“If you were truly our friend, you would tell us where it is,” Boulder replies stoically.
“It’s half a league from ‘eat shit’ and three from ‘go fuck yourself.’”
Scriv backhands me across the mouth.
Maven startles and her lips tighten, but she doesn’t rebuke him for it, not even when I spit blood.
That’s what clinches it for me. Our friendship is truly over. The Javelins are no longer my crew in any sense of the word. They no longer deserve my protection or my loyalty.
They think I’m soft, useless, and unmotivated, but they simply don’t understand what drives me. Throughout my life, one of my strongest motives has been pain. And they’ve cleaved a wound in my heart that’s as deep as the one my parents made.
Pain births rage. Rage is the source of cruelty. And the language of cruelty is violence.
I don’t know how powerful the wishing stone is, or if it still possesses any magic. With my hands tied, it’s the only weapon Ihave at the moment. I need to try using it before I’m gagged again.
“Are you ready to talk now?” The smug malice in Scriv’s eyes seals his fate and theirs. It renders me merciless.
“I wish that you four traitors were all back in Belgate, with nothing to show for this journey, and that you’ll remain there when the wish expires,” I say.
A chill passes through the air, like a whisper of winter. Maven’s stricken face imprints on my brain right before she vanishes. Boulder’s bulk disappears from behind me. With his arms no longer there, holding me up, my body tilts aside, and I fall hard on my left shoulder.
Fuck... I should have wished myself free of the ropes as well. But it’s too late. Scriv, Maven, Flex, and Boulder are gone.
I’m hoping that my addendum works, and that when the next twenty-four hours are up, my crew will simply continue their lives in Belgate. When the wish expires, I don’t want them to show up wherever I am, or wherever the stone is. I never want to see them again.
Rather than trying to get loose, I lie motionless on my side, tears trickling silently over the bridge of my nose.
What hurts the most is that I sensed this coming, and yet I couldn’t really believe they would do it. I thought I could forestall the impending split; maybe win them back, or at the very least, part from them amicably as we each took our own share of Drosselmeyer’s fortune. I thought Maven would stick with me as a friend, at least, if not a business partner.
And now it’s just—over. Something that I spent years building, relationships I invested in so heavily—all of it shattered in the space of minutes. A mistake of mine that they misinterpreted, an explanation given but not believed, an apology made but not accepted, and it all crumbles.
Irreversible damage. Nothing left to reclaim.
They demanded something I wasn’t willing to yield, threatened to torture me until I gave it up, and forced my hand to that final wish.
Maybe I should have given them the location of the Doras Álainn. I could have told them where it was and warned them about the monster. But I couldn’t stand the thought of them taking the treasure that should be mine and leaving me here. And I couldn’t bear to relinquish the possibility of healing for Ravager, who, in the short time I’ve known him, has already sacrificed more for me than the Javelins ever did.
My own crew tied me up. They wanted to leave me in the hands of the Fae to punish me for their twenty-four hours of trauma. As if I didn’t endure trauma of my own during that time. They didn’t ask what I suffered while they were gone. Didn’t show any concern about the injuries all over my body. Didn’t question what I went through to get into this room.
They got off easy. A swift trip back home with nothing to show for their time and effort, but I could have wished far worse upon them.
“Fuck them,” I whisper.
“They didn’t deserve you.” Ravager’s voice is weak, but clear.
I suck in a startled breath and roll myself over so I can see him. Between the mottled bruises and the heat-seared flush of his face, he looks awful. The skin of his throat and upper chest is stark white, probably from blood loss, and the bandage around his hand is soaked through. But he’s alive.
“You’re awake,” I say.
“Somewhat the worse for wear.” He gives me a wan smile. “But I’m glad we both survived. You saved me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t read too much into it.”
“Leaving me behind would have been easy. Saving me wasn’t. So… thank you.”
I squirm against the ropes, uncomfortable with his sincere gratitude and my own churning emotions. “How long have you been conscious?”
“The first thing I remember is you saying, ‘You’re back!’ But I felt too weak to open my eyes at first, and then, as things progressed, I decided my reawakening might cause more complications. Of course, if they’d begun to torture you, I would have done my best in your defense.”
