“Since you won’t give me their names,” Lykor hissed in his face, “I’m going to slaughter every elf in the capital. Starting with that bitch Farine.”
Jassyn flinched.
Something in Lykorsnapped.
His next words came sharp and violent, a torrent before he could stop them. “Then I’ll hunt down every member of that stars-forsaken council who forced you into those contracts.” Lykor’s fangs extended, his lip curling. “And when I find them, I’ll pry the names of the others from their tongues, eviscerate them, hang them by their innards and let their screams echo across the realms.”
Eyes wide, Jassyn’s breath hitched.
“But those who touched you…” Lykor’s voice dropped lower, turning glacial in its malice. “I’ll cut their eyelids off, force them to watch as I flay the flesh from their bones. I’ll shatter each oftheir fingers one by one. I’ll make them understand what it’s like to be powerless. I’ll—”
“Lykor.” Jassyn’s fingers curled around his wrist, halting his tirade. “It won’t change anything,” he whispered, chin quivering as he met Lykor’s eyes. There wasn’t fear, just something Lykor couldn’t decipher.
Lykor didn’t look away. Neither did Jassyn, but he broke the silence first.
“You’d just be putting yourself in danger.”
“I can’t stand by while those memories haunt you,” Lykor snarled.
He knew he couldn’t erase the past. It wouldn’t bring back the pieces Jassyn had lost or make him hurt any less. It wouldn’t erase the horrors already wrought. But he could make those responsible suffer.
Jassyn’s hand slipped away from his wrist as his gaze veered to the floor. Heartbeats passed before he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Why do you care so much?”
The question burrowed deep, unearthing Lykor’s rage.
“Because someone should!” he roared, breath ragged as fury crackled through his words. “It never should have been allowed to happen in the first place!”
Lykor’s arm shook with the force of his grip, Jassyn’s shirt still balled in his fist. How could he ask that? Like he didn’t matter?
Jassyn’s fingers dug into the bedding, knuckles paling. Remaining silent, he swallowed, not looking up.
“I know what it’s like,” Lykor growled, his pulse a war drum hammering against his ribs. “To be treated like you don’t exist. Like you’re not a person. And if I walk away—if I donothing—then I’m no better than the ones who stood by while…” He broke off, unable to finish.
Some part of Lykor feared that the second he let go of Jassyn, he’d warp through the portal. So the only thing he could do was release his power. Sever the temptation.
The rift behind him flickered and vanished.
Lykor pried his fingers open, forcing himself to unclench Jassyn’s nightshirt, but his claw remained close.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The weight of everything pried Lykor’s ribs open, hollowing him out.
His knees slowly buckled and he lowered himself—not collapsing, but surrendering.
Once on the floor, he turned, shoulders meeting the bed frame as he slumped against it.
“You should get some rest,” Lykor mumbled, his voice wrecked. “There’s a few hours until dawn.”
“What about you?” Jassyn asked softly. “You don’t—”
“I’ll rouse you if…” Lykor inhaled sharply, hating that he was sitting here, feeling so useless. “I’ll rouse you if I need to.”
If Jassyn had to live with this every night…
Lykor ground his fangs into his gums. He’d been so stupid—sleeping as far away as possible in their snow domes when he should have been watching over him, waking him from this torment.
A silence hung between them, the tempest still raging in Lykor’s blood. He kept his back pressed against the bed, fingers clamped against his thighs. His body thrummed with unspent energy, demanding action.
Jassyn shifted back on the mattress, the bed creaking as he settled. His breathing had steadied, but not completely—Lykor could hear the uneven exhales, the way Jassyn was fighting a battle of his own, chasing calm.
