30. Wrathful Sorrow #2
The High Lady studied me, her catlike eyes narrowing, causing a delicate crease to form on her brow.
The movement cracked a line through some of the dried beast blood on her face, and a strand of her dark hair sprang free from where it had been plastered onto her temple.
“I suppose,” she began slowly, “you are correct.”
I held her gaze, brimming with questions.
“I never did believe him when he told me you used light magic to kill that Banshee.”
A miserable laugh drifted up through my chest, popping like a bubble at the base of my throat. “I never did believe him when he told me I killed it.”
In a whir of black and gold, the High King appeared before me, kneeling on the ground.
His hair was dishevelled, splattered with green and black blood, and his face was covered with dirt, soot, and a look of exhaustion.
The colour in his eyes had dimmed to a barely noticeable yellow, like the sun through a thin sheet of cloud.
“Bookworm—”
Lucais didn’t get to finish his sentence because, a second later, Wrenlock appeared in a furious gust of air a few steps away, and then he lunged at the High King.
He tackled him to the ground, and I barely had the time to pull my legs back so they didn’t get caught up in their tussle.
Wrenlock pinned Lucais beneath him, and the High King stared up at him with an expression of confusion and disgust reshaping his features moments before the Hand punched the look off his face.
“What the fuck?” Wrenlock shouted, gripping him by the collar of his tattered and bloodstained shirt. “You save her! You always save her!”
The High King shoved Wrenlock onto the ground with a grunt of revulsion and sat up, wiping saliva and blood from where it had dripped down from his nose and mouth onto his chin.
He didn’t even spare his friend a glance before he looked directly at me, resting his elbows on his knees, feet flat on the ground, breathing heavily.
Look. The fucking bastard was cornered by a hundred caenim from all different angles, he informed me through our mental bond.
I stifled a sigh of relief that it was well and truly still intact.
They’d only just finished pouring out of the shadows.
At least a dozen were at his throat, many more at his back…
I was having flashbacks to you in that field, honestly.
I figured that I’d probably regret it if I let him die, and even if I didn’t regret it on account of myself, then you were going to make me regret it if I pulled you out of there and you found your lover boy with his heart cut out on the ground behind me.
I rolled my eyes at him to conceal the way I gagged at the thought of Wrenlock—of any of them—being one of the bodies with missing organs on the ground.
I took a single eye off you for a split second , he went on, and blasted the damned things back to the pit of evil they’d crawled out of before they did as much to him.
But I had a hand on you at all times, and if I’d lost that, I would have gone in after you.
They couldn’t possibly fight me off forever, little beast. I would have ripped them apart and followed you inside their remains.
He held my stare, weighing my reaction heavily. Nothing would have kept me out.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded because I knew he was telling the truth.
I’d felt the phantom of his hand on me at all times while I was inside of the maze.
I’d leaned on it for all of its strength as I’d tried to fight my way back out.
Between the two of us, I had no doubt we would have eventually met each other somewhere inside of the dark.
I glanced at Wrenlock, who was crouched down and glaring at us like he hoped I was shouting profanities at the High King through our bond, but he didn’t believe that I was. “It’s okay,” I told him. His expression tightened. “I’m okay.”
I wasn’t, but it was not because of Lucais.
Wrenlock turned his head away to release an almighty breath and rose to stand. Gesturing to the necropolis, he said, “The fuck are we going to do with all of this?”
Morgoya patted my shoulder gently before doing the same thing. “Well,” she said with a grunt, “I think maybe a fire…”
I heard you shouting , the High King whispered into my mind while our three companions debated the best course of action for cleaning up the disaster we’d created.
I was surprised they were even considering tidying it up, given the mess was inside a place they’d aptly named the Ruins.
What did you mean when you said it’s not you?
A flash of death, destruction, and devastation assaulted my mind.
I dropped my eyes to my hands, folded in my lap, and showed it to him to the best of my abilities.
To my surprise, the pictures were murky and vague, like memories of a dream, though I’d only recently had the very real experience firsthand.
I don’t think they want me to rule them.
The Court of Darkness isn’t coming back from this.
They want to be destroyed. They want to find the thing more permanent than the dark, more final than death.
Nothingness. The end of creation. I think they want me to let them out.
I don’t think they want me to save them.
But they do want you.
Yes.
Then they’re not going to stop until they take you from me. Regardless of whether they mean for you to save them or destroy them, the call of power from one of the Elements and its Court is impossible to resist.
I won’t answer it , I insisted. I have no business there. I never want to go back again.
Wrenlock theorised that the lapsus was a symptom of a much bigger problem, and I knew without a doubt that he was right. The lapsus was a symptom of the world ending. Faerie was dying, and the malediction started in the heart of Blythe’s Court.
The High King climbed to his feet and walked over to me, helping me rise with his hands underneath my arms. He kept one hand there while he slipped the other behind my knees, lifting me into his arms and holding me tightly against his chest. Without a backwards glance at our friends and the fires they were trying to start, Lucais began to carry me to where the unicorns were waiting for us near the copse of trees with flaky bark.
Elera trotted over to us as soon as she noticed our approach, and I didn’t have the energy to shrug her off when she began to use her large, hot tongue to clean up the blood, sweat, and dirt on my face. As thoroughly disgusting as it was for me, I knew it was a gesture of kindness from her.
We’ll see, bookworm . The High King’s grave reply was significantly delayed. We’ll see.