“You could try.”
I stared at him, my chest rising and falling with each uneven breath. His gaze held mine, unwavering, daring me to make the first move.
The grand hall was impossibly vast around us, the silence broken only by the soft drip of blood from my fingertips onto the marble floor. Xyliria’s body lay motionless nearby, her once-perfect face frozen in that final expression of shock and fear.
“You won’t, though,” Ashterion said finally, gentle, almost contemplative. “Not today.”
I hated that he was right.
“How do I know this isn’t another trap?”
“You don’t,” he said, “but I have nothing to gain by lying. Xyliria is dead. Her war is over.”
“Her war,” I repeated, weighing the words. “Not yours.”
“Perspective is everything, isn’t it?”
The Ashterion who had once smirked from Xyliria’s side was gone. In his place stood something older. Hungrier. Something that would never bow again.
Then, the darkness surged toward me, black tendrils curling fast and sudden, pulling me under.
“Oh, and Isara?”
I gritted my teeth. “What now?”
A pause. A crack in his voice of something I couldn’t quite name.
“Vel’anthira elirenai.”
My brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
But before he could answer, the shadows yanked me away.
77
Mist and the scent of twilight roses enveloped me as I stumbled onto the grass outside the Luceren castle. My legs buckled, exhaustion and shock finally catching up as the rush of the fight faded. I sank to my knees, fingers digging into the damp earth, anchoring myself to reality.
I was home. We were safe.
Hands touched my shoulders, my arms, steadying me as I knelt in the damp grass, my body trembling from the remnants of power thrumming through me.
“Isara,” Linc’s tone was urgent, rough with concern. “Are you alright? Talk to us—are you hurt?”
Darian crouched beside me, his usual smirk absent, his eyes scanning me like he was trying to find where I was broken. “You look like hell.” But there was no bite to it, only worry.
Linc’s expression was harder. “You were going to kill yourself,” he bit out. “For me.”
I swallowed, unable to look at him. Unable to look at any of them.
But Linc wasn’t finished. “You don’t get to make choices like that for us, Isara. Do you understand?” His voice shook. “I would rather have died than have you?—”
He broke off, his jaw clenching as he struggled to contain his emotions. The silence was unbearable between us, filled with raw pain.
“I couldn’t do it,” I whispered. “I couldn’t kill you. I couldn’t kill Varyth. I—” My breath hitched, the memories flooding back with brutal clarity. “I couldn’t make that choice.”
Before either of us could say another word, I saw him.
Varyth.
