Page 44 of Revealing Fate

The only man…she had ever loved.

Fear, deeper than Felíne had ever known, burrowed into the hole he carved into her chest.

No, she thought, clarity striking like lightning. She’d carved that hole all on her own. This damage was self-inflicted.

Kal saw her alarm and made a visible effort to collect himself. A tremor started in his right hand and worked its way up his arm.

“Are you a Fate?”

“No,” she whispered.

A muscle feathered along his temple. “A spy?”

“No.”

Kal eyed her the way one might watch a venomous serpent. “Yet Asteros wants you back. The butcher king sent his hunters to retrieve you.”

Felíne did not answer. What could she say? He’d already pegged her as a liar. She could see the disbelief anchor itself into his posture, his expression. And every bit of it was justified.

“Tell me your name,” Kal bit out a final time. “Tell me who you are.”

Felíne’s misery was absolute upon witnessing his distrust. He wouldn’t believe her even if she told him. And if he did? Felíne searched his gaze. She did not find an ally there. Only anger. Her safe harbor had been drowned beneath an ocean of betrayal.

Tears welled. “I can’t.”

“Then I cannot help you,” Kal said, face blank, voice dead.

He turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance, the sound of his retreating steps as terminal as a sealing tomb.

Chapter 18

INQUIRY

FELÍNE SLUMPED IN THE CORNER of her cell, knees pulled to her aching chest. Tears came unbidden. She couldn’t have stopped them if she cared to. She was numb. Totally unfeeling. Except for the ragged hole that wailed with every torturous beat of her bleeding heart.

Beaumont Stonehaugh did not return. She remained in wounded isolation, alone with the haunting consequences of her deceit, as silent rivulets descended the swell of her cheeks.

Felíne wasn’t sure how long she wept. She kept replaying Kal’s beautiful, haggard face in her mind. Watched as his warm onyx eyes leeched of affection. She saw her betrayal manifest in his features. How it warped them. Care twisted to contempt. Longing distorted to loathing.

This was what death felt like. She was sure of it. Only death possessed the kindness of oblivion. This torture was unending.

The soft sound of feet treading dirt reached Felíne’s ears in the depths of her misery. She peeked up from her forearms and scrubbed at her face. The sleeves of Kal’s sweater were stained with the wetness of her tears. She could still smell the remnants of woodsmoke, whiskey, and something faintly leather-like. The aroma’s familiarity sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing through her.

A man Felíne did not recognize stepped into view. He was tall, with a shock of medium-length sandy hair, and sad chestnut eyes. The man appeared middle-aged, with fine lines webbing the downturned edges of his lids and bracketing his mouth. Despite his placid expression, Felíne believed his face to be one prone to easy smiles.

“Hello,” he said, crouching before her cell door. “My name is Saul Leino.”

Felíne sniffed and uncoiled herself. “Kitty.”

Saul Leino’s crow’s feet crinkled further at her introduction. “I am pleased to meet you, Kitty. Though I am told ‘Kitty’ is not your given name.”

Felíne dropped her gaze. “It’s the only name I can provide you.”

Saul hummed. “I’m afraid that leaves us in a bit of a predicament.”

When Felíne didn’t answer, Saul continued. “Kalevar told me of your escape from the capital city and briefly what transpired in Cindamar. The perplexing nature of your identity has caused considerable concern among our council. My associates are fearful you are a spy for the Asterosian crown.”

“I’m not a spy,” Felíne insisted. “I told Kal. I wasn’t lying.”