“We made a godsdamned mess of it,” he admits, and despite the simplicity of his words, they hit me in the chest.
I huff a bitter laugh. “Inspiring, brother,” I deadpan.
“That’s why you get me to prepare the army before battle, isn’t it? I’m very inspirational,” Therion says dryly.
I try to smile, but I can’t lie. Not even to myself. “I know shit’s bad when you’re being this nice to me. Whenyoustart telling jokes.”
Therion drags his hand through his clipped, dusty blond hair. “It’s not good. Even if wecanget her back—and that’s unlikely—what then? How will you mend what’s been broken between you?” He twists his mouth into a grimace, like he’s hurting, too.
He takes another long pull, swallowing it like absolution.
His eyes flick to mine, all audacity and cheek this time. “I don’t think you can smooth it over with your cock like you used to,” he quips uncharacteristically.
But I know why he’s doing it.
He needs me to shake the apathy from my bones. To stop hating myself for one fucking heartbeat and see reason.
I give him a half-smirk, but I can’t laugh. Not yet.
“She’ll hate me, Ther,” I murmur. “Even if we can get her back, she’s lost to me.”
I don’t say it for pity. I say it because I know damnation is the cost of what I did.
The emptiness of the tether is a dagger threading between my ribs—inescapable, suffocating.
Therion grunts in frustration, like we’ve done this before. Like he’s said all of this countless times.
“You had to do it, Kael. I know the others don’t understand, butIdo. There was no other choice,” he snaps defiantly. “Iwould’ve done the same if it were my Taali and Rubi. It was theonlychoice.”
Shadows of the past hang like specters in his eyes. Ghosts of his wife and daughter sent to Morrathys—the ones he couldn’t save.
But he shakes it from his gaze.
“Elyssara is strong. If there’s one woman who can survive Maldrak, it’s her,” he assures, but the words burrow deeper into my wounds—reminders of the fact that I’ve condemned her back to a life of suffering and survival.
“It’s the only way I could…” I trail off, unable to voice the carnage ripping through my mind.
“I know, brother. We can’t control what’s happening to her. We can’t control how she is when she returns. But wecanwork on a plan to get her back. That’s it,” he comforts in the only way he knows how—with strategy. Zerynthia’s General of War.
I nod, my lips pressing into a thin line, swallowing the bitter truth.
He raises his tankard, “To fighting for the ones we love.”
But I can’t speak. I can’t force the words out. Like I know I shouldn’t pledge love for someone I’ve condemned to this fate.
So, I raise my tankard, and make a silent promise: I save her, or the world will meet my fury.
Fuck, they might meet it anyway.
I suck back the acrid tang of liquor, and settle my gaze back on Therion. “It’s not right that you got to keep your girl, you know. How’d that happen?” I force myself to tease, trying to prove that I can be me. Trying to make light of something so infinitely heavy.
“You should try being less possessive—they like that, you know?” he drawls.
I shove him playfully in the chest.
“Fuck off,” I grouse, and we share a laugh that feels like reprieve.
The crack of the fire is the only sound between us.
