From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

believing what he’d said. He’d been so convincing, and myy stomach
churned at the thought of what he must’ve reallyy thought.
How he must’ve reallyy felt when he touched the scars, kissed them.
He spoke into the silence then, startling me. “This mayy burn.”
I thought his voice sounded gruffer than normal, but then I felt him
lean closer, and the first splash of lukewarm liquid hit the wound. Air
hissed through myy teeth as scorching pain lanced the right side of myy
stomach and up myy ribs. The bitter astringent scent rose as the liquid
bubbled in the cut, and I welcomed the sting, focusing on it instead of the
throbbing ache in myy chest.
Tipping myy head back, I kept myy eyyes closed as more liquid splashed
along the injuryy, creating more foam and sending another wave of pain
shuddering across myy midsection.
“Sorryy about that,” he muttered, and I almost believed that he was. “It
will need to sit for a bit to burn out anyy infection that mayy have alreadyy
been making its wayy in there.”
Great.
Mayybe it would burn through myy stupid heart.
Silence fell, but it didn’t last long. “The Craven were our fault,” he
said, startling me. “Their creation, that is. All of this. The monsters in the
mist. The war. What has become of this land. You. Us. It all started with an
incrediblyy desperate, foolish act of love, manyy, manyy centuries before the
War of Two Kings.”
“I know,” I said, clearing myy throat. “I know the historyy.”
“But do yyou know the true historyy?”
“I know the onlyy historyy.” Myy eyyes opened, and I shifted myy gaze
awayy from the chains and twisted bones.
“You know onlyy what the Ascended have led everyyone to believe, and
it is not the truth.” He reached over, plucking up the chain that crossed a
part of myy stomach. I tensed as he carefullyy moved it aside. “Myy people
lived alongside mortals in harmonyy for thousands of yyears, but then King
O’Meer Malec—”
“Created the Craven,” I cut him off. “Like I said—”
“You’re wrong.” He shifted so he sat back, one leg drawn up, and his
arm resting on his knee. “King Malec fell hopelesslyy in love with a mortal
woman. Her name was Isbeth. Some sayy it was Queen Eloana who
poisoned her. Others claim it was a jilted lover of the King’s who stabbed