The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

V en swallowed hard, the golden column of his throat bobbing as he gave a single nod from where he was trapped beneath her.

“You’ve seen who my father is. What he is. Maybe there was a time when he wasn’t the monster he is now,” he said with a shake of his head, “but I only knew the ruthless male my mother fled. Weeks after we arrived at Ravenstone, I witnessed the aftermath of my father’s wrath for the first time. He left guards, servants, anyone he suspected who had helped my mother escape at the wardlines, tied to trees—facing the East . . . What they did to the humans was worse."

She recalled what he'd told her, the bloodshed at their border—but it wasn't until now that she understood his father had been responsible for all of the death. Why he was telling her this now . . . she didn't dare question the pieces of his history he was finally offering her.

“Decades later, war broke out," he continued. "I’d just been chosen as Commander by my fellow Wraiths, and we knew the brutal, bloody battles that would be ahead of us when we sided with the humans. And I knew that eventually I'd meet my father on the battlefield." His voice rumbled through her, low, detached. As if he were telling someone else's story. "He started hunting down my mother's people along with any other half-breeds . . . leaving them for me to find."

Breath caught in her throat at the brutal words, but Ven plowed on. "It was meant to bait me. Meant to beat me down even as we were winning . . . because I knew that he would always leave me alive." He let out a halting breath. "I went into every battle ready to finally face him—ready to kill him.” He swallowed hard. “Until my mother confessed the burden of my blood, what would await me should I succeed.”

She stifled a shudder, hardly daring to move—to breathe as anguish filled his eyes.

“You’ve seen the crown my father wears," he uttered.

It had appeared as nothing more than twisted metal to her, but he’d spoken of the power it bestowed on his father, enough power that it kept what remained of his court submissive.

The pulse at his throat hammered. "Every heir in the Nostari’s long and bloody history has been doomed to wear it—doomed to wield its ancient, terrible magick." The look in his eyes was haunted now. "I scoured every book in Ravenstone’s library for answers to its power, searching for a way to refuse it, a way to destroy it. But the blood crown is far older than our histories. There are few records of it, but all of them are clear on one thing," he said. "Fate always finds a way to ensure it falls to its rightful heir."

A cold sweat slicked her skin, nothing to do with the chilled air whipping across the Ledge as his words sunk in.

"All magick exacts a price. And it seems the price the crown demands is the bearer’s soul—carved away over time until there is nothing left," he uttered. “And so I fought every battle as if it were my last—thinking that at least I might die a hero in my people’s eyes before that fate could befall me. I was a madman . . . suicidal."

The Black Veil of the Battlefield. There was a reason he'd earned the title and the fear it inspired, even amongst a ruthless people like the Nostari.

"And Karro,” he gave a rueful laugh, “Karro refused to leave my side, going into the worst of the fighting without a single thought.”

As he always had. As he always would, she thought.

Ven's voice grated as he said, “And then one night, we had been in the thick of fighting, lost in the haze of killing—" his eyes flared with captured rage. "And I saw her, and him .” His voice grew heavy with the weariness of reliving a moment and being powerless to change its outcome. “You’ve seen the scar my father bears.” His finger traced the left side of his neck. “It was the price he paid for breaking his blood oath to my mother when he cut her down."

She flinched at the words. A harsh, bitter truth.

"It was then that I knew," he whispered, "there was nothing left of my father's soul. Whatever my mother once saw in him died long ago, maybe she’d only ever imagined it." His eyes darkened, sadness in their depths. "Whether it was Fate forcing their destinies together or something more, I'll never know. But I think she loved him—even until the end.”

He closed his eyes, seeming to blink away the memory. “For three hundred years I’ve held together what was left of my mother’s people—this kingdom. For three hundred years, magick waned and I was . . . alone. I never let anyone get too close, never allowed myself to see a future beyond what I already had. Karro, Nira, Seth, Embra . . .” He listed their names like a prayer. “They were more than a bastard like me deserved in this life, so I counted myself lucky and didn’t wish for more. And year after year . . . when I never felt that pull that Nira had described, it was a relief that at least I’d never burden someone else with my fate.”

