Igniting Cinder (The Lost Girls, #3)

by Holly Roberds

“I owe you an explanation,” she says evenly. “An explanation?” I ask. Her lips tighten as if she’s bracing herself against something unpleasant. “As to why I murdered your father.”

“There's two ways to this that I see. You land on a side of love or hate and let go of everything else to reinforce that decision to give yourself peace. Or two, you won’t ever make sense of your feelings about him, and you have to live with the messiness, the jumble of confusion where your adoration for him and his despicable behavior will always be at odds inside of you.” Ugh. That sounds so hard, so awful and confusing. “The second path is certainly much harder, and most people would choose number one. It’s easier to narrow the scope and force everything else out to give yourself certainty and peace. But,” he pauses, taking my hand into his. “I have a feeling you’ll end up taking the second route. Because only the strongest people can hold things that are at odds inside themselves for the sake of truth rather than comfort.” A tear drips onto our entwined hands as I laugh a little. “I hate how well you know me.” “No, you don’t.” The words come out husky and serious. “No, I don’t,” I repeat.

“I never wanted to be King.” “True.” “And this realm would be better left in the hands of the Mice.” “Maybe.” “But they keep going on about how I show leadership qualities that can help us all transition to a new Midnight.” I flatten my lips to keep from putting in my two cents. “They think instituting a parliament structure will help bring new balance. A house of Midnight fairies, a house for beaters, and the monarchy. Which means I would be taking a leadership role, but I would be sharing a great deal of the responsibility and decision-making with the other houses, so I could still live my life. To be honest, there’s really only one real thing holding me back from committing to becoming King.” “What’s that?” “What my Queen thinks?” A lightning bolt strikes through me at his words. Queen. “We don’t have to get married right away,” he rushes to say. “I’d be happy courting you all over again, for real. But the important thing is that you're by my side. Sniping me down when I get too cocky or unfocused, and I’m not ashamed to say holding me up when my knees get wibbly wobbly under the pressure I’m not used to. But mainly, because if you don’t want to build a life in Midnight, I’ll give it all up in a second and move in with you and Snow in this shitty little apartment where I’ll get a job flipping burgers and make it my goal to scour the city for pumpkin spiced anythings to lay before you.”

“It depends,” I say seriously, putting my mug down on the coffee table. He perks up. “On what?” “Would I be known as Queen Spooky Babe or Queen Goth Girl?” When he goes for my throat, tackling me back on the couch, nipping and kissing, I can’t help but laugh.

Brexley turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer and stuck to Red like glue as she held a glass over her head—a virgin decaf mocha martini. The wedding plans have been postponed until she gives birth to the little pup growing inside her. If Brexley was insufferably overprotective before, now he’s ten times worse.

Underneath me, Kai grins like an idiot, knowing the gift I’ve given him. The one we share. The ability to walk in sunlight.