“And are we not?” I ask.
“Perhaps,” he says. “But even a piece can move.”
I watch him carefully.
“Nothing in this world has ever changed because someone accepted it quietly,” he continues. “Empires fall because someone resists. Tyrants lose their crowns because someone dares to challenge what appears inevitable.” His gaze sharpens. “That is why I support the opposition.”
After a brief pause, he continues.
“If Charles’s bargain determines your end,” he says, “then it also determines ours. It would mean he cannot be dethroned. That his line cannot be broken, that our efforts are meaningless.”
“And you do not believe that?”
“I cannot believe that,” he corrects softly. “If I did, I would despair. And despair is the only true victory the devil ever claims.”
His words settle into me slowly.
“So you think there is room,” I say, “to change what was promised.”
“I think,” he replies, “that bargains made in fear can be undone by courage.”
The chapel is very quiet.
“And if I am the soul the devil has been waiting for?” I ask.
He holds my gaze without flinching.
“Then you must decide whether you will walk to that altar willingly,” he says, “or whether you will force Heaven and Hell alike to reconsider.”
I look once more at the cracked iron door, at the mark Charles left behind in his rage, and I understand something I did not before.
He is afraid.
Of losing his throne, of losing his legacy, of losing the bargain. And fear makes men reckless.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. As I leave the chapel, I do not feel safer than before, but I no longer feel passive. If my path was written before I was born, then perhaps it is time I begin editing it.
Chapter 33
Ihave them brought to the throne room because it is the one place no one expects intimacy.
When I enter, they are already there.
Rowan stands near one of the pillars, arms folded. Aileen sits stiffly at the long table, twisting her fingers together. Ashford…no, Malric, stands apart from the others, as though uncertain what his position is in this construct.
He does not know what to do; I can see it written across his face.
So I decide for him.
I cross the room, take his face in my hands, and kiss him. It is not careful or poetic, it is overdue.
Aileen gasps sharply behind me and then laughs into her hand.
Rowan exhales loudly. “Fucking finally.”
Ashford’s hands come to my waist instinctively before he seems to remember where we are. When we part, he is smiling in a way I have not seen in days.
“I missed you,” he says quietly.