His eyes raised to hers, flecks of black and gold glimmering in the crimson. “And then a whisper of magick spoke to me through the wind. Through my restless sleep and in my waking hours—for years. Until one day, I was nearly brought to my knees with the force of it . . . Power that spoke to my own.” He shook his head, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself. “I felt your magick awaken. Something different, like myself."

Something cracked behind his expression, shattering the veneer of control. "And from the moment I saw you,” he whispered, “I wanted you beyond reason. Beyond logic and sense.” His eyes fell to her lips. “I compelled all of those people to forget me—just to have the chance to be near you."

Her thoughts drifted to that night in the Capitol, when no one else had remembered the handsome stranger she'd danced with.

"It was reckless. Thoughtless," Ven continued, "But even then, I think something in me recognized the power that burned brightly in you. Too much for others to understand—" His deep voice was rough with emotion. “But I felt like I knew you in my soul.”

She’d felt the same about him. Some pull to him that she hadn’t understood at the time. Something that transcended all rational thought.

“Then the night that Asmodeous broke through the wards, I realized I hadn't been the only one drawn to your power . . . And then I found you, half-dead in the Shades."

She still remembered the feel, the scent of his shadows soothing her as he'd taken her to the safety of Ravenstone.

"I tried to stay away," he murmured like an apology. "I told myself that once you went into stasis and had control over your magick, I would take you back." He hesitated, and she could feel the ratchet of his heartbeat beneath her. "At first I hated that you were forced to stay here against your will—but then I found myself grateful for the fact that I had an excuse to keep you.” He swallowed hard. “And then I watched you slowly come to life before me, like maybe you could find your place here with us. And you looked at me like—like I wasn’t something other. ”

He exhaled a ragged breath. “I think—deep down—I knew we were Bound, but it wasn’t until I tasted your blood that I was certain.” His gaze drifted to the side of her neck, drawing a flush across her skin. "And long before that I found myself . . . falling in love with you. Hating myself for how selfish it made me. So I decided to take it to my grave rather than burden you with that choice—with the knowledge of what awaits me."

His eyes met hers as she finally let out a breath. “That’s why you told me there was no future for us," she said softly. "That you had nothing to offer me."

Ven's face paled as she threw his words back at him.

“I couldn't tether you to my fate." His voice was soft, pleading. "I knew even before we left Eisenea that I would have to let you go . . . but then you asked to return, and I never could have denied you. I told myself that it was everything you wanted," he murmured. "That you would go back to your existence, and I could attempt to go back to the life I’d had here. Without you.”

He’d been as heartbroken as she’d felt that night. Torn between the duty to her family and her own happiness here.

“So you found a way for me to go back to my old life,” she whispered. “You freed me."

He barked out a harsh laugh. “You would never have been free of me. It nearly drove me mad to leave you in the human realm—to watch you go back to that life,” he bit out. “It wasn’t out of altruism that I found a way for you to exist there." The words were bitter, as if he hated himself for them. "It was a way for me to keep a foothold in your world.”

His gaze lifted to hers, unflinching. “I was noble enough to let you go back to your life—to him —but I’m well aware of human lifespans.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “I knew eventually he would die, and you would continue on. And maybe—” he whispered coldly, “ just maybe , you would return. Whether it was in fifty years or two hundred—I didn’t care.” His words were sharp as the edge of a blade as he breathed, “Because I would wait. And I would endure."

The ruthlessness of the blood that ran through his veins was evident right now. A crimson storm raging behind his eyes—a sliver of the male who had claimed her, had killed for her—rising to the surface.

"I knew I could never offer you a happy future—not with the destiny that hangs over my head. But maybe I could witness your happiness from afar . . . if you found someone else." His voice dropped to a low rumble, the fire in his eyes banking to embers. “But even once Lanthius sealed the wards—when I knew you were safe—I couldn’t. Fucking. Leave.”

Just as there had been something tugging her feet toward the mirror. Back to him.

