Chapter 14
“That’s not—” my voice broke, and I had to swallow before continuing. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then prove it. Stop hiding behind grief and guilt. The vision grows clearer now.”
Confusion flooded me. “What does that mean?”
“The sharper the vision becomes, the closer we are to its fulfilment. We do not have much time left.” Her words fell like the blows of a hammer, each one driving me deeper into panic.
I opened my mouth to speak—to beg, to scream—but she vanished, slamming the door of my mind so hard it rattled my bones.
I threw myself backwards, snatching my pillow and crushing it against my face.
“Fuck,” I whispered into the fabric. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I thrashed around in the sheets like a trapped animal. Fear clawed in my chest, hot and desperate, until I finally launched out of bed with enough force to make the frame groan.
“You can do this,” I huffed, but my voice shook with doubt. “You have to do this.”
I stomped towards the bathing chamber, stripping off the slip. It fell to the floor like a shed skin.
I sank until water lapped at my chin, then thumped my head back against the rim. I squeezed my eyes shut as I whispered a prayer to the Heavens—pointless as it was. Desperate as it sounded.
“Please.”
“I think we should—” Mira began, but I cut her off with a sharp shake of my head.
There was no time left to avoid the inevitable.
“I really need fresh air. I’m… I’m not feeling too great,” I stuttered, biting the inside of my cheek.
Mira’s hands stilled in my hair before moving with urgency.
“Sure, okay,” she rushed out, fingers flying as she secured my hair in a loose braid.
I couldn’t speak anymore. Each word sat heavy against my tongue. I hated being so short with her, especially when she looked at me like I might break apart. Once she finished, I didn’t bother to look at my reflection.
“Thank you,” I managed, squeezing her hand.
Theo, ever the light in the dark, walked ahead with Mira, his hands painting stories in the air as he spoke. She gazed at him like nothing else in the world existed, her laughter ringing out clear and bright.
I envied her as I trudged behind them like a shadow.
Tavrik fell into step beside me, his voice an anchor in the quiet. The deeper we ventured into the forest’s embrace, the more I noticed the delicate ferns unfurling along moss-covered logs. Above us, songbirds trilled their melodies, weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to follow our footsteps.
The scent of rich earth wrapped around me. I dragged air deep into my lungs, clinging to this fleeting peace as if it could drown the war raging in my blood.
The moment we reached the ceremonial ground, the world tilted.
Magic saturated the air like thick honey, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. The ground pulsed beneath our feet, as if the soil itself whispered ancient secrets through the soles of my shoes. Even the birds fell silent, as though even they could sense the lingering power.
I stepped forward until my toes touched the edge of the rough, time-worn stone, my gaze finding the exact spot where Dalkhan had stood.
A sharp sadness crashed over me.
He hated me now. Nothing I do will change that.
When the time came, I would do what must be done.
I closed my eyes, letting the strange calm of the forest wash over me. I reached deeper into myself than I had ever before dared—past fear, past doubt, and called for the stone.
The stone answered.
A powerful pulse surged through me, nearly sending me to my knees. It called my name—yanked at me with invisible hooks. My skin prickled, every nerve ending alight.
Tavrik’s body went rigid, his hand shooting out to steady me. He saw the terror written across my face—the battle that raged behind my eyes.
He curved an arm around me like a shield.
“I know you’re afraid,” he said softly, his breath warm against my ear. “I also know you have feelings for the king.”
My heart stopped dead in my chest.
“I—” The word died on my tongue.
“I see it in the way you look at him,” he said, his grip tightening but his expression calm. “And in the way he looks at you, when he thinks no one is watching.”
My hand flew to my mouth, as if I could physically catch the confession before it escaped. He didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know what I had done.
“It’s not—”
A sudden tremor shook the earth, sending loose rocks skittering across the ground. Tavrik and I locked eyes.
“Shit,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and yanking him behind a pillar.
The cold surface bit into my spine as a wave of power rolled through the clearing. The air shimmered like heat over desert sand. I pressed a palm against the ancient stone and peered around its edge.
Dalkhan.
He stood at the centre of the ceremonial grounds, flames licking across his bare chest, casting an amber glow on his skin. The fire craved destruction, burning with the same fury that lived in his veins.
Even from where I stood, heat pulsed over me in bursts.
Six robed figures surrounded him, their faces lost in the shadows of their hoods save for the occasional glint of an eye or a flash of teeth.
