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I don’t look at him. Whatever that was, I’m not going to touch the feeling again with a ten-foot pole.
“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”
“Of course I hated you, Meryn!”
“Can you blame me? My family has waited hundreds of years for your arrival, keeping the secret alive. I’ve waited. And when the Sturmfrost royal finally makes her appearance, she’s weak and in love with the person whose family stole her birthright!”
“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”
Mine. My psycho asshole. My bloodthirsty killer.
Like meeting like. The fire in her is astounding to behold. Stark will use every ounce of her hatred to stoke it—until she can burn the world down.
