Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
SENAN
I leap over the railing, letting myself fall toward the moon-kissed clouds far below, not bothering to count the number of balconies on my way down, down, down .
Everywhere I look, I see her .
And there is only one way to make it stop.
The thick clouds always feel like they should catch me, but they never do. Like everything else in this world, they let me fall. A dark blur speeds across my peripherals a split second before thick arms snap around my torso, jerking my whole body back up toward the disappointing clouds as Bell’s mammoth gray wings catch the updraft.
“I’ve had enough,” he snarls. “You don’t get to do this. Not on my watch.”
There is no point fighting. Bell is as strong as a fucking ox. “You should’ve let me fall.” At least then I’d be at peace.
“I like my head on my shoulders.”
How chivalrous, saving me only to save himself.
“Your brother is expecting you in the privy chamber with the advisors from Nimbiss,” Bell says, as if I need the reminder, landing on the lowest balcony ringing the east tower.
I’ve done enough for my king today. “That is too bad because I am going to the bar.”
“Sire—”
I hold up a hand, cutting off his protest. “You can either accompany me or leave me to my own devices. The choice is yours.”
Bell glances toward the tower where my brother and the advisors are meeting, then back to me. “Not tonight.”
“I’ll pay you ten gold coins for three hours.” That is twice as much as I usually give him to turn a blind eye.
His lips flatten, and he blows out a harsh breath, dragging his hand down the back of his neck. “Ten gold coins for one hour.”
Who cares if it costs me a hundred gold coins? I can’t stay another second in the castle.
The bar is blessedly empty save the uneven chords from the lyre player in the back. I plonk down on the closest stool and lift my hand toward the bartender. “Two of your finest ales, please, Mikel.”
“I don’t drink,” Bell says, as if I don’t already know my pious guard abstains from everything enjoyable. It’s a wonder his wife is pregnant at all.
“Don’t worry. They’re both for me.”
A few minutes later, Mikel slams down two foamy pints. The coin I slide across the drink-splattered table disappears into his meaty fist. I drink deep, letting the frosty liquid numb the ache in my soul. Bell settles against the cushioned bench, his ankle thrown across his knee, scrubbing at a bit of dirt on his boot with his thumb.
He looks so fucking content. It’s been so long since I felt even a semblance of contentment.
I set down my empty glass but don’t bother reaching for the second. “What is wrong with me?” On paper, I have everything, and yet I feel so empty inside.
Bell drops his hand with a heavy sigh, watching me in that unnerving way of his. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
“Actually, I do.” Maybe his answer will be what finally makes me better.
Bell’s silver-clad shoulders rise and fall with another sigh. “You love a ghost, sire. And when you love a ghost, you become one.”
A ghost . That is what I am. My body and presence are required, but nothing more. Not my opinions or my feelings. I could be screaming, and no one would hear, like I’m already on the other side of the veil, just another specter watching life pass him by.
“You think I should stop fighting, don’t you?” I’m not sure why I ask. The answer is all but written on his face.
He shifts on his seat, his gray gaze searching mine. “I believe that continuing to deny your destiny will only lead to folly.”
My destiny is to marry a woman I do not love and live in a kingdom I have no fondness for, all for the sake of adding to my family’s “legacy.” At least in Nimbiss, I’ll be away from Boris. That is something, isn’t it?
My fingers slip around the second pint, and I take a drink.
At least Leeri is comely. And her personality isn’t that terrible. She has been nice to Kyff, hasn’t she? All I have to do is produce a few heirs and my duty will be done. A few more years, and I’ll be free.
Free .
The last time I felt free was four years ago, in another realm, with a woman who had the most beautiful laugh. I run my finger along the scar on my left hand that no one knows exists, aching all the way to my worthless soul.
This pain is too much to bear. I hate that I’m weak. That I need a crutch to get me through the long, lonely nights.
But there is no point in fighting the darkness because the darkness always wins.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing to my feet.
Bell’s calloused fingers wrap around my wrist. “I want your word that you will not leave the privy glowing like a fucking lantern.”
“You have it.”
The fool lets me go.
