Forty-Three
Alaric heaves forward with a wet, guttural cry, and the chain slips from his hands as he collapses. The golden glimmer of the past dissolves, leaving us in total darkness, but not even the black mountain sky can conceal the deep red stain spreading through his jacket and snaking down his sides.
It’s horrifying and mesmerizing. It doesn’t seem possible one body could hold so much blood. As it soaks into the ground, I wait for vindication and relief to wash over me. For feelings of pride and victory to raise me up above the carnage. But it feels like my insides have been scraped out with a rusted trowel. Which doesn’t make sense.
Iwon. Alaric had every advantage—including the power of the earth—but I emerged victorious.Istruck first, before he could strike me.
And that, right there, is the problem, I realize.
Alaric didn’t strike at all. He never tried to defend himself.
“Are you really going to just lie there and accept defeat?” I shout, kicking dust at his face.
With an agonized grunt, Alaric raises his arm.
I scramble back, waiting for the ground to shift, for the battle to truly commence. But the earth remains still. Hauntingly so.
“Take them,” Alaric begs, arm still raised.
I narrow my eyes and take another step back. “Take what?”
He overturns his wrist. “The gemstones. That’s what you’re after, right? Pull the knife from my back and use it to cut them out. I don’t know if the power will transfer to someone not of Callahan’s bloodline, but you have to try. It’s the only way to maintain the mountain range and protect your people. I just ask you to think of my people too. They didn’t know any better. I thought a small part of you wasbeginning to care for them,” he adds, his voice rough and wet.
A sour lump rises in my throat because, despite years of lies and exploitation, Idocare for the Vanzadorians. Not their rulers, obviously, but the people themselves: the shopkeepers and courtiers, who danced in the square during the coronation; the miners, who smiled with awe and gratitude when they saw goblin’s gold; and brave girls like Delphine and Elodie, who helped me time and again, despite the danger. Whenthey had no reason to do so. When Rowenna gave them every reasonnotto trust or befriend me.
I want to help them. Iwillhelp them. And the first way I’ll do so is by removing this boy—who’s been lying, manipulating, and misusing their memories, just like his father—from the throne.
I stare down at the ruby, diamond, and quartz embedded in Alaric’s flesh. Three shiny berries, ripe for the picking. Yet, for some reason, my hand refuses to move.
I already stabbed him in the back. Cutting the gemstones from his wrist will hardly injure him more. But taking them doesn’t feel right. Not when he’s just lying there, offering them.
This was supposed to be a battle. I was supposed to be fighting for my life and country. Not stomping on a flower already snapped off at the stem.
“Fight me!” I scream down at Alaric. “Defend yourself!”
He chuckles, low and rattling. “How can I defend against a piece of my own heart?”
“Don’t say things like that. You don’t truly feel that way about me.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Alaric volleys back with surprising vehemence. The effort makes him collapse to his side, and he lowers his head into the puddle of gore seeping out around him—so red it’s nearly black.
In an almost inaudible whisper, he says, “Cut the gemstones out, or cut off my arm entirely. It doesn’t matter. It couldn’t hurt more than it already does.”
Tears fill his beautiful, infuriating eyes, and the way he’s staring up at me—with so much love and anguish, with so much admiration and disappointment—it’s clear he’s not only referring to the pain in his back.
My throat clogs with emotion, and for a moment I am frozen. Torn.
“If you won’t cut them out, I will.” With a painful wince, Alaric pushes up onto one elbow and reaches back with his other hand. Little flecks of blood wet his lips as he stretches and strains, panting with effort.
I watch him struggle in rapt horror, certain he won’t be able to free the knife. He’s too weak. The angle’s too awkward. But once again Alaric proves me wrong. With an anguished cry, he pries the blade free, unleashing a gush of even darker, faster-flowing blood.
Before my mind can process what my body’s doing, I lunge forward and knock the bloody knife from his grip.
“What are youdoing?” he roars with frustration. “This is what you wanted! What you planned! Finish the job.”
His fingers grapple for the knife, but it landed just out of reach. And the effort of freeing it took the last of his strength. He collapses into the spreading puddle of blood.
“Please, Indira. Do me this last kindness. Carve the gemstones out and end my suffering. I don’t have long, and their power could be affected if you wait until I’m dead.”
