After a long pause of silence, Dominic sighed. Of course, he deserved an eternity of torment. It was why he was so grateful to have found Andreilia, to drink its water, and become nearly immortal. It was why he needed Adara’s key. He could only hope he’d never have to find out what the afterlife held in store for him.
Adara let out a long, exhausted sigh, and took a swig of wine. She shook her head, eyes cast downward on her feet, swaying gently back and forth above the water. “This isn’t going to change anything,” she muttered.
He wondered if he was meant to hear it.
Dominic’s brows pulled together in confusion, angling his head to better see her eyes, searching for answers. “What?” he asked.
“This,” she gestured to her gown, the decorations, the little space between them. “None of it will change the fact that one of us will kill the other in the end. None of this makes me believe that you care for me because I know it’s all an act.” She didn’t sound angry, or like she hated how heartless he was to go through all these adventures together, only to kill one another in the end. Her voice was pained, sad. Although today was a day to celebrate the Goddess of Life, all roads led to one of them dying, despite their near immortality.
“I know,” he said softly, voice filled with that same dread. Truly, he enjoyed the celebration, enjoyed her company. But that would not stop him from taking Adara’s key—her life—in the end. He’d taken the key of one he loved before, killed her, and never regretted his choice. He’d certainly do it again.
“I don’t want to hurt you—” Dominic began. His words were partially true. He didn’t want to see Adara hurt, but his own life was more valuable to him than hers. He had to keep up the act.
“You’re a shit liar,” she repeated from earlier. Her voice was suddenly harsh, rough.
Dominic winced. “No, I’m not.” He tried again to convince her of his lies. “I—”
“Then at least look at me,” she snapped.
Her gaze settled on him. Hot.Burning.
“If this truly isn’t an act of manipulation to win my key, look me in the eyes and say it.”
Slowly, Dominic lifted his head, turning it to meet her relentless glare. He opened his mouth, fumbling for words as he was suddenly struck by the pained expression she wore. How could he lie right to her face as she looked at him with such misery? Such grief. She’d lost so many people. She did not want to lose another.
But did she truly believe he cared for her? Did she really think the Thief of Hearts would do anything but manipulate her? Did she believe there was any chance of them both making it out of this alive?
Surely not. She was the one who waged this bloody war. Which meant her despair, her disappointment, were all an act to make him feel guilty, to get him to let his guard down so she could pry her way into his heart.
Too bad for her, he didn’t have one.
Adara scoffed, “Of course, you can’t.” Abruptly, she stood, shoved her feet into her boots, and laced them up. Turning away from him, she muttered, “I can’t believe I thought . . . Forget it.”
She couldn’t actually believe he stayed for Livisian because he wanted to, could she? Yes, part of him did have fun, but he cared more for the prize in the end than whatever happened along the way. She had to know that. Whatever game she was playing, she was good. Because his stomach churned, his chest tightened, hating the way she spoke to him. Hating that he felt as if he had let her down.
Dominic scrambled to his feet, pretending to be the frantic lover, desperate to make things right. “Adara, wait—”
A glint of metal cut through the air between them. Dominic barely had enough time to raise his hand and catch the hilt before the blade found its target, buried in his chest.
“A Livisian gift,” she called over her shoulder with a wave of her hand, dismissing him entirely. “You don’t deserve it, but I don’t need it.” Then she strutted into the night, skirts swaying in the wind as the darkness swallowed her the farther she traveled up the stairs and into the city.
Letting out a frustrated breath, Dominic tilted his head to the sky, lips pressing into a thin line, eyes closed. She always managed to see through his act, yet he couldn’t tell when she was pretending and when she wasn’t. It was extremely irritating. How was he ever going to make her love him if she always knew he never meant anything he said?
He turned the dagger over in his hands, inspecting the finely crafted weapon she had thrown at him. Dark as the space between the stars and sharp as a lykren’s tooth. Simple—no gaudy jewels decorating the pommel—but exquisite. Exactly how Dominic liked his weapons. There was no need for showy ornamentations when they would only be covered in blood. How she knew him so well, picked up on such little things, Dominic didn’t know. It only agitated him more, knowing how well she observed everything. None of his other victims had known they were in a game of love. None of them had known that he was manipulating them, but Adara had been the one to approach him. It proved to be much more difficult when both people knew it was only a game.
He was running out of time.
Time had a continuous nature, yet somehow, in the end, he’d always run out of it. Time might have been infinite, but life was not, even after all his years searching for immortality.
Dominic let out a frustrated snarl, picking up the wine bottle and hurling it at a wall. Glass shattered, scattering across thedocks and into the sea. Red wine dripped down the stone like blood beneath the moonlight.
Dominic muttered a curse, running a hand through his hair.
“Did that make you feel better?” a deep, rugged voice said from behind.
Dominic whirled, flipping his new onyx dagger to be parallel with his arm and placing it against the man’s throat, the polished blade glinting. The dark hair, the silver eyes full of loathing, were all too familiar.
“No,” Dominic said, voice dripping with venom. “I’d much rather hurl you at the wall and watch your blood drip into the harbor.”
