I try to pull it back, to shove it down, down, down, where it can’t hurt me. But the panic is slippery between my fingers, wriggling from my grasp. It multiplies in my chest, over and over, until I can hardly expand my lungs at all.
“Figured it out, have you, love?”
I want to slit Dawson’s throat before he can say more; to throw my hands over my ears and keep myself safe from his next words. But instead, I stand frozen, staring at him. It’s always been fight or flight for me—never inaction. Neverfreezing.
But all I can do is stand there, as he grins cruelly and says, “There can only be one anchor. If you tie yourself to the island, the Carrion King will die.”
Chapter forty-two
Adivide has existed in Niko since the moment we met—a clear dissection between a man of sacrifice and a man of greed. A man of violence and a man of gentility. A man of indifference and a man of passion.
Our worlds are more intertwined than you think. And you, Willa Darling, will save them both.
The world could burn and the heavens could turn to dust, but you and I…we endure.
Which one is his true self? The one who’s torn himself apart over centuries for Letum? Or the one who will do anything to hold onto the small amount of relief the universe has granted? Is he the King of Carrion? Or is he simply Niko, whose given me his heart and vowed to keep mine safe no matter the cost?
Dawson shivers with delight. “It seems baby brother has not been entirely truthful with you, has he? Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so trusting of a man who wields death like it’s nothing.” He pauses thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his bottom lip. “Or perhaps, he simply doesn’t trustyou.”
I clear my throat, but my voice is lost somewhere amongst the looming wave threatening to sweep me beneath it. Not a crest of angry fire to be wielded as a weapon, but something far worse—despair. In all my years of running, I’ve kept ahead of it. I’ve run until my muscles froze, until my nerves burned, and then I ran more. All to stay clear of the desecration of despair; the miring pit that consumed Celie and my father and so many others.
Dawson glances above my head, like he can see the precarious tilt of the wave above me. “How terrible…” he simpers with mocking sympathy, “to have shown someone who you are so fully, and have them know for certain you aren’t to be trusted with their precious things. How awful to have peeled back your layers in your desperate want of love, only to end up teaching them exactly where to pierce.”
My ribs no longer feel like bone, but tethers of iron winding tighter and tighter around my lungs. It isn’t true. Itcan’tbe true.Look at everything I’d burn to the ground for you, Darling.
But the darker spaces, the places carved out by hurt and abandonment, are less sure. For who could ever love something as damaged as me? And Niko…Nikohasalways seen me. Seen beneath the pure skin to the disgusting scars beneath. The ones that twist and pull, disfiguring everything that makes me human. Turning me into the wretched creature I am.
I will never be able to stand your cowardice. I’d have to be pathetic to want you.
I examine Dawson’s face, cataloguing the similarities and differences between the two brothers. They both possess the same unnerving obsession, but while Niko’s feels like a dark embrace, Dawson’s is something akin to torture. Like torn off fingernails and melted skin. Like the concrete ceiling of the Amelioration camps, and the hopeful detachment of scientists and doctors.
Dawson is a pit of emptiness—there is nothing inside him but boredom and depravity. And he knows if I tie myself to the island before I become as empty as he is, he’ll lose his advantage. I’ll slaughter every one of his followers with Niko by my side, and Dawson will be left with nothing. I’ll leave him alive only to make him face his deepest fear—growing old, powerless and alone.
My lips peel back from my teeth, as I reach behind my heart to where my magic has frozen. I bang on it until my fists bleed, kick it until my heels shatter. But the ice refuses to relent, because as I know Dawson’s fears, he’s unearthed my own.
Fear constructed of a lifetime of lies and betrayals. Of being used and abandoned. Of never being chosen.
And though the fear hasn’t completely abated since my arrival in Letum—its viscous film still thick in my throat—I won’t let it shut me down any longer. Niko showed me how to use the pain and fear; to wake me up like a jolt of electricity and wield them as lethal weapons. Without the haze of their control, I remember who I used to be. A girl who loved and fought every day to protect that love.
Niko trusted me with his pain, with his kingdom, with his heart.
I’m brave enough to do the same. To not give in to numb mediocrity or insecurities. To let my fears spur me forward instead of miring me in the mud.
Pulling my shoulders back and straightening my spine, I let every emotion I’ve pushed down for the past two centuries free. They race through my veins and spark through my fingertips gripped around the gladius. The agony, the love, the heartbreak, the pain. All of it rises up like a tide, imbuing my bones with strength, and my heart with renewed fight.
I slice the gladius through my healed palm, before leveling the sword and sending it flying toward Dawson’s chest.
He’s terrifyingly quick, reflexes honed by centuries of violence, but he isn’t quick enough to avoid the blade entirely. The sword shallowly slices his forearm, sending his own weapon clattering to the cave floor. I throw myself to the ground, diving toward the water’s edge just as Dawson dives for me.
The air crashes from my lungs as his body barrels into mine. Even with his frozen youth, he’s far larger than I am, the heft of his weight crushing my chest and making it nearly impossible to breathe as I writhe beneath him.
His eyes flash with unfettered rage, as his fingers come around my throat. And when I only laugh—when I don’t bother to defend myself, but instead, reach my hand toward the water—Dawson appears entirely inhuman. There is no soul, no magic, no dreams contained beneath his skin. An empty vessel.
“You think because you can’t die, you can’t hurt,” he hisses, hot spittle raining down on my face, as he leans in close. “I will peel your skin from your bones, little Darling. Drain the blood from your body, and fit myself inside you until I’ve torn you wide open. Until every organ, every vein, everythoughtis splayed before me.”
I choke as he tightens his grip; as the blood pools in my head and black edges my vision.
“And then, I’ll do it again. Every day…until your magic ismine.”
