Chapter 13 Carwynn
CARWYNN
Another flash of light, then hard tile slammed into my feet.
“Carwynn!” Wyatt beamed for a second before his face paled. “What is it? What’s happened?”
My eyes darted around, trying to place where we were through the haze of my emotional plummet.
David and Wyatt’s house. Luckland.
Utterly stunned, I froze.
I figured he’d immediately ship me back to the Human Realm—grounding me like the petulant child he still thought I was, letting me know my free-trial period of being in Ferie had expired.
My blood pressure slowed the moment I met Wyatt’s eyes again. His concern was obvious as he hastily wiped his hands on a dish towel and headed straight for me. In a way, his worry grounded me, hitting me right then with just how much I’d missed his kind face.
David had been my rock in bad times, but Wyatt, he’d been my sunshine. A warm, energizing presence that always found a way to cheer me up.
The white marble kitchen was huge, exuding all of Luckland’s glitzy style. A beautiful, yet simple gold chandelier hung above the center island, small light orbs sparkling like stars. Across the island, steam curled up from a wide chrome stove.
He must’ve been in the middle of cooking, completely unaware of what we’d been through. Honestly, I was thankful for that. Wyatt would’ve jumped at the chance to fight the creature, no doubt.
Shorter than David, but far more rugged with smooth caramel hair and skin. The build of a soldier.
It was obvious he missed his warrior days, always itching for a good fight. He’d pushed David multiple times to let me train with him. Unsurprising, the answer was always no. But that never stopped Wyatt.
His fiery nature brought me comfort, but if he’d been there tonight, if he’d seen me like that—I don’t think I could’ve handled it. The shame would have broken me.
Strong arms pulled me in, a hand stroking my back in slow, soothing circles. Short brown locks tickled the side of my cheek.
Ouch.
God, how much could one person possibly workout? The hug was a constricting corset, squeezing my ribs together.
“You’re going to snap me in half,” I wheezed.
Warm palms cupped my face, chocolate eyes melting into mine.
“Sweetheart,” he said with a warm smile, “that means we need to put some more meat on you!” He glanced over his shoulder at the boiling pot—his go-to love language. “I’ve just the thing for that!”
He stepped back to take me in and stilled. Eyes zeroed in on my torn clothing, the splattering of dried blood.
“Tell me. What’s happened, Carwynn?” He frowned.
Another flash of light cracked through the room—Huck and Pudge arrived. David came in behind them, face lethal.
For a minuscule moment, I’d been swept away in the familiar relief of Wyatt.
But then I remembered . . . they’d been lying to me.
One breath, and my security was gone, quickly dragged to the sting of the present.
Wyatt’s eyes darted between us. “Tell me what’s going on, right now!”
I spun to face David. My anger boiled up again, rumbling through my veins.
“Don’t drag me away like a child!” My voice strained as my lungs quickened.
They had used me. Hadn’t they? Lochlainn for sure—ousting my ability to his men, forcing my hand to help him before even asking about finding the runner.
Anger mixed with a brewing disappointment in myself.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe they did use me, but despite what you say, they did try to help me. ”
His eyes narrowed.
“Despite what I say? How about, despite the truth! Their emotions, their intentions, were so potent I could taste them in the air! Lochlainn’s was laced with worry, but not for you—for himself!
Scared of losing his prized resource. Not you, not a friend, not a life—a resource!
” He took a step forward, voice sharpening. “And the dark-haired one . . .”
“Pogue.” I shot out. “I saw him, he did try to help!”
“Then tell me,” David’s voice cracked like thunder, ripping through the room.
“Why was he radiating shame? Dripping with fear, hesitancy, and most of all—guilt! He could have done more, but he didn’t.
Choosing himself first and only growing a conscience when it was too damn late!
All cowards! Pissing themselves from fear.
The only one with an ounce of genuine care was that blonde pup.
As if he could’ve saved you,” he scoffed in disgust.
A heavy stone dropped in my stomach, drowning every last shred of hope that I hadn’t imagined it. That I did matter in some small way to them.
I’d been such a fool. Again.
There was no denying David’s ability, it always read true. But my mind still wanted to argue, to cling to the comfort of my stubbornness, buying me more time to avoid the inevitable truth.
But I swear I saw Pogue. He was there. Hell, he sacrificed himself, refusing to let go, getting dragged into the woods right beside me. Why would he have done that, if not to help me?
