And we both close our eyes.
But judging from our breathing patterns, neither of us fall asleep.
CHAPTER 91
ZORA
We walked the length of the beach the rest of the day.
We found no other survivors.
Because there are no other survivors.
It’s just me and Farin on this island.
Meaning…
I watch him as he sleeps, his dusty hair curling slightly at the tips, his face serene as he slumbers.
He almost looks innocent, the way his chest falls and rises ever so slowly. He doesn’t fear death. Or, if he does, he doesn’t fear it from me.
I blink, as if that will settle the twitch in my eyelid that’s overcome me ever since Farin killed the lone survivor on the beach.
That sailor was our only hope.
Our being the operative word.
There’s still hope for me.
There’s still hope for me. I repeat this mantra as I rise from my cot and pad toward the other side of the cave.
I pull the dagger Farin abandoned to the sand from my belt.
The hilt is cold to the touch, and I can’t help but note how dull the blade appears.
This won’t be clean.
But as I’ve said, I’ve never died before. I’m not eager to try it anytime soon.
This island is not the type people survive.
Farin is not the type people survive.
I seem to have forgotten that. I’ve allowed his charm to infiltrate my defenses, his soft touch to soothe my fear of him. But Farin is a killer by nature. He proved as much today when he severed the head from that poor sailor’s body without a second thought.
Sure, I would have killed the man, given a few more moments to grieve him. I think.
But Farin hadn’t flinched before taking his life. Hadn’t blinked at the gore.
Because Farin is a monster. One who’s spent years learning to imitate the emotions of others. No wonder he can be so charming, so gentle, when he spent so long in Nox’s head, examining his every thought, every move.
It makes me sick.
Because Farin needs me if he wants off this island. He told me as much when I asked why he nursed me back to health.
But this is not how my story is going to end.
I roam worlds. I traverse the Fabric between realms. I will not be slain by a treacherous male who captured my heart with a few slick words, a night protecting me from the cold with his body.
So I turn the dagger over in my hand, careful not to make a sound as I creep to Farin’s side. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t show any sign that my nearness disturbs him. He just sleeps, as if his conscience is clean.
I don’t understand it. Not after what he did to that man on the beach. Not after the countless lives he’s taken.
I don’t understand it, because sleep evades me.
It doesn’t matter which life I’m pantomiming, which parents I’m born to. Every parent I’ve ever had tells me I’m a poor sleeper, even as a baby. They all claim they don’t understand why. That they tried everything to coax me into slumber.
I never quite understand until the day I realize my dreams are not dreams at all, but memories.
Even as an infant, my conscience is speckled with ink. Ink that’s seeped into my very soul, blackening it with the guilt I carry from previous lives.
Here Farin lies. Unbothered. Undisturbed.
And I hate him for it.
The dagger trembles silently in my hand as I draw it over Farin’s neck. I’ll have to be efficient. Fae aren’t as easy to kill as humans.
The crunching of the innocent sailor’s spine rattles in my mind, threatening to gag me.
