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I tenderly stroked her soft cheek, emotion making it hard to push out the words. “I think they’ve had enough flowers, darling.”
I turned away from her, unable to stop the tears. How could they expect me to leave my babies?
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Ember asked as she crawled onto the bed, settling herself on my knee.
I was barely aware of the pain as Aurora joined her sister on my other knee, her bony limbs digging into my shins on the way.
“Careful, girls,” Finn reprimanded.
“It’s okay.” I swiped at my tears and then held out my arms. “Mommy needs a hug.”
I grunted when they dug their knees into my pelvis before slamming onto my chest. I held them tight, kissing their cheeks while more tears fell. They smelled of soap and earth and sugar. How could I leave them?
Aurora was the first to pull away. Her brows drew together, and her eyes nearly crossed as she gave me an adorably serious expression. “Are you sad because you have to leave us?”
I blinked back tears. “You know?”
She motioned toward Ember. “We heard our papas and uncles talking with Auntie.”
“How do you feel about that?” I asked them.
Ember frowned, dropping her hands in her lap. “We don’t want you to leave us.”
Ugh. Her words were verbal spears straight to my heart. “Neither do I.”
Aurora nudged her sister. “But our papas say it’s safest if we stay.”
“What do you think?” I asked them.
“We don’t want to go into the dark forest,” Aurora said, fear flashing in her eyes.
“Yeah.” Ember visibly shivered, and I wondered if her ghost friends had warned her of the forest.
“You won’t be mad at me for leaving you?” I asked them.
“No, Mommy.” Aurora straddled my leg, grasping my shoulders. “We know you have to go fight the bad demons to keep us safe.”
When Ember voiced her agreement, I squeezed them both to my chest, relief sweeping through me. “Thank you, girls. I love you both so very much.”
“Just please come back,” Ember pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.
My heart imploded again and again. “I will return to you.” I kissed them both while rocking them in my arms. “Not even an army of demons will keep me from you.”
Lady Arabella Viggo
ARABELLA PULLED THE threadbare blanket up to her chin, staring blankly at the fire as the flame’s shadows danced across the cavern wall. She tucked the frayed weave of the blanket over her knuckles, careful not to expose her swollen hands to the elements. It had been nearly a week since Princess Tarianya Avias had ruined her dream wedding to Prince Helian by calling to Empusa, the demon witch who lived inside Arabella.
And now all of Arabella’s hopes and dreams were lost, for Prince Helian would never want her now. In fact, no one would want her, not even her lover and uncle, Duke Viggo, who looked at her with repulsion in his eyes from across their small fire. For though Arabella had done everything she could to send that crone back into hiding, one vestige of her demon witch remained, her hideous hands. She had bloated, bent sausages for fingers, liver spots on the backs of her hands, and deep wrinkles cutting into her knuckles—a sharp contrast to her beautiful face and curvaceous body.
Why wouldn’t the crone go away?
After all her tears had been spent, and she had not a drop of moisture left in her body, she hunched in front of the fire, the last of her strength having seeped out of her. The duke had refused to offer her comfort, not even a hug or a kind word. It was as if he had loved her only for her flawless body. The realization was too depressing to comprehend. Had she meant nothing to the uncle who’d once treated her as more than a lover? The same Fae who had once wanted to take her as a wife?
Her stomach growled, twisting and turning inside a hollow drum. The small fish her uncle had caught had not been enough to sate her hunger, as the crone inside her demanded more food. She tried hard to ignore the crone’s demands, though with each new hunger pang, the infection on her hands spread, until both her forearms were covered in liver spots and wrinkles. She sipped water from a bladder her uncle had given her, inwardly cringing when she remembered his refusal to drink after her while scowling at her ugly hands as if she had the plague.
How she loathed Tarianya Avias for calling on her crone. This was all her fault, for she had been able to control the ugly witch before then. Now she feared the duke would abandon her if they couldn’t find a cure for her hands, or even worse, if the curse continued to spread.
She drank the last drops from the bladder, her throat still sore and parched after her uncle had denied her water for most of their flight across the Fae lands. They had been traveling southward for days. Today she caught the first glimpse of the looming troll-infested Periculian Mountains in the distance. Was that their destination? And what would happen to her there?
