I swallowed hard, knowing she was my last hope.
“I think you already know what I’m asking,” I tested, and she gave me a perceptive look in return.
“I want to walk into that Rift,” I told her, taking a breath before continuing. “I want to stop Atlas from making the biggest mistake of his life. I want to help him save his kingdom before everything is lost and Demetrios’s plan is set into motion… I…” My words faltered. “But I can’t do that if…”
“While you’re worrying about your friend,” she finished for me.
“Exactly.”
“I will visit the prison,” she said, and I released a heavy breath.
“I will speak to whoever is in control of his body, and I will try to honor your end of the bargain.”
I was about to open my mouth to thank her when she held up a hand, stopping me before I could.
“I can’t promise anything. Only this… that I will try everything in my power to bring your friend back. That is my vow to you,” she said, and I swear it felt like every tensed bone in my body melted in relief. Because I knew what she offered me was all I could ask for, and I just hoped beyond all hope that it would be enough.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Alexandra,” she replied.
“And who knows? Maybe in doing so, he becomes the key. The key to discovering how we can free the others.”
“I hope so,” I said quietly as she turned her body slightly and started to reach for something behind her back.
“But first, there is someone else's bargain that I must uphold.”
I jerked back slightly, startled.
“Whose bargain?” I asked.
“The King’s,” she replied calmly, and my eyes widened as she revealed the deadly weapon in her hand.
A dagger.
The million-dollar question now was exactly what she intended to do with it.
Or more importantly…
Which King was she referring to?
Relief was the first thing I felt.
It washed through me the second Bronte’s posture softened, allowing the tension that had taken hold of me to ease as she stepped closer. She turned the blade in her hand so that the hilt faced me.
“This,” she said calmly, “Is a gift.”
I hesitated before taking it, my fingers closing around the obsidian-black hilt. The dagger was beautiful, unmistakably so. Its grip was wrapped in ancient, scaled leather, worn smooth with age, and the pommel housed a clear crystal that caught the light in a way that felt almost alive. The guard had been forged into the grasping talons of a beast I didn’t recognize, curved protectively, as if it had been made to shield the hand that wielded it.
Etchings spiraled down the length of the blade; celestial runes worked so finely into the metal, that they mirrored the scars etched into my own skin.
“The King wanted you to have it,” Bronte said quietly. “Atlas, he… he left it for you.”
My breath caught at not only her words but the tone of them. As if this was a great honor bestowed by a King.
But it was strange, because I felt as if I had seen this dagger somewhere before. I was almost sure of it. There was that moment when I touched the sphere, when a demonic voicehad told me to choose and called me fated, this blade had been there… glowing… vibrating… waiting for blood.
I pushed the memory aside and instead focused on what this was. A gift from Atlas I could trust.
