“A king’s line is rarely straight.”
Author Unknown
Asharp, shattering sound pierces the night. Even from where I wait by the back gate, I can see the glass glittering around the discarded flowers. Kerris’s window remains dark, and I know I need to get home before my absence is noticed, but I cannot bring myself to leave this spot because, once I do, I will never be back.
This affection that has grown between us is over.
It must be.
Just because the thought of walking away feels like I am choking on that broken glass does not mean it is not the right choice.
There is a reason our worlds are separated—and I have witnessed the consequences of flouting the rules firsthand.
With Kerris gone, there is nothing left to hold onto.
The pain in her eyes the moment I told her the truth of my situation was the same pain that I saw when she spoke about the tragedy that befell her mother. I never should have let it get this far. Never should have crossed the damn canyon to appease my own curiosity.
My fingers skim over my lips, still feeling the blissful pressure of hers. Her taste will forever live on my tongue, the sweetness of her innocence and kindness.
When I turn and drift away, it feels as if I am leaving a piece of myself behind.
* * *
To avoid the guards patrolling the streets of Rosehill, I am forced to keep to the dark side of the city, where the shadows stretch their invisible fingers toward the orange glow of the streetlamps. With everyone so frightened of a non-existent wolf, it is easy to cross without being spotted.
The two men guarding our side of the bridge stand when they see me coming, their hands falling to the daggers at their belts. Daggers that they earned for doing what they had to do. Just as I will earn my place in our village by putting my own selfish desires aside for the greater good.
I do not need a female who weeps at the sight of a flower.
I need one who stomps them dead beneath her boot as she races toward her prey, killing to provide for her family. To protect.
My mother was like Kerris, a delicate bloom. And she wilted right before my eyes.
My heart grows a little harder with each step I take down the bone-lined path, all the way to the camp. I climb the stairs to my barrel-top and duck beneath the low door. A fire blazes in the stove and a female waits in my bed, her hair as black as midnight and eyes as dark as the shadows surrounding us.
Leah sits up, the sheets falling to her bare waist. She takes one look at me and her eyes narrow. “Where have you been?”
A thousand lies spring to my mind. On a hunt. Checking the outpost. With Maddox and Gryff. Walking the trails. Collecting firewood.
So many lies but only one truth:Cutting out my own heart.
“Everett?”
The voice that calls my name is not the one I long to hear. Am I to exist for the rest of eternity wishing for a different life?
Do not settle for anything less than love.
Will I one day break beneath the weight of this love I carry for another? How am I supposed to do this? How can I move forward when I am so stuck onher?
The answer is so fucking simple.
I cannot.
I collect Leah’s dress from where she draped it over my chair, tossing it onto the bed. “Put this on.”
For once, she listens. Only once she is covered do I drop onto the edge of my mattress.
“What is it?” She gathers her hair into a queue, tying the short strands back from her face.