Chapter 33
Serafina
I watch Jax reach for his shirt. With his back to me, my eyes trace his many scars, but then they snag on what looks to be…no…that can’t be right…that can’t be…
But it is.
My heart thunders, drowning out all sound, all noise, a painful thrumming in my ears the only thing I hear.
Some of the scars…they weren’t there the last time I saw his back. I’m sure of it.
My face heats with rage.
Jax turns, his lips pursing as he takes in my face.
“It was nothing,” he whispers, pulling the black shirt over his head, dark like the shadows he wields, matching his hair and hugging his muscled frame.
“When?” I demand because I need to know. I need him to confirm the horrific thoughts wreaking havoc on my mind.
“You know when.”
Fuck.
“Because of me?” My voice breaks. It breaks because in order for this to have happened, Jax had to let it happen. He’s stronger than his father, his shadows and light a power the king could never dream of possessing.
Which means Jax allowed him to whip him. He allowed him to beat him, to torture him.
“And I’d let him do it again, and again, and again if it meant you’d get to live. So wipe that fucking look off your face, Nova, and realize that you mean more to me than some wounds on my back. Wounds that have healed, by the way. But losing you? There’s no coming back from that.”
My jaw clenches, and my skin burns and burns because fuck, how is he so good with words? How can he infuriate me and make me melt at the exact same time?
I inhale through my nose and try to recenter myself.
“Thank you. For not letting him kill me,” I finally manage to say, biting my tongue to keep from screaming at him for letting his father hurt him.
And then scream at him some more for staying away for so long after because even though he’s an Essentari, even though the wounds healed quicker than they would have on the average man, he still had to have been in so much pain. And he went through it all…alone.
He looks at me, as if daring me to do exactly that. Daring me to tell him how insufferable he is, how reckless he is, but I don’t. I don’t because I would have done the same if roles were reversed.
“He said you wanted to end the trials,” I say instead. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I haven’t actually accomplished anything.” His voice is angry, so angry, but also full of so much sorrow. He doesn’t understand that what truly matters is the fact that he’s trying.
At least, he was before I messed everything up.
“Without the trials,” I say, loathing the words I’m thinking because I hate the trials. I always have, but part of me understands why they exist. Why they need to exist. “How will the planet survive?”
His teeth clench, his jaw feathers, and he opens his mouth to speak, but then he closes it.
He sits on the bed next to me.
“Jax?” I slide my hand over his thigh.
“There’s more than one way to control the population,” he says pointedly, and I angle my head because I can’t possibly think of another way. But the way he said it…it’s almost as if his words have another meaning…one I don’t understand. “Come on, it’s time for you to get ready. Ajja’s waiting.”
“Ajja?” I stand.
“You said you wanted to meet him.”
“I do.” My eyes widen.
“Then you better get dressed. I’ll wait for you in the hall.” He closes the door behind him, and I force a few slow breaths before walking to the bathroom where my trial clothes hang on a hook.
Ishla brought them to my room over a week ago.
I slip into the tight leather pants, the material molding to my legs like a second skin. The matching black vest buttons up the front, cinching at my waist, structured enough to offer protection but flexible enough to move in.
Finally, I tug on the knee-high boots before twisting my long hair into a braid.
“You look ready for battle,” Nyxa says, and I nod at my reflection, knowing she can see the movement. “Just make sure your mind is ready, too.”
Closing my eyes, I make quick work of reinforcing the brick wall I’ve been neglecting for weeks, ensuring every hole is filled. Stone by stone, I secure it in place. Only when every crack is sealed do I open my eyes.
“I’m ready,” I tell her, flexing my fingers, feeling the weight of my words—words that, two months ago, I never would have imagined myself saying.
Nyxa chuckles. “I know you are.”