“Why?” The demand rings sharp through the forest.
He needed you hopeful.
Slumping against the tree, I let out a dry, bitter laugh. The use ofneededoverwantedisn’t missed. Vaelynneededme hopeful. Vaelynneededa means to orchestrate his ascension as the god of death…
Vaelynneededatool.
Someoneelseto make broad, sweeping moves to distract and do the work for him. With the hells watching his every move, hanging on his every word, a sister who’d renounced the hells and secluded herself from the courts would be perfect for the task—especially upon witnessing the kind of power lying dormant within her.
While I spent centuries separating myself from the hells, Vaelyn spent centuries entrenching himself within it. My growing apathy served as the perfect wedge in a cracking system. For Vaelyn, it became a now or never situation—it was a matter of time before Netharis locked me away in obsidian once again.
I should be surprised.
And yet I’m not.
Were I heir of the hells, I might be inclined to do the same. Especially if I believed I could do a better job presiding over them. But that doesn’t make Vaelyn’s manipulation stingany less.
He used me.
Continues to use me.
At the time, Sunshine’s ramblings about my brother had been strange, out of place. Now, her words feel like a warning.
“I told her she was wrong. The male is a replica. Cleaved from his very essence.”The sing-song cadence of the shadow hag’s voice plays too easily in my head. Cleaved from Netharis’ very essence, indeed.
A bright flash of white light in the corner of my eye has me pulling myself to a stand. This isn’t going to be an easy conversation, admitting what I’ve done to the people I care about most. The demonic urge tolie, hide, deceive, screams hot in my veins.
An urge I crush as my heart pounds.
“Little love,” Ryc calls as he approaches, and my eyes fly to him.
Brows creased, jaw tight. He’s concerned.
I swallow hard.
Eve and Cyran flank him, both wearing matching worried expressions.
“What’s happening?” Ryc asks, taking my hands in his as he searches my face.
I glance at the sophont lying on the ground before returning to his stare.
Will this be it?
Will this be the moment he sees me for what I truly am? The selfish demon holding little care for anyone other than herself? Bracing myself for the potential catastrophic repercussions of my decisions, I shake my head.
“No,” I answer the questions circling through my head, swallowing hard again. “It’s not.” With scrounged resolution, I address the three of them. “I’ve made a mistake.”
I should be used to saying the words by now. Gods only know how many times I’ve been made to speak them.
But this isn’t the hells. I’m not being compelled. I could just stay quiet. Say nothing. All of this would go away with time.
But Ican’t.
Because Icare.
I care about the outcome—what my choices meanfor them.
As she studies me, the harsh concern on Eve’s face softens. “What kind of mistake, Ves?” she asks, unfolding her arms.
