Page 190 of Curse of Darkness
As if I’ve struck Death a blow.
“Thiago told me of Carolain. You loved her, but in the end, her love for you died. But mine never will.” I whisper to Death. “I am not afraid of him. I am not afraid of you. I will never be afraid of you. Because fear is the void that sucks our will to fight. And I will fight for him until my dying breath.”
Death vanishes, but not before I see the troubled look in his eyes.
And Thiago resurfaces.
“How touching,” the Horned One mocks. “But can he say the same when he must look at his wife every day and see my kind written all over her face?”
“Always,” Thiago cuts in.
The Horned One takes a step toward us, but his focus is upon me now. “You were afraid to tell him the truth of your heritage, weren’t you, Iskvien? Because you knew he’d be disgusted.”
“Never,” Thiago spits.
“And what of the others? Your dearest friend, Prince Kyrian, who has sworn to hunt the saltkissed from the oceans. Or Queen Lucere, who has every inch of her castle warded against the Dream Thief. Or Queen Maren, who despises our kind. Your people in Ceres—the ones who spit when they speak your husband’s name….” He shakes his head. “They don’t know the truth about you yet, Iskvien. What will they do when they find out? Will they try to burn you on the bonfires? Will they march against you? Maybe you will have your husband, but what will you cost him? More war? You will always be the outsider in the fae courts. You will never be one of them.”
The Horned One’s lashes lower over his eyes as he offers me his hand. “You are a child of the Old Ones. Join me. Fight for our people. Fight for our peace.” His gaze lifts, all the savagery momentarily gone. “You belong nowhere, but if you join me, you could become who you were always meant to be. You will be my right hand. An Old One who none will dare defy.” His voice roughens. “And my daughter.”
His words breathe life into the concept.
It’s no longer Connall of Saltmist smiling down at me as he shows me how to wield a dagger. It’s the Horned One leading me through the forest, only not as he stands before me. Not as the monster. This is a powerful male in his prime, barefoot in the grass, his long black robes dragging behind him. Thousands of otherkin fill the forests, banging drums and singing. He holds his arms up, a smile on his face, and they cheer and dance and scream his name. Everywhere I look, strands of berries hang from the trees, and feathers adorn them. This is celebration. This is love. And freedom. And joy.
“Come and dance,” the Horned One says, taking my hand and trying to pass me off to a handsome faun with goats’ legs and small horns set in his curly hair. “Rejoice. For we are free. This is where you belong. This is where you will be loved by all.”
Something crunches beneath my bare feet as I am twirled.
Bones stick out of the forest floor, the roots of enormous trees slowly vanquishing them. An ancient banner yields to moss, but the edge of its herald gleams in the sphere of sunlight streaming through the canopy above.
It’s the Asturian coat of arms.
Somehow, I’m on the edge of the dancing, my breath catching in my lungs.
Everywhere I look, I can see the signs of battle. Skulls tucked in the nests of owls. The snarling wolfs head pommel that once decorated the swords of every member of the Black Wolves—Baylor’s fiercest command unit. A straw doll dressed up in a raggedy gown patched of scarlet silk and velvet, wearing a long black wig.
The hair looks real.
I’ve seen that flawless mane before.
And the sight jars me—that in this vision, someone shaved Lucere bald and made a wig to mock her with.
The Horned One might speak of peace, but what he means is genocide.
“Yes,” whispers a voice in my head, the one that’s been whispering in my dreams for years. “He cannot fathom a world in which the two races can coexist. But when I conjured you into being, Iskvien, I never meant for you to be a weapon. I intended for you to be a bridge between two worlds, the same way that Queen Apollonia of Mistmark was. The old social constructs need to die, my child. Seelie. Unseelie. The otherkin. Break it all. Shatter it. And create something new.”
And as the vision fades, I realize something else.
The Horned One wouldn’t be showing me this if he thought I was no threat to him.
He would have merely crushed us.
“You say I belong nowhere?” Once it was my deepest fear.“They’re all lies I’ve told myself a thousand times over. And Iknowthem to be lies. I’ve confronted them at each and every turn. I know who I am. I know what I am.” Finally, finally I lift my chin. “I will create peace in these lands, even if I have to break you to do so. I dream of a world where seelie and unseelie and otherkin can live side by side. I dream of a world where all the old wounds are healed. And you can’t take that away from me.”
The kindness bleeds from his expression, leaving it empty. The ground trembles again, like some sort of ancient monster stirring beneath the earth. “What a disappointment you are, Iskvien.”
And then he smiles, as if he knows how many times my mother has said those words.
“If you cannot see her greatness, then it is you who is the disappointment,” Thiago replies.
