36. Poison Apple

Chapter 36

Poison Apple

LORI

S ara shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she waits for me to button up the shirt Elio handed me after they interrupted our last—or should I say most recent—lapse in judgment.

"All clear," I call out, my heart beating in my throat at how relieved and excited she sounds.

"We found your grandmother's name in the castle's ledger. You and Iris aren't related like we thought. Your grandmother was working as a maid for the Spring Court during those years. She was part of the staff Freya brought along with her to Iris's birthday party."

"She was the one who washed off Iris's blood from the pavement," Beth adds quickly.

"She was pregnant at the time. With your mother, I figure. She reported that"—Sara opens the old ledger—"all the blood disappeared with a single swipe. It really freaked her out."

Elio steals the book from her hands and leafs through a few pages. "Why did no one tell me?"

Sara crosses her arms. "Tell you what? That the cleaning lady had a vivid imagination? Your wife had just died. They thought Lori's grandmother was either looking for attention or crazy and dismissed her."

"But they still made a note of it."

"Clearly, her direct superior believed her, but not enough to stick out his neck. He must have thought it wasn't worth mentioning. Nobody could've imagined this," Beth says in a pacifying tone.

"Magic sparked off in many dangerous currents that day, and blood magic is known to mess with cells and DNA. Iris's blood must have altered your mother's eggs as they formed in the womb. The more powerful the curse, the thinner the thread…but it's you, Lori." Sara takes a meaningful pause, her eyes glossing over as her high-pitched voice fills with hope. "You're the loose thread."

Beth pries the ledger from Elio's grasp with a smile. "She must be the only person who can cheat your curse."

My gaze bounces from Sara to Elio. "The curse that condemns all your wives to die?" I try to clarify.

Sara frowns. "That's not?—"

Elio snaps back to reality, and the dark, guarded glint in his eyes sends a tingle of warning up my spine. "Shush. Give us a moment."

He walks to the coat rack and holds out his fancy wool jacket for me to slip on. I tie the sash around my frame. The oversized coat falls below my knees, and Elio guides me down the stairs. We exit the tower through the hidden door leading to the gardens, barefoot in the snow, his magic keeping us from freezing.

A heavy breath frosts in front of him as he glances up at the crooked branches of the Hawthorn. Moonlight reflects off his bare chest, licking the curves of his muscles.

I scurry behind Elio, the fresh snow sinking under my footsteps. His gaze darts to Iris's glass coffin before he extends an arm to the tree above.

The stem of a ripe frost apple ices over and detaches from the closest branch, falling straight into his hand. Shadows drape over his face as he extends the rare, precious fruit in my direction. "Here."

I shake my head. "Your curse made me look just like Iris for a reason. I will help you unravel it."

He walks over to me and tucks the frost apple in my hand. "I think the curse made you to punish me. To remind me that, no matter how many women I marry to appease the Gods—no matter how many of them I lose—my worst mistake will haunt me for all eternity." Elio guides my other hand over the shiny blue apple and presses my fingers closed around the sacred fruit. "Forget about me, little spider. Take the apple, heal yourself, and go live a long, happy life—away from the ice."

My chest shrinks, the single most coveted treasure in Faerie heavy in my grip. "You don't even want to try and break the curse?"

Elio presses his lips together. His fists curl and uncurl at his sides before the Winter King stands an inch taller. All the warmth drains from his cold, sharp features until he no longer looks like a man—but a cruel, impatient reaper. "You think I haven't tried? You think I just checked out at the first sign of trouble and let those girls die on my watch?"

"Of course not!"

"Olena died first. She was a Red with advanced weapon training, and when she stabbed herself to escape my company, I figured maybe it was my fault. Maybe I was indeed too cold for any woman to endure my presence. The next year, Deirdre started talking to herself as she wandered off on long walks to alleviate the homesickness. She fell straight through the ice of the lake and drowned even though it was twenty inches thick. That's when I knew winter would claim them all, no matter what. I spent the next two decades after that in a constant state of panic, following them around from dawn to dusk to catch whatever dark force was after them, but the more I tried to help, the more resources I dedicated to their safety—the quicker they died. One after the other, for fifty years. So don't you dare?—"

His chest rises and falls, his fury burning out like a falling star. "The curse only prevents me from loving them. It shouldn't kill them, but ice breaks them because that's what ice does." He gazes off into the distance. "Why did you really come here, Lori?" he asks quietly.

My forehead creases. "I told you. I came to find Morrigan."

"You're lying." His hollow smile grates my insides, the walls around his heart thickening by the second. "And that's okay. Why not lie when you know you can get away with it? Given the opportunity, I'd probably do it, too." Elio's bitter, melodic chuckle sparks a fire in my stomach. "I know all about secrets, believe me. I've been keeping one for decades."

"I came to save my brother," I admit, the words flying out without nuance or pause, my soul a little lighter for it. "He's been rotting in a Spring prison for months, and Seth promised to save him from being hanged if I joined the pageant."

Elio's next line dies on his parted lips, and his anger evaporates. His blue gaze slips to the side, as if searching for the right words—perhaps summoning the courage to speak them.

"To answer your previous question, I did it. I killed Iris."

My mouth opens and closes, my mind silently praying for context. An explanation. A reason. Anything to soften the blow of the revelation.

The frozen glint in his eyes and the dire clench of his jaw don't offer any mitigating circumstance. "You've done a great job of running from death all your life, and I'm going to beg you to do the same now. I'd give anything to rewrite the past, but I don't deserve a second chance. I killed Iris, and if you stay, my ice will kill you, too. Do you understand?"

I nod once. Twice.

My silly fantasies crumble to ashes.

I've made my bed where Elio's concerned. Allowed him to skew my emotions and let myself forget who he was.

I've always known he was the King of Death.