My lungs seize around a stilted breath, the hollow beats of my heart punctuating the fact that I’m still alive. That I shouldn’t be—I shouldn’t be—the one still here. But I am, and he isn’t. I want to scream. I want to pull myself up from the depths of my rage and shout that it isn’t fair. That I’ve endured so much and thathewas the one good thing.Just one good thing. But, of course, it won’t matter if I do, so I don’t. Instead, I focus on the task I’ve deemed more important than telling Xander I’ve woken. More important than apologizing to him and his resistance for messing everything up.
Flaring my light brighter, I force my pace to quicken until,finally, a new door comes into view. I call my magic back and reach for a small handle fastened to the door’s façade, the click of it separating from the wall making me pause. When only silence answers, I open it the rest of the way, amber light from the flame gem fixed to the opposite wall painting over me as I lean past the frame and peer down the hallway.
It’s empty, and I should find myself more relieved by that fact. Yet as I step out of the tunnel and onto the dark rug that lines the floor, quickly closing the door behind me, I wish the king would appear. That his affinity for materializing in my life, despite my attempts to rid myself of him, would manifest in this moment so that I do not have to ponder on what I’m going to do. So that I can finally end this,end him.
My magic stirs again, and this time, I let it wreathe my hands, a stream of glittering black coiling around my wrists and up my forearms. I’m reminded of my time in the Middle, when I escaped there after learning Nox had been tied to Alexi’s fate. My magic had burst from me, inky daggers forming in my hands, and the image had been so viscerally terrifying that I hadthought it an omen. A warning of what could happen if I dared to try controlling that half of my magic.
Holding my hands out in front of me, no sooner do I see those daggers in my mind than they form, shadows made tangible and sharpened into blades that I know will draw blood. Maybe it’s due to the lack of warmth in the now hollow space in my chest, or maybe it’s that my dark magic is encouraging me forward, but I clutch those daggers more tightly as I ready myself to kill the king, the light from the flame gems adorning the hallways distorting when I pass.
I try to orient myself within the castle, a pair of double doors punctuating the corridor I walk, and beyond it, the noise of other people. I allow myself one moment of pause, one moment to see if humanity pushes past the darkness and whispers in my ear to stop. To leave before I do something I might come to regret. But no such voice rises, no internal protests come, and as I command a shadow to turn the gold handle of the door, I wonder if the morality I thought I lived by was just as much an illusion as the idea of being free. Of having hope for something better for myself.
I recognize the small atrium as I step past the door’s threshold and into what seems to be a small gathering of noblemen and women. Perhaps I should have considered how it might look to see a woman in a wrinkled, dirty dress wielding daggers made of black magic emerge abruptly into the space, because all it takes is a single noblewoman noticing me, her eyes widening as her bright red lips part and she screamsmonsterat the top of her lungs, to send everyone running. I suppose the name is fitting, for only a monster could have killed the one they love.
“Where is King Dolian?” I ask, calling more magic to my hands when the two guards make their way past the fleeing crowd and draw their swords. I’m convinced they aren’tXander’s men, not with how they stare at me maliciously, their blades firmly raised in front of them. “Do you know who I am?” I’m proud that my voice doesn’t waver.
“Yes,” one of them answers, his long blond hair tied away from his face as he glares at me. “You’re the king’s betrothed. Oursupposedfuture queen; though after what we’ve heard took place on that beach, I’d be surprised if you make it to morning without being hung.”
If they only knew.
“If you know who I am, then you know what I can do.” I command more magic to my hands before spilling it out into the room, tendrils of black beginning to snake their way towards every corner.
“You killed our men at the beach,” the other guard snarls, his hair a shocking shade of red that borders on orange.
I nod, my power rising as if noticing it’s being talked about. “I did. And make no mistake, doing so was easier thanbreathing. But I have no qualms with you, I only wish to speak with the king. Tell me where he is.”
“Our oaths are to keep His Majesty safe,” the first guard says, his fingers tightening along his sword’s hilt. Their golden armor and blades reflect the light of the flame gems on the walls surrounding us, the flares running over my face. “If you intend to harm him, you’ll have to get through us.”
“You do not know my intent, only that I wish to speak with him.” I choose my words carefully, not wanting to activate the blood oaths these men took. Despite how much time this is wasting. “I do not want to hurt you.”
The blond one laughs, even as the friend at his side looks unsure. “We are under orders not to let you escape, but there is nothing stopping me from marking up that pretty face.” My stomach drops, and the shadows writhing around me pause.
“If you attack me, I will defend myself by any means necessary,” I warn, looking directly at the man with the red hair. “You can go, and no one will think poorly of it.”
“We aren’tfucking—” But he doesn’t even get his statement out before his friend pivots on his heel and bolts for a hallway on the other end of the room. “Coward!” he shouts before returning his attention to me, ire burning brightly in his gaze.
“Don’t.” I try to be severe in my delivery, but it comes out more like a plea. One that falls on deaf ears. The guard sprints towards me, a growl erupting up his throat as he lifts his sword to prepare to strike me.
The shadow dagger in one hand dissolves as I focus on surrounding him with my magic. A tendril wraps around one of his arms while another weaves between his feet and tightens, tripping him. He goes tumbling to the ground, still gripping his sword. I don’t want to kill him, and I don’thaveto. I just need to make sure he can’t come after me. I send the intent of my thoughts out, and the magic responds instantly, swirling down his arm to his wrist and squeezing tightly. The snap rings out a second before his scream does, his hand falling limp as he is forced to release his sword.
“You broke my wrist, youbitch!”
Walking towards him, I call my magic back to my hand, re-forming the dagger there and holding it to his neck when he tries to lunge towards me. He, wisely, pauses before contact is made. “Be grateful for us both that is all I did.”
I leave the guard, chest heaving and cradling his arm, and exit the atrium, continuing my search.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two: Rhea
Thescreamsthatfollowin my wake bounce harmlessly off of me, my magic cocooning me from the nobles’ judgment. Though this half of my magic is cold and lifeless, I wrap it around me like a cloak, knowing that I need to find the king before the castle is overwhelmed with guards. Wisps of black shiver around me at the thought, something eager taking rootin the fissure that has split me in two. The daggers in my hands pulse in time to the beat of my heart, that icy numbness spreading like a winter’s chill as I near a new corridor, and the king’s name comes tumbling from someone’s mouth.
“—Dolian knows. Heknowsabout everything,” a male says, his tone giving away his panic. I slow my steps, pushing my shadows back as I press myself up against the wall, my ears perked.
“Xander’s going to be fucking pissed,” a deeper, raspier voice responds. “And keep your voice down.”
The two men drop their conversation to just above a whisper, and I get as close as I can to the corner to hear it.
“—he’ll kill them all.”
“If he ever manages to leave his rooms. The prick has been hiding in there since his return—”