But David was right. The truth was right there. He hesitated and clearly felt guilty about it.
And yet, could I really blame him for that? He didn’t know me, didn’t owe me anything.
Lochlainn and Keeffe fearing for their own safety was not entirely surprising. Not even the truth that Lochlainn was more worried about losing his Soulsayer than losing me.
Fool. My insides recoiled. A piece of me withering away.
I was so pathetically happy to delude myself into thinking we were friends. A step beyond acquaintances, even.
Being used wasn’t new. My heart hoped I was wrong.
Finley. My chest clenched at the thought of him.
The way he reached out, knowing I was crumbling inside.
He was just that kind of person. A sweetheart, through and through.
Though, hearing David call him a pup definitely sent a jolt of irritation through me.
Ridiculous, really. The man was a towering hunk of muscle.
Sure, he had a face that could charm grouchy old ladies and get away with murder, but a boyish pup? Definitely not.
Frustrated tears swelled in my eyes again from the deepest infliction of the night—not the bruises on my battered body, or the barb-like spines that had dug into my ankle and bones, not even the chunk taken out of my shoulder that led to me bleeding out.
No, none of those compared to the final blow. The one left from myself, my naivety.
And David hiding a secret from me again . . . it stung.
A droplet fell, trickling past the corner of my mouth as I gritted my teeth. My jaw quivered with the words I needed to say.
“You lied to me. Again.” My whisper melted into a sob. “How could you? After everything! First, your abilities. Then, my mother—the murdered Queen! Now this? The Lord of fucking Loveland, David? Don’t you think that’s something I had a right to know?”
My throat hurt. It tightened, failing to hold the dam of emotions back.
“Everyone there knew. They all knew who the Lord of Loveland was—except me,” I spat, voice low as my own words broke me. “What happened to caring for me like your own daughter?”
David visibly flinched.
“What else are you keeping from me?” A flicker of rage shot through me, not entirely at him, but at every hit I’d taken in life. “Got any more knives sharpened? Think there’s still some room left on my skin to scar!” I regretted the words as soon as they fell off my tongue.
David’s eyes welled.
I was mad at him, yes. But I knew he would never do anything to deliberately hurt me. Guilt lashed my heart, another internal scar, but my own doing this time. My hand unconsciously rose to my throat, to where my collection first started, as my chest heaved in another sob-torn breath.
“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that,” I breathed.
David’s frown deepened, his gaze locking onto the tattered choker on my neck, before sliding down to the newly marked flesh below. His eyes glistened, aware I wasn’t talking about the kind of wounds you could see.
“It’s just—It hurts.” I laid a hand over my heart, eyes pleading with David. Spinning around, I waved toward Wyatt and the Cherubs. “Everyone seems to be in on it. Except me. That hurts . . .”
Why hadn’t he let me in, told me the truth? I could feel every beast of insecurity charging forward, overwhelming me with emotions.
A low hum rattled the windows. The chandelier creaked, swinging above us.
The darkness that slept inside me stirred—rising to the surface, peeking its head out to watch.
“It makes me feel like I don’t even know you,” I whispered, another tear slipping past. “Being excluded, like I’m not even part of this—” My heart squeezed my sentence in half as I gasped through the pain.
Family, I wanted to say. But the word never made it past my lips.
The thought alone had a crack splintering through my soul. Real families trusted each other, shared their truths.
What was a real family anyways?
Birth mother—dead. Birth father—probably dead, or crippled, or a psychopath. Foster parent—murdered. Adoptive father—alive but shuts me out.
Why did it always feel like I was trapped outside, my face smudged against the cold glass window, trying to get a peek inside. To be let in.
I turned my back on David, folding in on myself. I didn’t want them to see me cry anymore. I was done with it—the haunted look on his face, the endless excuses of why I was always left in the dark. And above all, it hurt too much to see him hurt.
Wings fluttered behind me. Little soft hands stroked through my hair, down my spine. One of the Cherubs snuck a hand underneath my jacket, a palm rested between my shoulder blades. Soothing vibrations glided over my skin. Every bruise, every ache, ebbed away.
“Enough of this!” Wyatt barked at David, scooping me up in his arms. “Enough, David!”
His footsteps were heavy on the wooden floorboards, muffling as we entered the carpet of the living room. He gently placed me on the plush leather couch.
Firelight flickered on the walls from the fireplace, its heat thawing the frost growing on my heart.