Part of me feels guilty for lying to the man, but the drink hasn’t done a damned thing to take away this eternal ache. I need something stronger.
I head into the men’s privy, make sure the room is empty, and check the secret compartment only to find nothing there. Dammit . The dust should’ve been restocked by now. How many days has it been since I was last here? Three? Four?
I brace my hands on the edge of the sink, watching the blood from the fresh wound drip toward the drain. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognize the man staring back. Gods, my face needs a shave. And the barber butchered my hair, cutting it so short on the sides that I can barely run my fingers through it.
In this light, the tattoos on my knuckles look stark against my skin as I scratch my throat. My body is marked inside and out by a woman I knew only a handful of months four years ago.
My mate.
A breath shudders out of me.
Bell is right. Only a fool would let the past wreck his future. I should pick up what pieces remain and try to make a life for myself.
But first, one final goodbye.
When I peek out the door, I see Bell speaking with the bartender, blocking the exit. Looks like I’ll have to find another way out. Back in the privy, I search the block walls and black ceiling. There, in the very back corner, is a vent. At least, I think it’s a vent. It’s hard to tell since it is blacked out like the rest of the walls in this place.
Either way, it looks large enough to fit through without my wings.
I call on my glamour, and my wings wink out of existence. Now to get up there without them. The radiator looks sturdy enough. I brace myself against the wall and lift one foot onto the edge. With a bit of finesse and only one minor slip, I manage to unlatch what is, indeed, a vent.
A stale breeze washes over me from the other side.
Now to climb through. My head isn’t a problem, but my shoulders are another story. No matter how I twist, I can’t get past them. When I try to abort the mission, I get even more stuck. Onward it is. I manage to get one arm out, but the second? Not a hope.
Isn’t this brilliant?
Bell is going to stroll in here and find my ass hanging out the fucking vent. Come on . I brace my foot against the wall and give myself one final shove. Heat scrapes down my arm. One more time. Nowhere to go but out. COME ON . My shoulder suddenly gives, and the force sends me tumbling face-first toward the stone path. I drop my glamour a second too late, and my wings and I both smash onto the unforgiving ground.
Blood dribbles down my arm from a gash on my shoulder and my chin feels like it’s been kicked, but I made it, so I consider the venture a success.
Two women in sheer shifts that barely reach the tops of their thighs lean against a doorway across from where I sprawl. They call out to me when I stumble to my feet, but I draw my hood over my head and turn toward the twisted alleys instead, keeping my sore arm tucked into my chest.
An old man in a patched hood hunches over on someone’s stoop, his red wings hanging unevenly from his back. The feathers at the bottom have turned black from grime. Although I’m not unsympathetic to his plight, his sorry state isn’t what catches my eye.
In his hand, he holds a glowing vial.
My footsteps slow, bringing me closer and closer to that spark of light. “You there,” I call.
The man’s empty eyes lift to mine.
From my purse, I withdraw a handful of gold coins—enough for three times the amount of dust in the vial. “Care to make a trade?”
The man’s gaze drifts to the coins, his expression so serious, you’d swear I asked for his first born. I hold the coins closer. “Go on. Take these. Use them for some food and a warm bed for the night. And maybe a bath as well.”
The man lurches to his feet, the remaining feathers at the bottom of his wings dragging through the muck. The stench that rolls off him is enough to make me gag. He stinks worse than that privy.
The stardust in the vial dances, always so beautiful.
The deadliest things in life often are.
He places the vial in my palm. “It’ll ruin your life,” he mutters through chapped lips, his voice cracking like he isn’t used to speaking.
I know that, and yet the moment he takes the coins and limps around the corner, I find the blade in my purse, cut my palm, and drain stardust over the wound.
Heat floods my veins, and light sparks like lightning striking the alleyway. A coppery tang fills my mouth, almost like blood but sweeter. So fucking sweet .
Life isn’t so bad when you chase away the darkness. I’d say I felt happy if I didn’t know what true happiness feels like. But this is close enough. At least now I have the strength to say goodbye.
