“Caramyn,” he breathed. “Are you afraid of me? Of what I am?”
She hesitated before answering, pausing her stitch. “How could I not be? Especially when I don’t even understand what it is that you are.”
“I wasn’t always like this.” Asterious touched the scars at his chest, his voice weary. “When I was a boy, and Daemar finally grew tired of Elysia’s pleas to recognize me as his heir, he offered her a deal. If I could pass his trials, he would accept me as his son and place me in his court.” Asterious swallowed. “I was barely old enough to even grasp the weight of it, but I still managed to complete whatever ludicrous tasks Daemar thought up for me, whether by luck or skill. They started out simple enough. Like finding a rogue arrow fired into the forest or harnessing the stable’s most unruly stallion. But with each success, the trials grew more sadistic. Things like choosing the cup of wine that wasn’t poisoned, walking barefoot over hot embers, standing outside for days without food or water…you get the idea. I’d pass the trial, and then there’d always be ‘just one more’ before I’d be worthy of a father’s acceptance…worthy to be an heir to his kingdom. Until I finally failed. I was put in an arena with nothing but a sword, my hand nearly too small to grasp the hilt. There was a door…and my task was to kill whatever was behind it…”
He closed his eyes, remembering his mother’s words as she kissed his forehead before he entered the arena.
It’s the only way to take what is rightfully yours. I know you can do this, my son. You are stronger than whatever waits beyond… Don’t be afraid.
“And then?” Caramyn’s voice pulled him back to the present as she finished the stitch. “What was behind it?”
Asterious sat up slowly and turned to face her, his eyes flicking to hers. “A wolf.” Some horrific feeling hit Asterious like a wave. He’d delved too deep into this memory he’d tried so hard to forget. “A snarling, rabid wolf, with gleaming yellow eyes. I fought…and I might’ve killed it. But I realized too late the sword I was given was blunt.”
He still heard his father's voice from the platform where he watched.
He’s only a child. We wouldn’t want him to harm himself on a sharp blade.
His mother screaming. Pleading.
I swear, Daemar, I swear on my son’s life, you will pay! You stole my honor, my kingdom, and now my child. I will have my vengeance for all you have done to me and my people. I swear it!
He could still feel his mother’s hot tears as she rocked his bloodied, lifeless body back and forth in her arms—
“That’s why you acted so strange in the arena that day.” Caramyn spoke so low it was almost a whisper. Asterious offered a subtle nod of confirmation, and her violet eyes brimmed with the light of something unnamed. She leaned in, her shadow dancing on the walls of the tent by the flickering of the fire.
Asterious licked his lips before he continued, distracting himself from the lump forming in his throat. “I was dying. My mother took me somewhere far away after that. I don’t know what happened there, except that when I returned, I was no longer on the brink of death. I was completely healed—but at the cost of becoming…this. Left with no memory of how it came to be, except a single small vein of Shadow that would end up taking me over like a weed…claiming more of my body each time I succumbed to the beast within. It crept farther across myskin, branching out whenever I spilled blood—see, even now, there are seven more branching out here from the men I killed tonight.”
He pointed to the thin tendrils covering most of his torso. Caramyn tilted her head, her brow furrowed as she scooted closer, examining the black raised veins working their way to the center of his chest. As she studied them, he went on.
“Because I technically survived the last trial, my father twisted the bargain and agreed to make me part of his court…as his killer.” Asterious stared at the blood still caked beneath his fingernails. “I was not the son he wanted. But I could be the perfect executioner. That’s when he imprisoned my mother somewhere I could not find her, and it became his leverage—the hope that one day I could save her. He quickly learned that fear or anger made the beast take over. And so, he used me…Turned me into nothing more than a weapon and a message to his enemies—disposing of them by locking them in a prison cell with me, letting terror do the rest. That cell became my home from the day I returned from death until the day I finally escaped. Until I learned how to gain control of the beast by numbing myself to fear, anger, and any emotion in between. Until I learned to feel…nothing, by punishing myself for the monster I am.”
He gestured to the scars that marred his flesh from the length of his arms to the skin beneath the Shadow veins. The raised lines of white and pinkish pale ridges from uneven healing and jagged blades that had cut crooked and deep.
Caramyn shifted uneasily, still holding the needle and thread. “Then why did it come back? Why did you lose control of it at the Forbidden Court?”
“That’s just it,” Asterious whimpered. “I hadn’t…until you came. And I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know why your presence was making me lose myself again. So when you turnedout to be a Shadowblood, I thought it was because of your Shadow magic. But now I realize…it was because…” his voice gave like cracking ice.
Caramyn’s eyes softened, warmth blooming there as she touched his hand, and he knew, without her saying a word, that it might destroy him if he couldn’t muster the courage to finish the thought. “Because I was terrified of the possibility that I’d begun to care for you.”
The tent fell silent. Even the crackling fire seemed to have quieted. Asterious stared at her, the pain of where the arrow had been suddenly throbbing through his chest. Or perhaps it was the feeling of his heart growing heavy, weighted with sorrow as he laid out his dark secrets for her to see. Most of his men knew. Azell knew. But he had never wanted Caramyn to know.
He squeezed her hand. “Please say something.” He said finally, his words like shaky whispers.
Caramyn stared at him, drawing a breath as she straightened herself. “So, my heart is not too dark for you, then? You think you can look past the mark of a Shadowblood?”
The prince stared at her, a desperate look in his eyes. “I can look past anything as long as I’m looking at you,” he said. “But I don’t want to look past it. I want to see all of it—all of you. You've shown me how beautiful darkness can be. But you also hold so tightly to your darkness that you forget there is Light in you, too.”
She smiled for a breath and then curled her fingers around his hand tightly. “Spoken like a true hypocrite.”
“You call me a hypocrite, and you’re right. So don’t forgive me. Damn me. Damn me to hell for all I care. Just don’t leave me again.”
Caramyn pushed her forehead to his, closing her eyes. He breathed in her sweet scent and let the warmth of the gentle air from her nostrils trickle over him.
“Then let’s stop trying to hide from each other.” She breathed in deeply. “We have both been forced to become what we never wanted to be. I know what it’s like to spend each day fighting the darkness inside you—fighting to prove to yourself that you’re not the monster everyone believes you to be.”
“So where does that leave us?” Asterious asked the question, his breath grazing her lips.
She leaned in, letting her words linger against his mouth. “Two monsters in the dark, helping each other find the Light. No more secrets.”