Heavy silence blanketed the small space between them before she finally whispered, “And if I hadn’t come back?”

She met his gaze, the black of his pupils receding and letting the red surface again, the fierceness from before softening as he replied, “I would have died just trying to be near you once more.”

Her heart thundered at the confession, smothering the anger that still burned there.

“One day,” Ven uttered, “whether it is by my hand or some other lucky bastard’s—my father will die, and the crown will pass to me.” Despair darkened his eyes. “And when that happens, I fear that I will not even recognize myself.”

When . Not if.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The image of Ven sitting in his father’s monstrous throne—blood trailing down his temples from the jagged iron . . .

“That is not your fate,” she commanded, hands gripping his biceps. He may have given over to whatever he believed his future to be, but she knew him . She knew that he could never become that.

His eyes lifted to hers, shattered. “It is a curse that will hound me for the rest of my life, Aurelia,” he finally rasped.

And that was the crux of it.

Ven believed himself doomed to be his father. And he believed her doomed to live out his mother’s fate.

A fate bound to his.

Undeniable. Irrefutable.

Ven’s voice was hushed when he finally spoke again. “My scars are bared to you.” He lifted his palms in surrender. “You’ve seen what I am. The kind of blood that runs through my veins . . . You know the fate that awaits me.”

True, she’d glimpsed the part of him that came from his father. The lengths he would go to protect the people he loved . . . But that had never frightened her. Because she saw that part of him, and recognized it in herself.

The family that he had made for himself at Ravenstone. The kind of male and leader he had chosen to be. The warmth and loyalty and love that surrounded them in the home he had created. Those were the true markers of who Ven was.

She cupped his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You are more than that—you are not him .”

“If dozens of males had stepped forward to challenge my claim to you—hundreds—I would have killed them all," he growled. "Without question. Without remorse.”

Brutal honesty. It’s what she’d come to expect from him. What she had craved her entire life—to simply be given the truth, no matter how dark, how gruesome it was.

His hands gripped her waist tighter, as if she were the only thing anchoring him to solid ground. “And selfish prick that I am, I just wanted to know that for a moment— just a moment —you were mine, and I was yours," he whispered. "And if my father had accepted my blood oath in exchange for your freedom,” the golden column of his throat bobbed, “that moment with you would have been enough.”

It does not need to mean anything beyond these walls.

His words rang clearer now, dredging up the small detail he’d told her.

“We never swore the blood oath,” she murmured.

“I never would have damned you to that fate . . . to me,” he rasped.

The words tore through her, devastation still written plainly in his eyes.

She wanted to be angry at him, and she was . . . But she understood why he couldn’t tell her the truth in that place. A place that reminded him of everything he hated about himself.

And her heart shattered for him—that he believed himself so unworthy.

“I deserved to know,” she whispered. “I was a bystander to my own life for as long as I can remember, and I will not allow anyone to choose for me—not anymore.”

His hold on her loosened, his shoulders dropping back to the hard stone floor as he looked up at her. “I meant what I said, Ari—what happened between us . . . I’ll never speak a word of it if that is your command. You can live out your days here at Ravenstone, and I’ll ask nothing more of you. This place is your home as much as mine, and you are free to do as you wish— as you have always been.” The torment was evident in the raw edges of his words even as he said them.

Reaching out her hand, she brushed a lock of ebony hair from his face, watching as his coal-colored lashes fluttered shut at her touch. He went rigid beneath her, holding his breath. As if whatever she did next had the power to bind him or break him completely.

“We might be Bound,” she murmured, “but I choose you. I claim you—here and now. Regardless of Fate’s hand in it.”

Relief smoothed over Ven's brow as breath tore through him. His crimson eyes raked over her face, as if he was trying to etch this moment into his memory. "I roamed this world for three hundred years, alone, until your spark of magick reached out to mine." He reached up, his touch hesitant as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “There is not a single lifetime or a thousand where I would not find you—where my soul would not recognize yours.”

And in that moment—she believed in Fate, after all.