Chapter 32
XXXII.
“You’re wrong, Ferus.” I lift my head and glower at him. “Like I could ever love a shadeling.”
Ferus’s eyes narrow with suspicion. Nate winces but says nothing.
I pull my cape from under the souldier’s boot and step closer to Nate.
“Look at him, all hurt and sad. Shadelings are weak, so easy to play with. I understand now why Father built this place. Why he visited Earth to play tricks on them. Punishing humans is quite the rush. It’s like I was built for it. Oh wait, I was.”
Ferus frowns, his sword tight on Nate’s neck as another drop of blood trickles to his collar. “I don’t believe you. Why would you go through all this if not for him?”
“Oh, but it was for him.” I trail a finger down Nate’s chest and flatten my palm over his heart.
“You’ve said it a billion times, Ferus. I’ll be taking over for my father soon, but no one believes in me.
What better way to prove myself than punishing the very human who dared to come into my bedroom? I couldn’t let him get away with that.”
Attero’s eyes widen. “This was all a ruse?”
“Of course.” I keep my eyes on Nate. He gives me a questioning look, but I smile back.
“I even let him fall for me. It was too easy. All I had to do was feign a moment of weakness, and he swooped in to rescue me. So predictable. The hardest part was pretending I liked kissing him when it made me want to vomit.”
Nate hisses as though Ferus’s blade pierced his heart instead of his throat. “You can’t mean that, Devica. I would’ve known.”
I shrug. “My father is the Prince of Lies. I come by it honestly.”
“What’s the endgame, Princess?” Ferus watches me, fascination flickering over his features like the fire below us. His grip on Nate loosens.
“Get him here, let him think I’m setting him free, then call Father.
See, the punishments we have down here are so outdated.
We’ve been doing the same routines for millennia.
It’s one thing to harm a human physically, but to get them here”—I jab my fingernail into the flesh over Nate’s heart—“that’s where it hurts them most.
“And it was easy to do when this human already had no one. He fell for me so quickly. After all, I’m the only one who stuck around his pathetic excuse for a life. And now I’m ripping that away, too. Like a Band-Aid sting that lasts for eternity.”
“Damn, Princess.” Ferus clears his throat. “That’s cold. I’m impressed. You know, if any of it is true.”
Nate’s eyes shimmer. A tear tracks down his cheek, and he tries to wipe it with his shoulder, but Ferus still has him pinned.
“What about your mom?” Nate whispers. “The picture?”
“All part of it. This is a photo of some random human I found in a book.” I pull the picture from the pocket of my dress and toss it over the side of the bridge.
It flutters down and disappears into the green flames.
“My mother’s dead. But I had to get you to trust me somehow.
I figured a poor little orphan boy would salivate over a mission to find a lost parent.
Oh, Nathan Reynolds, you made it all so easy. ”
Nate’s body deflates like a popped balloon.
The sword at his throat draws more blood, but he doesn’t appear to notice.
He speaks in a monotone, barely audible over the crackling flames below.
“I lied when you asked if I saw the monster in the mirror with you. I did. But I told myself it was all part of the deception. Turns out it was the only honest thing about you.”
His words cut deep enough to scar, but I raise my chin and peer at him over my nose, breathing through the pain. “I tried to tell you.”
I warned him so many times. It’s not my fault he didn’t listen.
Ferus lowers his sword. “You sound sincere, Princess, but I need one final act of proof.” He pushes Nate into my chest, and I stumble into the souldier behind me with a grunt. “Throw him in the river.”
My eyes widen, and I tighten my grip on Nate’s hips. “That’s not necessary. Let me take him back to his lot, and he can rot there forever.”
Ferus grits his fluorescent-white teeth. “Throw him in, Princess, or you both go in.” To punctuate his point, the souldier behind me digs his sword into my spine.
I bite the inside of my cheek, and the salty taste of blood washes over my tongue. This wasn’t part of my plan. I knew I’d hurt Nate, but killing him isn’t something I can do. I can barely stand the pain etched into every line on his face.
I’m the reason it’s there.
The fire cracks beneath us, and Nate jolts in my arms. I peer over the rail. The pit is deep, lit only by the green flickers at the bottom.
“Do it,” Nate whispers. He goes limp against me, drained like he’d been after devouring the carrot cake. “I’d rather cease to exist than remember any of this. Remember you.”
His words embolden me, and I grab him by the belt.
I’m so sorry, Nate. Please forgive me.
I lift him off the ground and dump him over the ropes.
He doesn’t even scream.