Dalkhan’s voice rang out, sharp in command.
“My patience bleeds away to nothing.” He paced in a tight circle. “When will it be done?”
One of the robed men melted into a low bow before responding. “We are working around remaining obstacles, my king.” His voice was oddly melodic, almost hypnotic. “But fear not, it will be done soon.”
Dalkhan exhaled an impatient breath. He raked a hand through his hair, the flames flaring brighter.
“Not soon enough,” he growled.
I pressed harder against the pillar, heart racing. I couldn’t risk being seen. I tugged Tavrik’s hand, nails digging into his flesh. He didn’t make a sound.
He understood the danger as much as I did.
Together, we backed away, careful not to snap a twig or disturb a leaf, until we were a safe distance from the ceremonial grounds.
The reality of what I’d just witnessed crashed into me. Zaheera was right. The Veil would fall, and I was running out of time.
As I turned to leave, something tightened around my throat. Dalkhan’s voice slipped into my mind, burning hot.
“Tell him to leave.”
I gasped, clutching at my neck, finding nothing but my own skin.
“Tavrik…” I kept my voice steady despite the pressure crushing my windpipe. “I… I want to be alone for a while. Just tell Mira I already went back.”
His eyes narrowed.
“No. I won’t leave you alone. It’s too dangerous.”
He stepped closer, scanning the trees.
“I’m not an idiot,” I snapped, pushing against his chest to stop his advance. “I just need a moment. The forest… it makes me feel at home.” I softened my tone, forcing a smile. “Please? I promise I’ll be back soon. I just need to clear my head.”
He studied me, searching for something. Maybe a sign of a lie. But my calm facade must have been convincing, because he reluctantly nodded.
“Fine, but don’t take too long.”
Relief washed over me as the pressure around my throat eased.
Tavrik disappeared into the trees, the sound of his footsteps fading until there was nothing but the whisper of leaves in the breeze.
I should’ve left too. Should’ve turned my back and pretended to have heard nothing. I should’ve run as fast and as far as my legs would carry me.
Instead, I walked straight into my own destruction, feet carrying me back toward the ceremonial grounds, drawn like a moth to a flame.
He was waiting.
The robed men were gone, leaving only Dalkhan, bathed in golden light, illuminating the hard planes of his face. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him as I stepped into the clearing.
Nine days of hell…
“Have you lost your mind?!” His roar shook the very foundations of the earth beneath my feet. “Bow!”
The command struck like a whip. I dropped my head, my braid falling forward as every muscle in my body locked up with terror.
His footsteps were thunderous.
“Why were you here?”
I kept my head bowed, my breathing shallow and quick. “I… I went for a walk with Tavrik.”
His grabbed my chin, his touch scorching, but tilted my face up with surprising gentleness.
Nine days of agony…
Our eyes collided and for one heartbeat, something cracked in his expression.
Then fury devoured it whole.
“You’re lying,” he said softly, more terrifying than any shout could be. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll drag it from you.”
Tears burned in my eyes, blurring his face. Not just from fear. From everything. From the impossible choice before me. From the heat of his touch, both terrifying and thrilling.
“I’m not lying,” I whispered, a tear trailing down my cheek. “I swear it.”
His grip tightened, eyes narrowing as they searched mine. Then he shoved me away, as if the very act of touching me disgusted him.
He turned his back. He was leaving.
No.
“Dalkhan, wait—”
The words hardly left my mouth before he whipped around, wrapping a hand around my throat and lifting me clean off my feet.
I clawed at his wrist, but he was unmovable. His grip burned, fire licking my skin as he slammed me against a pillar. The impact exploded through my back.
“Do not say my name!” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “You no longer have the right. Not after what you’ve done.”
Tears spilled freely from my eyes, wetting his fingers. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “Please… I can’t… breathe.”
For an eternity he held me suspended between life and death, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t give him.
My consciousness was slipping away like grains of sand in the wind.
Then he dropped me.
I hit the ground hard, my knees cracking against stone as I gasped and wheezed, drawing in great gulps of burning air. I could barely see through the tears—could barely think past the pain radiating from my back.
He turned away, pacing like a caged beast. Fury rolled off him in violent pulses, each step leaving scorched footprints behind.
“Why?” He raked his hands through his hair. “Why do you torment me? Why can’t I burn you out, no matter how hard I try?”