“I knew him. Nem,” Ereshkygall says, her eyes glazing with that faraway sheen that she gets when speaking of the past. “Such loyal fighters, both he and Illaria. Swore their lives in blood to protect my secrets.”
“Five generations of my family have done so,” Sariah answers. “The Order carried your legacy, awaiting the awakening of the prophesied savior, recruiting believers who would fight on the right side of history in the upcoming war. In the name of Akaori and Aeon.”
“So you indeed knew,” I murmur.
I don’t even know why I’m surprised at this point. Of course she would know, as the leader of the Order entrusted to prepare for our rebirth. It seems we were the only ones left in the dark.
“We knew the meaning of the prophecy, yes, my brother and I. It was our sole mission, to ensure it came to fruition.”
“And nobody thought to enlighten me in one thousand years?” Killian snaps next to me, his fists clenching. “Could have saved this realm a world of suffering, don’t you think?”
“They couldn’t have, Ri,” Ereshkygall answers calmly, making Killian flinch at the nickname. “For this to work, you two needed to love each other in this lifetime too. Not because you knew, butdespite not knowing.”
“Fucking depths of hell,” he mutters before storming out of the room, the door rattling on its hinges in his wake.
“Don’t mind him,” Blaise says, breaking the ensuing silence. “He tends to be overly dramatic in his displeasure.”
I have half a mind to follow him, and as Ereshkygall asks about the Order and Sariah throws herself into an excited tirade about the Dark Umbras and their extensive network of spies, I slip from the chamber quietly, searching for Killian. My steps carry me on instinct toward his bedroom, as if by an invisible tether that allows me to sense his whereabouts.
He’s sulking on the massive bed draped in black silk, a goblet of bloodwine dangling from his fingertips, his hair disheveled from his constant pulling at the roots.
“This tastes like utter shit,” he says, flinging the goblet and spilling the crimson liquid on the plush carpet at his feet.
“Then drink from me, my love.”
I bring my wrist to his lips, straddling his hips and resting my forehead against his own. “I’m here, Killian. I’ve got you.”
His fangs sink into my vein without a second thought, his possessive growl reverberating through my chest as he feasts on me. A wave of euphoria washes over me, gone way too soon as he removes his canines and licks the wound closed.
We stay like that for a heartbeat or two, lost in each other and our own tumultuous thoughts.
“I wish I wouldn’t understand her reasoning, Aimee,” he finally says. “Then I could cling just a bit longer to my rage, for all the lives that were lost.”
“Cling to it anyway, Killian. That rage is the fuel we need to face what’s coming our way. You’re entitled to it. Just aim it at the real perpetrator here. My fucking sister.”
“I can’t help feeling unworthy of the shoes I’m suddenly filling. To beher.To fulfillher destiny.”
“There’s not one soul that would be more worthy than you, Killian,” I say earnestly, pressing a ghost of a kiss to his lips.
“Whatever have I done, little umbra, to deserve you?” he whispers against my throat, his chilled breath raising goosebumps on my flesh.
“In this life, plenty. In our previous? I’m sure Ereshkygall can reminisce about it if we ask.”
He chuckles, moving slightly to brand me with his onyx gaze, a bottomless darkness that used to terrify me, but now warms me up inside with the endless love swimming in its sable depths.
“I love you, Aimee. In this lifetime. In the previous. In the next thousand ones. It’s the only certainty I have in a reality that is falling around us like a deck of flimsy cards.”
His mouth is upon me in the next breath, his fangs piercing my neck, and I close my eyes in rapture, willing time to stop and give us just this moment of reprieve.
Chapter 28
Aimee
“Comeon,Aimee,youasked for this. Hit me with your best shot,” Sariah giggles, bouncing on her feet in the middle of the training hall, and wiggling her finger at me in a come-hither motion.
“I proposed we spar, not this,” I say, watching her movements with weary eyes. She’s twirling a thin blade between her fingers, with the poised grace of a lethal panther.
“We did that already. It’s boring, and it’s not what you’ll face against your sister.”
