At first glance, he’s still the same Rys. Bronze skin, golden hair, and vivid eyes. There’s more to it, though.
Oh my—
Yeah, so I don’t know how I ever thought he was angelically beautiful. The strength of the glamour, I guess, because, in the light of day, he looks as alien as I always knew he was. His slender, lithe body looks stretched; it’s way too thin and I begin to wonder how it’s supporting his oversized head. His shine has dimmed, his long hair looking lanky and pale—more like straw than spun gold—as he watches me suspiciously.
His eyes are the same. Burning bright with a frightening intensity, Rys’s attention is focused unblinkingly on me. He leans forward, almost like he’s prepared to lunge toward me.
His casual air? Gone. The charm that seemed to ooze off of him? Nope. With the haze of the glamour dampened, it’s like I can finally see what’s been in front of me all along.
I couldn’t understand why, whenever Rys popped up, I wasn’t as afraid as I should’ve been. Carolina blamed it on the fae’s magic, and even Nine admitted the fae’s glamour could lull me into a false sense of security if I let it.
Panic starts to rise up in me. I choke on a breath, desperately trying to force the discomfort and fear back. I cling to the belief that, so long as Rys is still convinced that he loves me, he won’t hurt me.
I must make sure I don’t give him any excuse to.
Step one: force the panic back. It’s easy enough because I keep telling myself that Rys won’t touch me. I won’t give him permission, and he’s already proved that he won’t cause himself pain while he’s sure that I’ll come around eventually.
I promise myself a monster freakout once I get away from Rys.
Now I just have to get away.
He knows. He knows something’s up and, without any remorse, the Light Fae plays the only card he has.
“Zella, listen to me.”
I listen. I can’t do anything else. Can’t run, can’t flinch, can’t scream. He’s powerful enough that his plea is a command.
So I listen.
“Nine can’t save you,” he tells me. “The Cursed Ones have earned their title. Come with me. I’m not the monster you think I am. All I’ve ever wanted was to love you. Forget the prophecy. Forget Nine. He’ll only be your downfall. But I? I’ll be your savior. And all it will cost you is—”
He takes a pause for dramatic effect. In that second, he stops talking so I can stop listening.
Angry and scared, I grit out the word through clenched teeth for him:
“Everything.”
My stomach tightens and, in a flash, I remember how it’s possible he tried to lure me to Faerie with the use of the enchanted fruit. Nine can’t save me? If he hadn’t used his touch magic to get rid of the curse, I might have ended up just like Carolina.
And that makes me furious.
“Love me? Is that what you call trying to trick me into eating the cursed peach so that I’d have to go to Faerie and rely on you to survive? That’s not love. That’s manipulation.”
“Peach?” echoes Rys, a curious inflection in his lilting voice. “I never offered you a peach.”
He’s not lying, but that doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. He can twist it, tweak it, mold it into something new—but I refuse to buy into it.
“You didn’t have to. Leaving it in the sewer after you put me to sleep… you had to know I’d eat it.”
I don’t know what it is that I said, whether my accusation stings, or he’s just pissed that he got caught. Rys stares across the grave at me, his golden eyes unblinking as he drinks me in. Something’s different. Something changes.
He frowns, then says, “I gave you no peach.”
I hate that I can feel the ring of truth in his words.
“Stop it—”
He raises his hand. “I swear it to Oberon. I’d never hurt you, Riley. I’ve told you that before. But the trickery… that changes things.”