Even high, I know exactly which streets to take. I’ve walked them over and over again in my mind. When I step into the square, the dead heart in my chest gives an answering thump. Tonight, no one waits by the portal. There is no silver light, only inky black.
I sink onto the portal’s edge and dip my fingers into the liquid, cold and black as tar, as if all the magic has been leached out. “I’m sorry, Allette,” I whisper to my dark reflection. “I’ve tried. But I can’t hold on anymore.”
Ripples spread across the mirrored surface. According to legend, if you enter the portal any day other than Samhain, you’ll be lost forever.
Would that be so bad? At least it won’t hurt anymore. Anything has to be better than this emptiness.
Boots thump on the cobblestones, and Bell shouts my name.
But it’s too late.
I fall into nothingness, a copper sinking to the bottom of a wishing well. As if throwing something so insignificant into a bunch of stagnant water would be enough to give us what we desire.
The liquid feels the same as it did that night long ago, slippery but not wet. I open my mouth to fill my lungs with it, ready to drown. Instead, icy air clogs my throat.
My wings snap out, leaving me trembling as I squint toward lights flickering in the distance. Smoke rises from cottages dotting the snow-blanketed hillsides.
Either I’m dead or I’m in the human?—
A hand shoots out of the cloud above, gripping my left wing. I barely have time to suck in another breath before being hauled back through the portal.
A portal that had worked .
How is that even possible? Everyone knows it only works on Samhain.
We fly out the other side, Bell’s vicious curse ringing through the square. The guard drops me like a sack of grain onto the rigid stones. “You gave me your word,” he snarls, his hand flying to the pommel of his short sword.
His deadly expression probably should worry me but I’m too confused by what happened. “It works.” The portal works .
Bell grabs my collar, dragging me to my feet.
He doesn’t look surprised by the revelation. Why doesn’t he look surprised? Unless… “You knew…”
He refuses to meet my gaze.
Fucking hell. He knew . He knew and he never fucking told me? “Who else knows?”
A shadow crosses his face before he shoves me between the wings. “I don’t have time for this. I was due back ages ago.”
When he goes to shove me again, I duck out of reach. “Does the portal work all the time? Every single day?”
He withdraws his sword, gesturing toward the sky. “That is something you must discuss with your brother.”
Boris knows. Of course he does. He is the fucking king.
That bastard .
And after he told me— Dammit .
I may be glowing like a shooting star, but I’ve never flown as straight as I do when I shoot into the sky, through the thick layer of clouds, and into the starry night toward the castle’s central tower. Bell and I land in unison, our boots thumping against the king’s balcony.
“You really should wait until morning,” Bell says, following me as I stalk toward the king’s bedroom. If he isn’t here, I’ll track down his worthless, lying carcass even if it takes all fucking night.
“And he should’ve told me the fucking truth!” He’d seen how distraught I was. Why hadn’t he said something?
Bell stops before we reach the fluttering curtains. When my face slams into an invisible barrier, I know why.
I clutch my throbbing nose. Specks of blood splatter down my shirt. “You could’ve warned me about the fucking wards!” Yes, the whole castle has them, but most let me straight through.
Although the corner of his lips lift slightly, Bell doesn’t say a word. I pound against the barrier, each bang like an explosion in the night. If Boris doesn’t let me in?—
The king emerges from the darkness, his black hair loose over his bare shoulders. “What is the meaning of—” His eyes seem to focus on me. “ Senan ?” Those eyes narrow into slits as he slips into a robe and cinches the tie at his waist. “How dare you show up to my room in the middle of the bloody night. And high as a bloody star! I swear, if you wake my wife, I will murder you.”
Oh, right. I forgot about his wife. It’s not my fault, though. The woman barely leaves their private level of the central tower. Not that I blame her. Being married to this lying, manipulative bastard must be exhausting.
Boris stalks out of the tower and grabs me by the elbow. “You have disappointed me for the last time.”
“You wish to speak of disappointment?” I tug free of his grasp and slam my fist into his lying face. Bell curses and lunges, but he is too late. I have my brother’s chin locked in an iron grip and the sharp edge of my blade pressed to his gullet.
