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Warmth crept over me—a lightness of being.
“Hauth broke your wrist, Ravyn mangled his hand. Balance.”
“Just a small cut,” he murmured. “Nothing too deep. No need to scar these beautiful hands.”
“Is this you pretending, Elspeth?” he said, the tip of his nose grazing mine. “Because if it is…” His breath stirred my eyelashes. “You’re very good at it.”
But it felt incomplete, my collection yet whole. And so, for the Nightmare, I bartered my soul. I put a hand to my mouth, fingers shaking. My voice came out hollow. “But that would mean I absorbed your soul when I touched the Nightmare Card. Which makes you… the Shepherd King.” A growl, a sneer—oil, bile. His voice called, louder than it had ever been, as if he was closer. Stronger. Finally, my darling Elspeth, we understand one another.
OH SHIT! OH SHIT!
