"No," I whispered.
Tink looked up soberly. "I told you not to do it."
A raw sob rose from the depths of my soul. "No."
There was no response from Tink, and as my gaze crawled back to my palm, to where my blood still bubbled like it was being boiled, I staggered under one horrifying realization after another.
I was the halfling.
I was the halfling the man I’d fallen in love with had been sent here to kill.