms give out, and I hit the floor with a thud.
“Rest.”
“No. I need to see Nyra.”
I stumble to my feet, and my palms collide with the smooth brick wall. The space is tiny. Just enough room for me to lie down.
“Where are we?”
Zilo’s silence treks on for so long I wonder if he even heard me.
“You’re in Hell’s bowels. It’s the prison.” He watches me closely as if he expects that statement to devastate me entirely.
It doesn’t.
There are too many issues in my life for prison to really hinder me.
“Is Nyra okay? Did I hurt her?”
“Did you hear me? I said you’re in fucking prison, Cersia.” The hand he grips me with isn’t a clutching hold. It turns soft and caressing the second his skin brushes over the back of my hand.
“Yes. And I’ve asked several times. I want to know how Nyra is. I need to know she’s okay.”
A flash of understanding lights up his eyes, and I think he almost understands. If he were a violent, uncontrollable beast, he’d worry for the only people he cares about. And that would be Avian and Roman... and possibly me.
“I’ll find her.” He takes a single step closer to me, and maybe it’s the pain and maybe it’s the weakness of my legs but I lean into him. The hand along my knuckles slides lower until it’s slipping around my hip and settling against my lower back.
And then he’s holding me.
My head finds the planes of his chest, and I breathe in the strong earthy scent of him. I try to focus on only him: the smoothness of his skin, the flex of his shoulder beneath my palm, the steady way his heart beats against my cheek.
Because if I let my thoughts drift, the rest of the terrible world waiting outside for me will tumble right in.
“There’s a trial tomorrow. You’ll be summoned at dawn.” The deep tone of his voice is smooth and soft against my hair.
I nod in silence.
“I can’t stay, but I’ll find your sister, and one of the High Hell will deliver you an update during your next cell check.”
My cell check.
They’re my jailers.
