Andrian lifted his sword. Leveled the sharpened tip at his father’s chest.
Julian swallowed, the only outward sign that he may not be as unaffected as he tried to appear.
“I know you will never understand,” Julian whispered, the crowd falling into a silent hush. “But I always did what I had to do for my family. For my country. I will not apologize for protecting what I love.”
“Protecting the things you love doesn’t mean destroying the things you don’t,” Andrian snarled, the point of his sword digging into Julian’s chest. A bead of blood welled to the surface, staining the front of his dirty gray tunic.
Julian smiled sadly. “Yes. I could just be more like you and destroy everything. Including the things I’d give anything to save.” He leaned forward, the sword point slicing into more of his skin, but he didn’t flinch.
“You will always be cursed, Andrian. Your existence is an abomination. Your queen will never be safe from you. Whatever happiness you might imagine for yourself will never be yours.”
End this. Snuff him out. Show yourself what you can do.
With a desperate snarl of rage, Andrian sank the sword into his father’s heart.
The foreign frenzydissipated as Andrian’s blade slid between Julian’s ribs. Everything plummeted, leaving him hollow and reeling as the Laurent lord’s lifeblood poured over his bare hands.
Andrian wavered, blinking against the loss of fury. He sank to his knees.
Julian still looked at him, golden eyes blown wide, hands shaking as they lurched to his chest. As if he could stop his blood from pulsing from the wound.
Andrian’s aim was true. Each beat of Julian’s heart only served to further shred the soft muscle, blood bubbling up his throat and into his mouth.
Andrian let go of the sword. His hands landed on his thighs, palms up.
What have I done?
Julian blinked furiously. He gritted his teeth and leaned forward.
“Never…free…” He choked on his blood, his words a garbled mess.
But Andrian heard them.
With one final muffled groan, Julian Laurent slumped forward and did not rise again.
A terrible silence settled over the hall, and a ringing slowly filled Andrian’s head. One of shock and gut-wrenching realization.
He had done this.
He’d never killed before. He’d threatened and hurt and maimed but had never taken that final step. He’d always resisted it, terrified of what it would do to his already shadow-tainted soul.
The voice that had been whispering to him wasn’t his. He’dknownit wasn’t his. Yet he’d listened to it anyway, let it sweep him away and stain his hands with sins he’d never be able to wash away.
He’d always hated his father. But despite everything, despite all the ways he knew he was cursed, he’d never believed himself capable of murder.
Not just murder.Patricide.
Yet here he knelt, blood pooling around him, a mirror to his ruined soul.
A hand rested on his shoulder, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching.
“I know this was not easy for any of you. For so long, we believed Lord Laurent to be one of us.” Kol’s smooth words slid around him like a coiled snake, as venomous as the tendrils still brushing Andrian’s mind. A sickly reminder of what Kol was and of what he could do.
Andrian had never felt such an urgent, helpless loathing for himself as what he felt now.
His father—Julian—had been right. For as long as Andrian lived, he would be cursed. There was no escaping the influence of his creator, not when every shadowy part of himself cried out for the darkness of the sun.
Mariah’s magic might have severed Kol’s ability to inhabit Andrian’s body, but he’d fallen to the dark god’s power all the same.
