Page 129 of Curse of Darkness
He’s not fine.
“Liar.” I want to crawl out of bed, but my heart comes to a bleeding, crashing halt as the scene on the battlements springs to mind. “Amaya?”
Oh, my gods.Amaya!
“Also fine.” Thiago captures my shoulders as I shove upward and then eases me back onto the pillows. “Thalia is teaching her some sort of game with string. And you are under strict orders to rest.”
I grind the heels of my palms against my eyes. “Thalia is almost holding this entire castle together singlehandedly.” She’s been the one watching over Amaya when I couldn’t.Iwant those moments with my daughter. I want to play games with string and read books and steal pudding from the kitchens. I want it all. But I don’t have any fuckingtime. Because if we don’t stop this war, then there willneverbe a chance to find those moments of peace and get to know my daughter.
“Thalia is doing what she does best,” he murmurs, sitting forward. “The role of a queen—or a prince—is never an easy one, Vi. There’s always a cost. Let her support you.”
“I hate being a queen.”
His dark lashes stir against his cheeks as he glances down. “I always hated being a prince. When I was younger, I craved the idea of it, but what I was truly looking for was acknowledgment from my mother.”
That surprises me. He’s so easy with power, so hungry for it. When he steps into a room, not once does he ever consider the fact he might not be the most important fae in it.
“Really? You were born to rule.”
“Doesn’t make it any less lonely,” he murmurs, lifting his gaze to mine.
Those stormy green eyes, full of mysteries and shadows. I ease my head onto the pillow, half-tempted to close my eyes and rest again. “You’re not lonely now.”
He hesitates.
And my lashes flicker open because that wasn’t an agreement.
“Sometimes….” He stalls again. “I’m not lonely anymore, Vi. Not the way I was.” Pressing his fist against his chest he sighs. “But I’m dangerous—this thing inside me is dangerous. I can never relax, not fully. I can never let my guard down. Even with you, I have to hold on to myself.”
And there’s a certain sort of loneliness in that.
“You will never hurt me,” I whisper.
“I will never hurt you,” he whispers back. “But I don’t know ifitwill.”
“Trust yourself.” I squeeze his hand, even as my stomach gives another embarrassing rumble. “You’re in control, Thiago.”
“How can you say that when Malakhai wielded its sword?”
His father springs to mind again, vicious and sneering. But I’ve seen Death ride through Thiago’s eyes once or twice. It’s a cold, sinister look, full of emptiness. But it’s not arrogant. “Malakhai may have wielded the sword. But he was the one who drove it through me. Not Death.”
As if to remind me, there’s a ghostly impression of… emptiness inside me. It’s not pain, but it’s unsettling enough. “Soup?” I ask hopefully, trying to distract him.
I need warmth. I need something wholesome and nourishing in my belly.
I need to slough off the icy prickle of goose bumps down my spine.
“Here,” Thiago says, bringing the bowl of soup toward me and offering me the spoon. “Take small sips.”
I do as I’m told, and it’s delicious. A light chicken broth with rice that is spiced with something that reminds me of the food on the island of Stormlight. “A Stormhaven recipe?”
They like their spices there. And there’s a hint of lemon underlying them.
“One of my favorites.”
“I’d be delicate about this, but I think I want to drink it.”
For the first time, a smile touches his mouth. “Then do so, Vi. You don’t have to be polite in front of me.” He sets the book in his lap aside and leans close enough to whisper, “I’ve heard all the unladylike sounds you make, and trust me… nothing would shock me.”
