Chapter 4 #2
No doubt he’d cling to his throat with frantic hands—or try to, at least. They were bound so tight they’d already turned white. That alone must have caused a great deal of pain until his hands had lost all feeling, that is.
I noted then that I’d be close enough to him that the blood would pool around my feet, and I wondered if my steps after would make the same sickening sound they’d made at the cabin as I walked out the door, my parents’ lifeless bodies at my back.
No. There was no choice. I couldn’t live with myself if I let Thaddeus do this to Tarrin—or Nevander. Even though I had no doubt Nevander was being controlled by their twisted bond, I knew he would never recover from murdering the man he considered a brother.
Unchecked tears ran down my face before I wiped them away and steeled myself. Tarrin’s gaze caught mine, and it wasn’t relief I found staring back. It was pained acceptance, as if he’d known all along what I’d decide—hating it nonetheless.
“Okay,” I rasped. “You win.”
A dark chuckle had me peering into the shadows as I tried to focus on the figure that stepped toward us.
“No,” I whispered, fear slipping through my cold resignation as the High Lord of the Autumn Court came into view.
“I’ll give it to you, King Thaddeus,” Wymond said, nodding to the king on my other side. “I didn’t think it would be this easy. But as you said, having her warm your bed all those months paid off.”
“I don’t understand,” I breathed, looking from the High Lord to the king.
A saccharine smile spread across Wymond’s features, as if I’d said the most delightful thing. He closed the distance between us, and with rough hands, he grabbed my face, digging his fingers into my chin and forcing my gaze upward. “You will soon, pet.”
I spat at him, then tried to wrench my head away. His eyes flashed with fury, and his grip tightened until my jaw popped, eliciting a scream of searing pain. My bones were seconds away from it shattering.
Thaddeus wrapped a hand around Wymond’s wrist and leaned in. “This was not part of the deal.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it, picturing them negotiating their bargain:
Thaddeus: You may only kill her if it’s the result of her relinquishing the spark, but no other harm shall befall her.
Wymond: I agree to these terms. Now there’s the small matter of mass genocide to discuss.
My thoughts snapped back as Wymond’s hand glowed, the heat almost unbearable against my skin. He didn’t press any harder, though, his gaze locked on me—ending me still clearly on his mind.
“Wymond,” Thaddeus warned.
“Fine,” he barked, throwing me to the ground as he released me.
Drawing a hand up, I opened and closed my jaw, testing it. The ache was deep and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t broken.
I caught Tarrin’s gaze—rage burning in his features. I’m fine, I mouthed; which only seemed to stoke his ire.
His words in the woods knocked free: We really need to work on your definition of okay.
He wasn’t wrong.
Thaddeus offered me a hand, which I smacked away. Displeased, he knelt and stared me down with a hard look before lowering his voice. “Don’t fight me in this, Nyleeria. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m doing what needs to be done. I promise you’ll be allowed to leave after we’re done here.”
“If I live,” I spat.
His features turned solemn—if not regretful. “Yes. If you live.”
Without giving me a choice, he hoisted me to my feet and placed me between him and Wymond, who still looked murderous.
“You remember what to do?” the king asked, and I thought my pounding heart would leap out of my chest.
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
Thaddeus removed his shirt—as did Wymond—his rich ebony skin now fully on display. The king turned his back to me. I faced him fully, taking a deep, steadying breath before raising my palms.
“Thaddeus,” Wymond’s sharp voice cut in, startling me.
Shifting his focus to the High Lord, confusion flickered across his features—then his gaze landed on me, and understanding dawned. A sorrowful weight settled over his expression, pity softening the hard edges of his face. “No,” he murmured. “Like this.”
He turned me so I faced Tarrin and Nevander, then lifted one arm to my side, then the other, until I stood splayed before them, like some offering to the gods.
“I don’t understand,” I said, voice shaky as my arms dropped. Then the realization struck. Cold. Brutal. Absolute. My stomach twisted as dread deeper than anything I’d ever known surged through me. I looked to Tarrin, his devastation confirming my worst fear.
“I’m…” I faltered. “I’m giving it to both of you.”
“You’re giving it all to us,” Thaddeus clarified.
The words hollowed me out. Whatever fragile hope I’d clung to that Thaddeus might stop before taking too much—that mercy might still exist in him—disintegrated to ash.
There would be no stopping him this time.
No Tarrin to come to my rescue.
And Wymond… Wymond would sooner see me dead.
In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I wouldn’t get out of this alive. But maybe—just maybe—dividing the spark between them would weaken it enough that neither of them could wield the full might of the world-building power that slumbered within me.
Knowing there was no other option, I slowly raised my trembling hands and braced myself.