Page 159 of Revealing Fate

At the same time, Santhe spat, “Horseshit.”

No one spoke. Santhe’s shock was so apparent, she looked as though she’d been slapped.

“How could you say that?” she hissed. “Cinah would never⁠—”

“He did, San,” Kal said, voice hollow as an empty tomb.

Santhe shook her head, unwilling to accept what Kal was saying. “You can’t know that.”

Kal’s shoulders dipped, though his expression remained implacable. “Domitan’s army is camped beyond the ridge, outside Stillwater’s southwest boundary. Not the full retinue, based on our scout’s report, but enough to present a threat.”

“That still doesn’t explain⁠—”

“I know because Cinah is here, Santhe. Domitan brought him,” Kal cut in. “The king’s envoy gave me this.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a rip of parchment, passing it to Santhe, who scanned its contents with a quaking hand.

“It’s him,” he said gently. “The writing is his.” Kal’s black gaze found Felíne, the dark sea within his irises churning and troubled. And yet, there was defiance within those depths. An unwillingness to accept the die that cruel fate had cast at their feet. Felíne met that resistance with her own acquiescence. For she knew what Kal was going to say, and she knew there was no way to avoid what would happen next. Their time was up.

“I’m sorry?” Santhe read, eyes fixed on Cinah’s note. “What does he mean he’s sorry? Kal?”

Kal’s jaw worked, the muscles along that perfect line flexing once, twice, as he studied Felíne’s features.

“Kal.” Santhe grabbed his arm to recapture his attention.

He tore his gaze from Felíne and looked between his friends. “The king is proposing a trade. He’ll return Cinah to us…in exchange for his daughter.”

Chapter 56

DREAM

“TELL ME YOU ACCEPTED HIS terms.”

Santhe’s words were not unexpected, but they still cut. Felíne couldn’t blame her. The man Santhe loved was King Domitan’s captive and had suffered gods only knew what kind of horrors. Of course, she would want him returned at any cost.

Kal, however, did not offer an immediate reply. He stood impassively, like a great tree of the forest, rooted and foreboding.

Santhe’s expectation turned to outrage as she understood Kal’s refusal. “What the hell is the matter with you? Accept Domitan’s terms, Kal. Get Cinah out of there!”

Adder spoke gently. “It’s not that simple, love.”

She snapped at him like a spitting cobra. “The fuck it’s not. Cinah has suffered for years at that monster’s hands. He’s sacrificed more than all of us! And not once has he complained.” She pegged Kal with an accusatory glare. “Not once. We finally have a chance to free him, and you’re telling me you’re not going to take it?”

“I didn’t say that, Santhe.”

She glared harder. “Fuck you, Kalevar Kaine. If you don’t do right by him, then fuck you.”

Adder glanced around, inspecting shadows for potentially curious eyes. “Maybe we should discuss this somewhere more private.”

“No,” Santhe said. “We’ll discuss this here.”

“She’s right, Kal,” Felíne said, drawing all of their focus. “You need to accept the king’s terms. I’ll not have your friend’s blood on my conscience.”

Kal’s brows lowered over his burning gaze. “Rescue one innocent life by condemning another? No.”

Santhe was about to argue further, but Felíne beat her to it. “Kal. You’re not condemning me. You know I have to go back. You’ve known it for weeks.” Felíne reached for him. His black eyes flared with golden light. Her next words were a self-inflicted wound, and she steeled herself against the pain. “You were always going to have to let me go. At least this way you get something in return. You get to save your friend.” She glanced at Santhe. “You get to keep your family.”

Kal leaned in close. The violent energy radiating off him, combined with his armored, weaponed stature, would have intimidated even the most seasoned of warriors. But Felíne wasn’t a warrior; she was the woman he’d claimed, and she wouldn’t be cowed.

“I already told you,” he said. “I won’t let them take you.”