Alora’s light stung his hand as she tore herself free, and he let her go, watching her turn away. A part of her hated that she wanted him, but it was the part he clung to like a desperate fool.
Because she was right.
He would destroy everything to keep her.
Rune did not flinch when she slammed a mental shield into place, silencing the bond between them. The act left a void in hischest. She did it without effort, controlling her power as though she had been born to it.
“If I did not confront you about this, would you have ever told me?” Alora asked.
He couldn’t bring himself to answer because it would have been a lie.
Her scoff was dry and bitter.
Then Alora went still when she looked at the table. He braced but her gaze was not on the chest. She was staring at the blood-splattered bowl beside it, containing Segrith’s white eyes.
Alora’s chest heaved and she covered her mouth.
Rune tossed a handkerchief over the bowl. “Pardon. I didn’t intend for you to see that.”
Alora gaped at him in horror. “You took hereyes. Why?”
In the corner of his mind, a name stirred.
A name not spoken in an age and one he dared not say aloud.
“For speaking treason,” Rune growled. “Segrith is fortunate her eyes are all I took. Next time she will think twice before interfering where she should not.”
Alora’s revulsion settled in his chest. “No, it was punishment and a warning not to reveal more. How many secrets are you keeping from me?”
One question he truly couldn’t answer.
Rune kept seeing her die in his memories, kept seeing the time they had together, all of it gone because of a lie.
Those beautiful eyes that shone like warm amber watched him, waiting for an answer. Eyes that used to look at him with adoration in another time, in another life. Now Alora looked at him with contempt. Like a stranger she was forced to entertain.
Remember me…
If she could, then perhaps he wouldn’t dread making another mistake or work so hard to hide his mountain of secrets. Therewas nothing keeping him from telling her the truth but his own cowardice.
Rune sighed, stepping back. “Alora?—”
The small chest thrummed, the edges of the lid glowing softly. Alora flipped it open, revealing the spider lily and spindle. Her fury flared anew.
“Why did you burn them?” she demanded. “I went to the Gate chamber. I know it was you.”
He said nothing. The quiet between them was thick enough to drown in.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “The Blood Blooms hold magic not of this world, Alora. They are from the Netherworld.”
Her eyes widened. “Then how did they get here?”
“That is the question, isn’t it? Not only how but why.”
The Nether stirs.
Sal’vathar’s words echoed like poison in his ears. He publicly questioned his rule, and insulted his wife, then dared to gift him effigies of the Primordials.
Rune should have killed him.
