“Her verdict is you haven’t broken her rules because you’d already been bound to the demon when she took your allegiance. You had no knowledge of that tie until that first summoning. Since you’ve been through hell and back, literally—several times over—there is no need to prolong your torment with more agony as you still live with your current one.”
His hand fisted, causing the scabs forming on his knuckles to split and bleed again. “Indeed. From one damnation to another, living eternity without my mate. I would have preferred death.”
Blaéz picked up the cup and walked out of the silent kitchen. This entire place reminded him of a fucking fast-closing tomb.
Chapter 32
Darci leaned backin her armchair, her watery gaze on the iPhone playing more songs from that poignant CD. Knuckles pressed to her lips, she stifled the sobs threatening to escape.
The door opened. At Blaéz’s almost silent footsteps, she hastily swiped away her tears with the squashed tissues she’d found in her skirt pocket. Struggling for calmness, she glanced over her shoulder as he headed for her. His churning gaze and stiff gait showed the depth of his torment.
He took his cell and shut it off, then walked around the armchair and sat on the wooden coffee table opposite her, setting a cup of steaming golden liquid beside him—the energy-bolstering tea.
He didn’t speak, just took her hand and played with her engagement ring. The skin on his knuckles was raw and bloody. She freed her fingers, picked up the tissue she’d dropped on the couch, and gently wiped away the mess, her heart breaking for him, for them. “What did you do?”
“I punched the wall.”
“Why?”
“I spoke to The Morrigan. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He never outright referred to her as his mother. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten anywhere with her. “I’m sorry.” She stroked his hair, his head bowed over their clasped hands. “Why do you hate her?”
“It’s not important.”
“I think it is. You’ve never spoken of her after that one time. But I see your anger, I feel your pain, and I know she’s hurt you. Tell me.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. It was still a shock to see the cobalt shade of his irises instead of their former icy pale hue, his healed soul shining through in the vibrant blue.
“Until I realized I had the same color eyes as hers, I was excited to be favored by the great queen,” he said with biting sarcasm. “She tookme, a servant, to squire with her when I passed my twelfth summer. Said I had great potential as a fighter—I’d always gotten into scrapes as a lad. Years later, I realized the joke was on me. I have a twin. Her son, Finnén.”
“You do?” Darci asked stunned.
“Yes. Fraternal. Before I was born, she saw my future. Had I remained with her, I would have died before reaching twelve summers. So she bound my powers and gave me away to prevent that. But Finnén didn’t care for the attention she showed me—a servant. I was waylaid and beaten often. Soon after, she sent me to her army camps, and away from Finnén. It was a harsh life, but it suited me. It gave me an outlet for my anger. Through the years, she’d stop often at the barracks to see me. In my eighteenth year, I became her Hand, herslayerin her armies and feared by all. Finnén thought I was her lover. More fights took place...”
Blaéz picked up the tea from beside him and gave it to her. When she’d drunk the cooling herbal liquid with the minty taste, he set it down and continued, “The Morrigan summoned me to the castle soon after another fight, it was the same day I saw Finnén’s and my reflection in a mirror. Of course, Finn could see nothing past his nose. Despite me being dark and he fair, we had the same facial structure. Then it all made sense. I confronted her. She didn’t deny it. I demanded she either tell the truth about me or leave me alone. She agreed. The next thing I knew, my powers were unbound and I was reassigned as a protector to the goddess of life.”
“Why would she do that?” Darci asked, shocked.
“It seems my destiny would follow me into adulthood. She saw my death on the battlefields, so she altered my fate once again without my knowledge.”
“Instead, she gave you a worse one,” Darci said.
His mouth tightened. She reached for his clenched hands. Sometimes in trying too hard to keep the ones you love safe, it’s then the worst damages are caused. Her own ancestors had no idea what their decision would cost her.
“What about your father?” she asked softly. “Didn’t he intervene?”
“The gods aren’t like mortal parents,” he said, staring at their joined hands. “Not from my experience anyway. Dagda, our sire and the great king, lived elsewhere. He had no interest in her wars, and so he had no idea his mate bore twins. It seems she kept that part secret then handed me over to her trusted servant. To all in the Celtic pantheon, only Finnén is her son.”
Another wound. Darci clamped down her fury at The Morrigan. “Your eyes are beautiful,” she said instead.
He shook his head. “I far prefer the colorless ones I had. At least then I would still have you.”
Pain choked her. She put her arms around him and hugged him tight. “It will be all right,” she whispered. “You have your soul back now. It will get better…and in time you’ll be able to love again—”
He reeled back in disbelief. “I waited my entire life for you, and you think I will just lope off to find another?” He shoved to his feet, looking like he’d jump out of his skin if he didn’t move. He stalked to the fireplace.
“Blaéz—”
