But already, loyal Vampires had spread out into the Ever Dark and throughout Earth to hunt down those who opposed them in their formerly hidden nests. While many had fled in advance of their coming, not everyone had been so quick. And each person they caught led them to more information, more locations, a better understanding of the Sect and its people. They hadn’t located all the Kalys–or the Roans–yet, but it was only a matter of time until they caught them all.
So Legion wasn’t necessary to them any longer. There was nothing stopping Ryder from giving them the Second Death that they so justly and richly deserved. Even if Ryder had felt an ounce of pity for them, it wouldn’t have mattered, because he knew–they all knew, even Legion knew–that Legion could not be allowed to go on. They were a monster. Literally. Figuratively. They couldn’t–or wouldn’t–control themselves even if their past acts could have been forgiven.
Yet he was still hesitating at the top of the dungeon’s stairs.
He felt the air stir behind him and the familiar scent of his king filled his nostrils. Daemon had a scent that was purely his,though Julian’s smell was now very similar. It reminded him of the Ever Dark itself. Cool, crisp with underlying warm notes.
They’d spoken only once since the loss of Forsworn. Since he had pieced himself back together. It had been a brief conversation, but Ryder could not have borne much more. He braced his hands against the walls as if he needed them to keep him upright. Was now the moment when Daemon would finally tell him how disappointed he was in what Ryder had done in the War? Would now come the recriminations that Daemon must have in his breast?
Ryder let out a long, slow breath. Being punished–finally–for his transgressions, his failings, his utter and completely contemptible actions would be a relief in some way. Then it could be over. Put in the past. He could be done with it.
“Legion is a representation of everything that I did wrong when you were away,” Ryder said to the empty air in front of him. “I should not get off so easily as to destroy them and go on by myself.”
“You find this easy?” Daemon’s voice was warm and sad.
Ryder hung his head. “Kaly was ill, but what is my excuse? I have none.”
“In war one must be ruthless. Half measures lead to failure. You know this,” Daemon reminded him. “You are my Soldier, not my representative of peace, Weryn.”
“But I attacked our brothers and sisters. I created disposable Children. It is because of me that there are so many broken Vampires now,” Ryder pointed out.
“War leaves scars.”
“You’re making excuses for me. You shouldn’t! I know that you must be angry.” Ryder shook his head. “So angry.”
There was a soft sound as Daemon let out a breath. Ryder’s shoulders tensed as if for a blow. Daemon had never hit them.Never used violence against them. It was unnecessary. Yet still he waited for that blow that he had earned.
“Are you angry with me, Weryn?” Daemon asked.
“Yes,” Ryder was surprised that the word slipped out. He was surprised that he felt anger. “No. I…”
“You are angry, because I left you all in the mess I did. But you understand why at the same time. So yes and no. Like you, I am angry about what happened. I am angry at myself for allowing it to happen. I am angry at all of you for making it happen,” Daemon admitted.
The hair on the back of Ryder’s neck lifted as he felt Daemon come near. He was shaking. Trembling. In this life, his father had once taken a belt to his back. Not just once. Many times. The physical scars had faded. But the mental ones had not. In some sick way, Lawson had been a continuation of the abuse he’d suffered under his father. Did he think Daemon would be yet another continuation of that toxic trend?
Daemon’s hands landed on his shoulders and he almost shrieked. But they were gentle. Daemon rested his forehead against the back of Ryder’s head. He felt the Vampire King’s warm breath.
“You are all my Children. My friends. My family. And I am bleeding out because of how much you suffered. How much youstillsuffer,” Daemon murmured.
Ryder turned his head but remained otherwise still. “We deserve to suffer.”
“No, no,” Daemon insisted. “Suffering is only good when it is useful to deter us from bad courses. Now your suffering just makes you hurt.”
“Suffering is punishment,” Ryder disagreed. “A just and right punishment.”
“No one who loves you would ever think that. And I love you, Weryn,” Daemon told him. “You are precious to me. All of youare. And I am so sorry that I allowed my pain to blind me to your need for me.”
Ryder slowly reached back and covered one of Daemon’s hands with his one. His eyes burned and his chest and throat were tight with emotion.
“Just before I died,” Ryder got out, his voice thick, “before Roan put me in that soul gem, we were at your tomb. And I…”
“Yes?”
“Daemon, I wanted to go to you. I wanted to beg you to wake up and fix everything. I wanted you to help me undo it all. All the death. All of our people,” Ryder swallowed.
It was so painful. His throat felt like he was swallowing cut glass.
“I dreamed of you,” Daemon whispered. “It seems I was not really dreaming.”
