His torment was agony. It shattered his mind, broke his soul, crushed his spirit. His ability to process anything had left him, even as he still cradled Matheo’s body on his lap, drenched inhis blood. Matheo, who’d deserved a life and happiness far more than he did.
Failure. Failure. Failure.
The word clanged through him, weaving into his bones, settling within his sinews.
His ears were ringing, but somewhere above the din, he could feel Andrian’s cries. Never in all the years they’d known each other had he heard that kind of sound from the usually silent, brooding man. He could feel the anguish rolling from him, filling the air, washing through the clearing.
He could feel it, because he felt it all the same. But his body had stopped working. He couldn’t move, couldn't breathe, couldn’t think.
Until Ciana stepped from that carriage, sobbing and scared and broken.
Sebastian saw the choice before him, as clear as any picture. He had nothing left to live for—nothing, beyond that beautiful girl with wild golden hair and suppressed magic in her veins. He could stay there, gripping tightly to his brother’s corpse until the crows picked the skin from his bones.
Or he could use whatever he had left to try protecting the girl he loved.
He knew what Matheo—what Mariah—would want him to do.
As gently as he could muster, Sebastian pushed Matheo’s body off his lap, resting him in the grass. He swiped his hands over his brother’s empty, lightless eyes, closing them for good.
He gripped the smooth hilt of his sword, pushing the tip into the earth. Somehow, with a strength he couldn't hope to identify, he rose to his feet.
The sword was heavy. Yet he had to do this. Andrian couldn’t do it, even though he was closer. Sebastian did not blame him for it.
He understood. Gods, he understood. He was falling to pieces inside, just the same.
But Ciana washis.
Sebastian took a single, lurching step forward, lifting the sword as he moved.
Kol turned to him, red-gold eyes burning. Hate swallowed Sebastian whole, consuming and crippling. That stare pinned him in place, halting his movements.
“I admire your fight, Armature. But I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The empty, broken hate smoldered. “You’ve won,” Sebastian croaked, his voice as fractured as he was. “You took my brother. You took my queen. You don’t need her, too. Just let her go.”
Kol sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that. It was a business arrangement. I can’t start my reign by breaking bargains with those loyal to me now, can I?”
Business arrangement. The words tore through Sebastian.
The dark god was talking about Ciana. Like she was nothing more than a piece of meat, a prized horse to be bargained and sold to the highest bidder.
It turned his stomach. It clawed at his throat. It shredded his mind.
“She’s not a fuckingbusiness arrangement,” Sebastian snarled, surprised by the fight in his voice. “She’s aperson. And the only way any of you are leaving with her is if you kill me first.”
He almost smiled at the flicker of fear in Lucas Blaise’s eyes. The boy clearly remembered the last time he’d faced Sebastian. The scar slicing through his upper lip ensured he’d never forget.
“If death is what you want, Armature, then I will be happy to oblige.” Kol sidled closer, placing himself firmly between Sebastian and the Blaise family. “But that would not serve my purposes here today. I need someone who is unquestionablyloyal to your queen to tell the world what has happened here. I need someone her supporters will not doubt. I need the continent to understand the consequences of resistance.” He lifted a dark brow. “I can’t kill you, Sebastian Riqueti, because I need you.”
Sebastian’s hate and rage boiled inside him. He was nothing, empty, save for this last, desperate bit of violence.
He spit in the grass at Kol’s feet. “I don’t give a fuck about your purposes. I would rather slit my own throat.”
Kol sighed again, as if he was somehow capable of empathy. “I know, Armature. I feel your broken hatred. I can taste how sweet it is. You no longer care for your own life, which truthfully, I can understand.” Kol glanced over his shoulder, where Ciana was still gripped tightly by her stepbrother. She’d fallen deathly still, golden skin drained of color, her freckles stark against her skin.
Lucas held the thin blade of a dagger to the smooth column of her neck. Something dark glinted in his eyes, something that felt like a knife to Sebastian’s own heart.
“But you still care for hers,” Kol continued. “And if you take a single step forward, if you lift your sword, if you try to do anything beyond kneeling for your new sovereign…she dies.”
