What’s more shocking than actually seeing her—being in her presence—is that Pyke is the one who brought me to her. I simply can’t comprehend why he would do this.
Pyke shoves me so hard that I fall to my knees, almost toppling over to land at Kymaris’ feet. I lift my head to see Pyke move past me straight to Kymaris, where he leans in and kisses a healed portion of her cheek.
“Brought you a present,” he murmurs.
Kymaris doesn’t take her eyes off me, but she curls an arm upward to bring her palm to his cheek. “Indeed, you have, my love. Indeed, you have.”
My stomach sinks, finally realizing the implications of Pyke being in cahoots with Kymaris. Immediately, I realize it wasn’t Boral who told her that we had the Blood Stone, but rather Pyke. And given Pyke has immense powers that are probably on par, or even greater, than hers, the situation just got unbelievably bad for us.
The only saving grace is that the chalice is with Zaid back in Faere, and Carrick will soon be arriving there.
Kymaris bends to peer at me, reaching out to take a lock of my hair. She rubs it thoughtfully between her fingers before bringing her eyes to mine.
“What makes you so special that you’d be written into this prophecy?” she asks quietly, her gaze boring angrily into mine.
Relief sweeps through me at her question. She knows absolutely nothing about me, and I’m grateful we never brought Pyke fully into the fold. The only thing he knows is that I’m part of a prophecy, but he’s never been told another piece of information.
Which means Kymaris is still in the dark.
I don’t respond to her question because I have a feeling that any answer I give—hell, just my voice alone—will anger her. Silently, I stare resolutely right back at her.
For a moment, I think she takes it as a direct challenge as her eyes start to turn red. But she reins it in, a slow smile curling her lips. She leans in just a little closer until I can feel her breath on my face.
“Nothing,” she murmurs in a light voice. “Nothing makes you special.”