Page 11 of Water and Wild

“It’s not really about glory,” he said quietly.

“No shit.” She rolled her eyes. “Because ‘for glory and country’ sounds like something you rehearsed in the mirror this morning.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “You’re not wrong.”

“You think this is somehow your duty?” she spat. “I guarantee it is not. This is a choice you are making. That the king would choose to send his only nephew through the Gate is unfathomable enough, let alone that your mother would agree to this insanity.”

His jaw tightened. “Someone needs to claim the crown.”

“The other champions ride for the Lost City as we speak, already willing and wanting to take on the Crucible. Let them throw their lives away! Why does it have to be you?”

“The other champions . . .” He sighed. “Arcanis needs that power, and we need someone worthy to wield it. With the crown, we can fix everything. We can fill the Chasms that split the continent apart, we can banish the darkness and restore the balance and⁠—”

Elyria’s fingers twitched at her sides. Darkness. “You expect me to believe this is about balance? The greater good for Arcanis?” She took another step toward him, her voice rising. “Give me a fucking break.”

Evander sighed, raking a hand through his curls. “Elyria⁠—”

“You’ve deemed yourself worthy, then? You think you’ll be the first and only person to ever make it out of the Sanctum alive? What makes you so special?” Her tone was icy, venom dripping from every word, even as shame crept through her gut at the flash of hurt in his eyes. Still, she didn’t stop. “You think you can pull off a miracle? That only you can win the crown?”

Evander exhaled sharply, rotating his shoulders like he was trying to roll something off them. His patience was starting to fray. “I think I have to try.”

Elyria barked a humorless laugh. “Why?”

His golden eyes flashed but he didn’t reply.

It took everything in her to keep from screaming. “That’s not your responsibility! You don’t have to—” She cut herself off, breathing hard, struggling to tamp down the shadows stirring in her gut. “It’s not dishonorable to choose to live, Evander.”

His expression softened. “Elle.”

She hated how gentle he sounded. How resigned. She wanted anger, rage, fire. She wanted him to fight. Fight to stay. Fight for them. Fight for⁠—

Elyria’s breath hitched, an understanding of everything he wasn’t saying crashing down on her all at once. This was him fighting for her. If she wasn’t like this, if her inner darkness wasn’t such a threat, if she hadn’t lost control yesterday, he wouldn’t⁠—

“I didn’t just decide this,” he said, voice low, as if he knew the exact path her thoughts were heading down. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. Planning for it.” Evander pinched a loose strand of Elyria’s periwinkle hair between his fingers, then tucked it behind her ear. “I’m tired of doing nothing. Of watching you struggle, watching you suffer. ”

She turned her head, dipping her chin, her eyes downcast. She couldn’t look at him.

“You’ll forgive me,” he said. “One day.”

“You think you can fix this if you win,” she finally whispered. “Fix me.”

Evander’s jaw tensed. “I think I can help.”

Elyria swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “And if you don’t come back?”

His expression didn’t waver. “Then at least I’ll have tried.”

There was suddenly not enough air. Elyria’s chest rose and fell too fast. He wasn’t even gone yet, but still she felt the loss of him like a lash across her back—a biting pain. Black smoke coiled at the edges of her vision. A familiar darkness curled at the tips of her fingers.

He saw it.

It didn’t scare him.

It should have.

“Evander,” she whispered, voice raw, pleading.

He slipped his hand into hers, wisps of shadow dancing over their skin as he laced their fingers together. “Just breathe, Elle. It’s all going to be okay.”