Page 114 of The Faceless Queen

Then I closed the door and slid to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest, my pulse racing. I was bursting with energy. By the Gods, old and new, my skin was fucking glowing. Because Brennan’s lifeforce, his emotions, were so Godsdamned pure. And I didn’t deserve any of it. Not even a single drop.

I wanted to race out the window. I wanted to fly into the night to escape this feeling rising up inside of me like bile, this guilt, this shame. I needed to get away from here, from what I'd done, forget what I’d taken from him. The cost to his life. Because every time this happened, it ended in shit. Every time I thought I could love, thought I could accept it in return, and could allow myself to feel again, I was reminded of why it wasn’t possible for someone like me. Why it would never be possible. Not in this life. Not as long as I had this thing inside of me.

My mother died. Jaron turned on me. My aunt and my people hated me. There were only so many days before my fate with Brennan would be sealed.

He will die.

I imagined red scales covering my body, talons and wings forming across my hands and arms. I almost had enough energy inside of me for it. Enough to do it, enough to fly into the night and vanish.

But the scar on my wrist said otherwise.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t escape at the moment, no matter how much I wanted to. Because beyond the guilt, beyond the feelings of lust and need still radiating through my skin and bones, was a feeling of dread, a question I couldn’t explain.

That was the second time for Brennan. The second time he’d seen my original form in a half-awake, half-dreamlike state. He thought it was his imagination—that it wasn’t real. But it was. And all I could do was sit there and wonder how. How the hell was it possible?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

After what had happened the day before, with the protests and arrests, our second day of parading through Eskalon was called off, exactly as the Hermit said it would be. Instead, I was ordered into my own private carriage, and Brennan into a separate one for the long ride back through the district and city. Our already extensive guard doubled, keeping us both surrounded. No one was taking any chances as we traveled back. The remaining flowers and bags of grain were instead handed out by soldiers, or left on the corners of the streets.

I watched the buildings go by, the streets of Batron. We hadn’t passed it the night before, but I was able to see a clear view of the building that used to be Geoffrey’s. Now it was a pile of wood and stone.

The day passed slowly. I was listless, still worrying about the night before with nothing to distract me. I could still feel Brennan’s touch, his kiss, his scent, even after I’d bathed and changed into a fresh travel gown. And worst of all, I could still feel his energy, his lifeforce running through my veins.

When we’d finally made it back to Lafir Castle, I transferred to a carriage with Olivay’s parents. That turned out to be much harder than being alone. I had to keep up conversations with them, accept their love while I was actively trying to turn away their affections. I had to be Olivay again, be her in a way I was forgetting to be when I was alone with Brennan. Because when I was with him lately, I was starting to feel more like myself. Like I was a real person again. Like being with him was one of those big life events my mother told me about, the kind that made the real you come out.

And all I was doing in return was lying to him about who I was, hurting him every time I was alone with him and fed, every time I was even near him. I was so glad we were apart, glad he could recover his energy, so he would be strong for the hunt.

But I missed him anyway.

We reached the king’s hunting lodge just as the sun set for the night. It was located in the woods on the very border of where Eskalon met the wildlands one had to travel through to reach Azeal’s enclosure. The Mortsen Mountains and the Dark Woods. I recognized the trees, the lay of the land. It wasn’t the exact spot, but we were dangerously close to where my mother had been killed. And to the caves where the real Olivay was being held captive.

My chest tightened as I stepped out of the carriage and onto the open field. Trees lined either side of the clearing like a wall, while the lodge sat open and unencumbered in the center.

Slowly, emerging from behind the walls of trees, soldiers in shining steel armor and blue capes emerged, standing guard. Soldiers I’d been seeing every day for a week, soldiers who’d been protecting me, some of whom I’d even become friendly with.

And yet, the sight of them appearing as the sky darkened in these woods made my chest seize. And the warmth of the day vanished, my body shivering with cold.

It was winter. The ground was covered in snow. I was with my mother, riding to Eskalon to negotiate with King Tirian. The border was near, but then his soldiers came …

Our guards were dead …

The chimera was howling …

And there was blood, so much blood, so much pain, and she was dying.

Dying.

I had to save her. I needed to be there. But I was hurting her, killing her faster with every touch. I needed to get away. I needed to run, but the chimera was still out there, and she was holding onto me, holding me so tight …

“Samara, it’s okay. I trust you. I love you. And I need you to live. To survive. So take it. Take as much as you need.”

No. No. No.

I stumbled back, clutching my chest. My arm was on fire—the old scar that never healed—that never would.

Someone was yelling, calling out to me. But I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Whatever they were saying to me, it was in another language, and their voice sounded far away. They shouted again, the same phrase, the same word. But it was foreign and unfamiliar. A name. Not mine—not mine.

“Olivay,” the man said. No, the prince. Brennan.