No. Not my brother.
This prick is the king and nothing more. The razor blade may be small, but it’ll do the trick. They’ll kill me for this, but what do I have to live for anyway?
Boris gasps, terror shining in his bulging silver eyes.
“Imagine my disappointment when I went to the portal tonight and fell all the way to the human realm.”
The king’s long fingers snap around my wrist, scalding my skin with his fire element.
He thinks a little fire is going to deter me?
He can burn my hand clean off and I won’t budge until he tells me the fucking truth. “How is that possible when the portal is only open one day a year?”
“I can explain?—”
“You lied to me!” The acrid stench of my melting flesh twists my stomach and burns my eyes.
“Only those who need to know?—”
“ I needed to know, dammit !”
His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Blood dribbles down his throat.
Am I really going to do this?
Am I really going to kill my own brother?
Dammit . I shove him away and launch the blade across the balcony, cursing this world and everyone in it. I clasp a hand above the bubbled, aching flesh of my wrist, sending healing magic toward the wound. “You dragged me away, spouting shite about the portal closing even though it was a fucking lie!”
Boris falls forward, bracing his hands on his knees, his breaths sawing in and out. “You were expected to leave for Nimbiss at dawn.”
Nimbiss. Nimbiss. Fucking Nimbiss . The entire kingdom can burn for all I care.
Still gasping, Boris straightens, his face pale in the moonlight.
“You took me away from her when I could’ve stayed,” I cry. “Could’ve protected her. Saved her.” Died with her . “But you lied. This is your fault.”
“You want to blame me? Fine.” Throwing out his hands, he stalks forward. “Go ahead. Blame me. But I’m not the one who convinced her to stay in the human realm.”
Guilt swallows my anger.
It’s all my fault.
If I hadn’t been a fool and begged Allette to stay with me in that cursed realm, she wouldn’t be dead.
“Gods above, Senan,” Boris mutters, his face raised to the twinkling stars. “It’s been four years. You should be over this by now.”
Over it? He thinks I should be over it ? “Just because you don’t understand my grief doesn’t mean I’m doing it wrong. You can’t possibly know how I feel. The guilt I wrestle with every moment of every day.”
I was the one who left my mate in that cottage. Me. No one else. I’d nearly died having to wait an entire year to return when I could’ve gone straight back to her. What happened when I finally made it still haunts my dreams.
A burned-out shack.
And inside…
I can’t even bear to think about what I found within that hollowed out shell.
That first year, I’d foolishly believed Allette had been living—maybe even thriving—in the human world. And my mate never even made it out of the cottage.
I sink onto the ground, clutching my head in my trembling hands. “I loved her so much,” I say, my voice breaking. Too much .
Boris sits down next to me. “I know you did. But Allette is dead.”
Allette is dead.
Dead. Gone forever.
Every time I search the shadows for my mate—every time I see her face—she isn’t really there.
Because she is dead.
The tightness in my chest refuses to ease. I’ve been torn in two, the other half of me cut out and stolen by fate. My thumb grazes down the thick silver scars on my palms. That is why I dust. Because I’m searching for an escape from this unending pain and grief and guilt that lives inside my bones.
Why am I still hanging on, waiting for someone who is never coming back?
Love a ghost, become a ghost yourself.
Boris goes to put his arm around me, seems to think better of it, and clamps a hand on my shoulder instead. “I am so sorry, brother. It breaks my heart to see you so distraught. But if you continue down this path, you will be left with nothing.”
I already have nothing.
“Just because the princess is not the wife you want does not mean she cannot make you happy,” he says, his tone guarded. “Open your heart to her. She is quite taken with you. I daresay her affections run deep.”
I doubt her affections are genuine, but who am I to judge? I was head over heels for a woman I knew for only a handful of months.
A resigned sigh pushes through my lips. “I will try.”
“I want your word, Senan.”
What good is that? I break my promises more often than I keep them.
“Swear to me that you will accept this alliance. That you will stop trying to defy your destiny and marry the princess.”
I drag in a ragged breath and manage to bury my heartache deep enough that I do not falter in my response. “I swear.”