This was the cruelty of grief. It didn’t shrivel in the midst of the anguish. It engraved deeper with each breath, in the place where love once existed.
The tension gave way in Marina’s expression.
She gave a rigid nod and took his hand.
He placed his other hand on her waist, the slashed fabric of her nightgown sticky with her blood.
Her fingers clutched his shoulder, and she stepped into his space.
Dozens of times, he’d stood in the corners of extravagant halls and ballrooms for nothing more than to provide a Council member’s presence. The room overflowed with deities joined on the floor, gliding in sync with the music. In his younger days, he’d participated, but as the years grew grimmer and the faces around him became familiar annoyances, he lost interest.
It had been centuries since he’d danced with another, and yet, the act returned to him with surprising muscle memory.
He led Marina in a slow sway, aware of her manicured nails pressing into the back of his shoulder, her gentle hold on hishand, and the ends of her saturated strands grazing the crook of his elbow. He was all too aware of everywhere she touched, invoking a heat that ravaged his bloodstream.
He peered over her head through the darkness and into the tree line, the silver glow of the moon refracting enough light to see the silhouette of the dense forest.
He imagined Ruelle in one of her extravagant dresses, her silky skin brushing against his, tugging on his hand to lead him away.
You are not the one I long for, Acacius.
The tedious, familiar ache split in his chest like an ax to firewood.
He ground his jaws.
“Bathe in your losses, but do not let them drown you.”
He looked down at Marina as they continued to sway. “What?”
Water spilled down her cheeks and over her strawberry-stained lips. Small drops collected in her long eyelashes. “This is the wisdom my father once gave me, after I lost in a training match.”
His stomach knotted, and his nostrils flared. “Do not pity me.”
“Pity is the last thing I feel for you.” She looked away, her expression molding back into a stern blankness. “But perhaps that is what we should do as well.”
Acacius used the grip on her waist to spin her around and press her back snugly against his chest. Her warmth reverberated through the soaked material of his shirt.
“It does not bother me to drown.” His lips brushed the tip of her ear.
“Because you are a masochist.” She twirled to face him, and his hand met her waist again.
Acacius chuckled. “Drowning is a distraction that I enjoy.”
Marina’s hand slowly ran over his shoulder and to the center of his chest. Tingles quivered down his middle. He’d forgotten howgoodit felt to be caressed by another.
“All you ever do”—Marina lifted onto her toes, her lips grazing his jawline. His breath caught and he leaned into her touch—“is chase distractions.”
In the finality of her words, he sensed the collecting of energy above his head. The silver rays of the moonlight no longer beamed across the soggy terrain of the forest.
Acacius stiffened, prepared to teleport away, but something fastened around his neck and lurched him backward onto the muddy ground. A monstrous chasm whirred amidst the rain. Limbs slithered out from its body and caged around Acacius, entrapping him. The strength of her power pressed against him with unyielding force, blocking his escape.
One of the black coils propelled forward and pierced through his ribcage, another through his arm, his leg, his gut.
Hot liquid ran down his skin, mixing with the cool touch of the rain. The taste of iron filled his throat. Pressure swelled in his skull as the dark hand of her power squeezed around his neck, slowly suffocating him. Blotches littered his view of the churning haze, his body too broken to act on the fury metastasizing in his chest.
“This was nice.” Marina stood in the center of the night lapping around her like waves of a tide. She slowly began to back away from him. “Thank you for the dance, Acacius. Until the next.”
With her words, his tether to the world broke, and, for a soothing moment, Acacius faded into a plane of nothingness.
