CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.
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OLIVIA'S POV.
No way I'm seeing King Sven in heaven now… or wait. Is this hell? It has to be.
He’s seated on a chair next to me. His brows are furrowed, eyes closed like he’s in a deep sleep. His dark hair brushes just past his shoulders. I’ve never noticed how long it is until now, how it falls over his cheekbone like silk shaded by dusk. There’s something haunting about the way it frames his face, elegant and cruel, like a statue of a broken saint.
I don’t think Sven is handsome.
No, he’s beautiful in a way that defies reason. Beautiful in that dangerous, unholy way that makes people do stupid things. He's beautiful in a way that's pure.
It makes me remember Maggi's words, she had said during her dinner. ‘...He used to believe in kindness, even from shad
