Rage flared in his icy irises. White swirled into a tempest around us, wrapping me in a blinding snare of magic. His power held me suspended in the air before him as he leaned in, his face so dangerously close to mine.
Lips curled back from his teeth. He held my gaze, and my heart ceased beating from the stormy abhorrence etched into his expression. “You can try. But it is impossible for me to be any more miserable than I currently am. Perhaps the Goddess cursed me too.”
And with that biting remark, he spun on his heel. The canvas slapped back as he exited the tree. His magic disappeared from around me, and I let out a scream, bracing for the impending agony as I slammed into the hard ground.
Yet no pain flared with the movement—only an eerie numbness. I crawled toward the pack resting at the head of his bedroll, reaching. “What did you give me? It wasn’t just poppy,”I called after him, my voice small and weak. A heaviness weighed down my eyes. The tree’s hollowed-out trunk blurred around me.
No response came.
I opened my mouth to say something—maybe that I hated him?—I wasn’t sure. The red wood spun around me, and I let my eyes remain shut, hoping that would stabilize my world.
Because I was caught in a blizzard, cold and disoriented. There was no visible path before me. I almost wished that when I fell asleep, I’d never wake again.
That deep, building defiance that had begun once I was separated from Heraphia and Zuriel refused to be silenced. It whispered to me, even as I drifted, that more was coming, if only I would let it rise.
And I knew nothing would ever be the same again when I next woke.
17
After stalking the forest until the worst of my rage had tempered, I returned to the hollowed-out tree. Ilae clicked at me from his perch near the entrance, where he’d stood watch to ensure the Seer wouldn’t try to run again. Not like she could with her injury and the potion I’d given her.
I ducked beneath the canvas, finding Sylaira resting on the bedroll. In sleep, she looked devastatingly peaceful. Silver brows unpinched, pink lips slightly parted. No cutting remarks flinging in my direction.
I sighed and slid into place beside the entry.
Even if the edge of my anger had dulled, the grief gnawing at my heart had not. Each strike of my dark boot against the soaked earth had been a stark reminder of the monster I’d proven to be.
Sylaira’s words haunted me. Followed by my sister’s.
At the thought of the Korona, worry knotted in my gut. She would not react well to this. For once in my life, I didn’t know what to do simply because I didn’t know whatshewould do. Or, even worse, what she wouldwantme to do.
Knowing Iaoth, it could be any number of cruel things. Especially if Stadiel weighed his opinion on the matter. Neither would let me escape my political obligations—that fact was unquestionable.
Inhaling, I opened up the barrier to our bond, tentatively venturing down it to check on my mate. A breath-stealing agony flared at her knee, forcing me to grit my own teeth. I wasn’t sure what exactly happened to it—whether she shattered a bone or tore a ligament—but movement wasn’t ideal in either case. It needed to be bound.
Touching her while she was unconscious was another layer of trespass. I’d already violated her enough with each successive Command I’d forced onto her.
FREEZE.
OPEN.
SWALLOW.
The words reverberated in my head, clashing against my skull like violent accusations.
Breaking minds was what I had been forged to do.
Yet the bond—an ancient, ravenous beast—begged me to hold her. To soothe her. To claim her.
Every time it opened its teeth and whispered in my ear, disgust embedded in my bones. No male like me deserved such a blessing from our deity.
But was it really a gift when the other half of my soul loathed me with the ferocity of a hurricane?
My head and my heart were at war with one another, moreviolent than any report I’d read from Zahal Ishim on his campaign against the Demons.
I didn’t want to hurt her more. I didn’t want her to hate me for manipulating her body while she slept.
Only one of those wants could come to pass. And sometimes, we had to do what was best rather than what was right for other people. Besides, she already hated me. What was one more rotten thread in the grand tapestry of our lives?
