Page 32 of The Sweetest Lies
The brightest green eyes focus solely on me. His attention smooths across every single emotion I’m not even aware of that might be upon my face.
His hold on my hand tightens, and he takes a single step closer to me, as if he might wrap me up in his strength and never let me go.
That—that is the solace I was looking for.
Then another big hand is wrapping around my other wrist, and with a slow and reluctant pull, he brings me into that harsh, white light. Roman’s eyes widen. Fear washes into those beautiful, haunting eyes of his.
And then he lets me go.
“Cersia of upper realm daughter of Tomlin, are you aware of the crimes held against you?”
The crimes?
The quick death of a batty little fairy blurs through my mind.
Yes.
“Yes. I am.” I say it without emotion or attachment to the death of the queen’s daughter.
It’s a heartless admission, but it isn’t something I can try to understand. A beast that’s hidden away within myself my entire life made a thrashing appearance last night.
It killed the daughter of the ruler of Hell.
And now, there will be hell to pay indeed.
Zilo leads me to the center of the room, and I’m finally aware that it’s the dining hall. The large wooden tables have been positioned to leave an aisle down the middle. The aisle I stand in now. With my peers leering at me on all sides. Some hell fae hold their mouths tight with grinding jaws, while others can’t contain the hisses that slither across their lips as they reveal the pointed teeth within.
My gaze lifts higher and higher, and the night of the king of Hell’s death feels like it was just yesterday as I look up at the ledge he so frequently loomed upon.
And there sits his queen.
Her long legs are crossed delicately beneath a sheer black gown. Her inky eyes eat me up from where I stand so far beneath her.
To my surprise, another figure stands tall at her side.
She too looks down at me like I might be smote beneath her big brown eyes.
“Nyra,” I whisper with the last breath I can keep in my lungs.
Her cheeks are red, and her features are puffy. Even from here, I can see how damp her gaze is.
Because of me.
Oh no.
“The account of last night’s painful loss presents a very strange occurrence,” Creatchin says rather casually.
Her smooth voice echoes around the room so subtly that it strikes something within me...
She sounds just as unattached as I do.
I look up at the regal woman once more.
She’s as poised as ever. Unlike me, she doesn’t seem empty or confused. Long black hair pours down her slender back with precise beauty. Her features are as flawless as ever. A smile carves her lips faintly at the corners.
She’s... completely unaffected by the loss of her only daughter.
Nyra, on the other hand—emotions shake around her shoulders every few seconds like something is pressing to get out. She’s moments away from crumbling to the ground.
