And he couldn’t feel anything.
No—that wasn’t true. He felteverything. Too much. It was choking him.
They’d both made choices. Bad ones. Selfish ones. Who was he to judge? After Dulross. After everything he’d done in the name of—what? Justice? Revenge? None of it mattered any longer.
“Son.” Sablebane’s gaze found his. “Will you make me beg?”
Something cracked in Alar’s chest. “No,” he whispered. “Don't.”
“Then do it.”
His heart started to slam against his ribs, hard and erratic.
He looked at Fern and marked the pain blazing in her eyes. She was shaking, barely holding on.
Reaching out, he drew one of the blades strapped to his father’s thigh. His fingers closed around the bone grip. “Where?” he asked hoarsely.
Sablebane’s gaze held his. Something flickered in his grey eyes—gratitude, maybe. Relief. “Drive it through the base of my throat.”
Fern made a small and broken sound. Alar didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d drop the blade and walk away.
Swallowing, he placed the tip in the hollow at the base of his father’s throat. The steel dimpled his skin, and Alar’s hand shook.
“Thank you.”
The words barely made it out.
Then his father let go of Fern and wrapped his hand around Alar’s forearm—above where he already gripped his wrist with his other hand—steadying him.
And yanked down.
Even dying, he was strong, stronger than Alar expected. The blade punched through—hit something, kept going, and then buried itself to the hilt.
Blinding pain exploded in Alar’s shoulder. He bit down on a curse that wanted to turn into a scream.
Meanwhile, his father’s eyes went wide, slitted pupils contracting into thin lines. His mouth opened, and blood dribbled down his chin, thick and dark.
Alar couldn’t move. He couldn’t look away.
The man who’d sired him. Abandoned him. Betrayed him. Saved him.
Dying.
The hands gripping his arm went slack and fell away.
Gone.
Fern started to weep. They weren’t quiet tears, but deep sobs that tore from her chest. The rending sound echoed off stone, filling The Shattered Crown.
A hand touched his good shoulder.
Lara.
She settled beside him. He leaned into her without thinking. He needed the contact, needed something warm and real.
They sat while Fern wept. No one spoke.
Time passed. How long, he couldn’t tell.
