Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy 1)

that possible or am I crazy?"

Tink said nothing and the sense of dread grew. I drew in a shuddering breath.

"He was going to kill me. I know he was. Even though he gave me a chance to leave, he was going to kill to me. But he healed me, and he . . . the prince . . . said halfling. When I was bleeding, he said halfling."

Tink's expression fell, and my heart followed. "Ivy."

I couldn't catch my breath. My skin suddenly felt cold.

He flew into the room and several moments passed. "We—the brownies—have always been able to sense the Otherworld in other creatures, no matter how minimal. In a way, it made us valuable to the others," he explained quietly, his pale gaze sharp and fixed on me. "Fae, ancient or not, aren't bloodhounds. They have to be right on someone to scent the half in them."

And the ancient who'd shot me, the one who opened the gate with Val's help, hadn't been standing right by me. He'd been several feet away. Was that something that the Elite hadn't realized?

"But you . . ." I couldn't even finish the thought. In the back of my mind, I knew Tink had been keeping even more information from me, but at that moment, I didn't care. That wasn't what was important right now. Maybe later I'd punt kick him through a window, but at this second, horror consumed me. "It wasn't a coincidence that I found you, was it?"

Tink cast his gaze to the floor, and the stake trembled in my right hand.

"Don't do it, Ivy."

And because he asked that, I did it. I had to. I had to know, and I swiped the sharp edge of the stake right across my palm. I didn't even feel the pain, but my skin split with a hiss, and my blood immediately bubbled and popped.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

Dropping the thorn stake, it clattered off the wood floor as I stepped back from it. I lifted my head, staring at Tink. His wings drooped to the side as he lowered himself to the foot of the bed. My heart was thundering, pounding so fast I thought I'd be sick.

"No," I whispered.

Tink looked up soberly. "I told you not to do it."

A raw sob rose from the depths of my soul. "No."

There was no response from Tink, and as my gaze crawled back to my palm, to where my blood still bubbled like it was being boiled, I staggered under one horrifying realization after another.

I was the halfling.

I was the halfling the man I'd fallen in love with had been sent here to kill.