Page 59 of Claimed By the Depths

“Kael, you can’t…” Syoran started as he curled his fingers around my arm. “You cannot stay here. Not with the arrival of the Royal Guard. They will take you back⁠—”

“You know the rest”—Alastair trained his gaze on me—“and we both damn well know it is not how Percival would wish for you to die.”

I lunged forward, my lips curling back into a snarl. “You will not use him against me like that!”

“Ace,” Leilani pleaded, settling a hand on her lover’s chest. “Don’t.”

“Am I fucking wrong?” Alastair pressed, striations dancing along his jaw. “He bartered his life for yours consistently. Do you truly believe he would be fond of you remaining here, in the mounting rise of danger? Or would he have been adamant on your return to the ship? Because the man I remember⁠—”

“You do not know him, so you will not sit here and act as if you do!” My shoulders rose and fell with my wavering breath, tremors rocking my frame. “Percy fought for me, not against me, and there was never an instant when he wouldn’t take my thoughts, feelings, and advice into consideration.”

A voice cut through the brief gap in an attempt to get our attention. “Uh, guys…”

“I know him damn well enough to recognize that, in a situation like this, he would want you to live instead of⁠—”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” I screamed, tears butting up against my waterline.

“GUYS!” That feminine fire had returned, Sapphira’s cadence carving through our quarrel.

“What?!” Alastair and I growled simultaneously, our narrowing glares sweeping to her.

She gestured toward the shore, just off from where Hollow Lantern resided.

An eyeless and blunt-snouted head snapped forward, closing its maw around a black mass. Her long limbs rose, webbed fingers coiling around the creature she’d claimed as her meal. With one yank, flesh tore from bone as she indulged in her feast. Only once she was done did she toss the remnants of the unknown being aside, her tendrils slithering out of the water to gather the carcass and crush it beneath her tentacles until only dust remained.

Yxalune. The Seven-Headed Terror of the Deep.

Her arrival meant only one thing, and the words that slipped from me were all I offered the others before I broke into a sprint in the direction from which she had risen.

“Rohen is down there.”

CHAPTER 33

Home

CASPIAN

Where fury once stood in unwavering opposition, it worked alongside me in the form of the woman I failed to rid myself of.

Rohen Levitte was a tumultuous storm of fire and wrath, woven together by years of violated boundaries and silenced pleas. She was the harbinger of desolation, someone far too many underestimated, and it showed in the way she wielded a blade. With her knuckles white around the hilt, and the deep furrow of her brows paired with the bloodlust clinging to her emerald irises, it all became clear.

Even in refusal, the truth was unavoidable. The way she held herself, moved with no utterance of apology, and killed without remorse mirrored my essence and all I had wanted in my other half. I had denied it for as long as I was able, but as we fought side by side instead of as each other’s adversaries, our combat against our enemies and each brush of our bodies proved my resistance a falsehood.

She had been crafted for me, and damn the gods, I had fallen the moment her touch grazed my skin.

Ignoring the deep throb spreading across my back, as well as the paired leaking wound in my shoulder, I ducked beneath Malrik’s sword. The breeze of his steel ghosted over my flesh, but the closeness of its sharpened edge only ignited my hunger for death.

My abrupt shift had been a ploy, one that granted me the ability to reach for her. Curling two fingers through one of Rohen’s belt loops, I tugged, drawing her toward me. Even though she was unaware of my intention, she responded in kind, flipping her weapon to obtain an overhand grip before it collided with Malrik’s.

He snarled in response, but mine devoured his pitiful display of dominance as my saber caught the dagger Vrax intended to bury in Rohen’s neck. As I fell inches from Vrax, her mouth curled to emphasize her elongated smile, her scarlet irises gleaming with enjoyment.

“There you are, Son of Elaros.”

Expression twisting to mirror hers, I chuckled. “I do not believe I am the one you should pay heed to.”

Before the dark deity could reply, I solidified my hold on Rohen once more. With what felt like a practiced pivot, I tugged, and we spun, our refined blades riding the length of the steel they opposed. Sparks kindled in answer to the pressure, and as Malrik fell back in my line of sight, the tip of his sword inches from the cobblestone, I drove my heel into his chest.

As he stumbled, I darted forward, and the words that fled me carried potent mockery. “Running away so soon, Ravelle? You’re quite the pathetic opponent when your weapon is devoid of poison.”