Chapter 65 Laying Blame
Laying Blame
Iwas that little boy again—trapped in Endymion’s mind.
Shortly after being found clinging to his mother’s dead body, he stood with the other children. The other orphaned children. At least that’s what the adults had called him, though he didn’t have the faintest as to what the word meant.
Looking down for the hundredth time at his muddy boots, he resisted the urge to clean them off again.
He preferred to be clean. To be proper. But the filth of this place seemed to cling to him as much as the sorrow that’d permanently draped itself over his shoulders since he’d fallen to his mother’s side and pleaded for her to wake.
He looked around seeing the clear markers of a massive camp. It wouldn’t be until later that he’d understand that all the Autumn Court orphans had been conscripted to the Axelian Army, and would be trained as merciless killers.
He was younger than any of the memories before as his small legs tried to keep up, and had I not felt the difference in his strides, the happiness in his heart that was devoid of grief would’ve been enough to let me know that his parents were still alive.
I bathed in the lightness of his heart, knowing I’d never experienced such carefree happiness before. There was no pang at that realization. In fact, opposite was true. I felt immense gratitude that he’d know that kind of freedom.
“Caius, wait up,” Endymion called after the little blond boy in front of him.
“Come on, Endymion,” Caius’ boyish voice called back in encouragement. “It’s just over the hill.”
Suddenly, the closeness I’d witnessed between them finally made sense—they’d known each other since childhood.
Tucked into the top bunk in the barracks, tears stained Endymion’s tattered pillowcase. He used to weep for his parents, then for the violence he witnessed. But now, now he wept for the violence he’d been forced to inflict.
He didn’t look at the skilled warriors as the others did. No, there was no sense of awe or reverence for them. He saw them as barbarians. Brutes. And he cursed the stars for making him naturally blessed at wielding, weapons, and the innate skill to end another’s life.
Mostly, he hated himself for becoming exactly what they wanted him to be.
Rain poured from the heavens, the rivulets rolling down the contours of Endymion’s bare chest as he ignored the numbness in his fingers as he lost himself to footwork, the sword doing his bidding as it sliced through the air, slaying invisible demons.
He tried to stay calm despite the increasing ache in his head—the one indicating another episode was imminent if he couldn’t clear his mind.
One moment he moved like the wind; the next, his knees buckled, his forgotten sword clattering to the sodden ground as he clutched his head against the torrent of memories that didn’t belong to him.
Screaming, he fell to his side.
The instant he hit the ground, I was thrown out of his body.
A sense of unease settled over me as I stood alone in the middle of the sparring platform, the biting cold of the rain soaking through my leathers.
“Hello, Little Star.” The familiar timbre of Endymion’s voice caressed me with a warm comfort that brought a smile to my face.
I spun around to find him—as I knew him now—within an arm’s reach.
“Hi,” I said, my voice breathy as emotion flooded me.
Without hesitation, Endymion closed the distance between us and placed a warm hand on the side of my face, his gaze boring into mine.
I melted into his touch, leaning my head against his large palm.
I slid my hands up his torso, and he sucked in a ragged breath before he leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine.
“Stars, what I wouldn’t give to kiss you,” he said, the words more plea than anything else.
Tilting back, I caressed his stubbled cheek. Swallowing, I said, “Then do it.”
A soft groan rumbled deep in his chest as he closed his eyes for a brief moment; his lust-filled gaze burning into my soul when he looked down at me again.
“Little Star, I’ve kissed you in my dreams a thousand times. When I kiss you for the first time, I want to hear the shifting cadence of your heartbeat. To smell the sweet scent of your arousal. To taste you fully. To feel how your body reacts to mine.”
He shook his head, then leaned down a little closer so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from my ear. “No,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to where the warm breath of that single word had caressed the sensitive skin.
My eyes slid shut, and I sucked in an involuntary gasp as sparks ignited through my entire body.
“When I kiss you for the first time, Nyla, I want to set the world aflame and let the fire consume me.”
“Endymion,” I breathed, my body, my heart, my soul begging for more.
I could’ve sworn the cool touch of his magic stroked my parted lips, but when I opened my eyes, he was gone.
I gasped awake, sitting bolt upright.
“Endymion? Endymion?” I called out in a blind panic as I wrestled with the blankets, taking little note of where I was. Only one thing mattered—getting back to him.
“Whoa there, Spark. It’s okay. He’s okay. You’re back in the Summer Court in your bed.”
I blinked furiously, trying to focus on his words. My eyes snapped to him, and before I thought better of it, I flung myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Artton,” I gasped, nearly crumbling with relief.
Grunting as he caught me, Artton wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tight. Tears fell as I let his solid presence reassure me that he was here. Okay. Alive.
Pulling back slightly, cerulean eyes that reminded me so much of Endymion’s met mine. They were like mirrors of my own relief as we took each other in. “The others?” I asked.
“Safe.”
“Thank the gods,” I said, then sat back on my heels. “And Endymion?”
“Alive, but he still hasn’t woken up.”
I nodded, already knowing that truth in my soul.
“You, on the other hand,” Artton said, and I could tell he was hedging his next words. I stiffened, waiting for whatever he clearly didn’t want to say. Abandoning his first tactic, the summer fae stood.
“Here, why don’t I show you?” he said, holding out a hand.
My brows knit together as I eyed his proffered hand.
“Please,” he said, and the sadness in that single word had me accepting his help out of the bed. Thank the stars I did, because the moment I tried to stand up, my vision swam, and I was forced to lean into his side to stop me from teetering over.
“Whoa,” I said, feeling unsteady, but worst of all, weak.
Without a word, Artton scooped me up, and the stern lines of his face stole any words of protestation I’d been about to send his way.
Walking us toward the bathroom, he gingerly set me down on the chair I always used when Kai tended my hair. Once he stepped away, he looked at my reflection through the mirror, forcing my focus to follow.
My hands flew to my mouth in shock as I took in my reflection. My gaunt reflection.
“Seven hells,” I breathed as I traced downward, cataloguing what I saw.
Dark under-eye bruising.
Sallow complexion.
Hollowed cheeks.
I pulled the fabric of my cardigan tight across my body, needing to hide the sharp protrusion of my collarbones.
Unable to bear the sight of myself, I looked away.
“I’ve seen enough,” I said, my voice as fragile as my body.
Artton’s sad gaze fixed on mine as he lifted me with ease and walked back to the room. When it was clear he wanted to bring me back to the bed, I said, “Can you take me to him?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Spark, but no. The closer you are to Endymion, the faster you decline.”
“Please?” I croaked, feeling as if my heart might stop beating.
He shook his head again but changed course to the living room.
“I’m on orders. Why don’t I get you set up in here and let Caius know you’re awake?
” Carefully, he set me down on the sofa, pulling over pillows to ensure my comfort before placing a heavier blanket over me. “You can ask Caius then, okay?”
Not entirely sure how to feel, I nodded.
“I won’t be long,” Artton said, then went to leave.
“Artton?”
He spun on his heel, deep worry written all over his features. “What is it?”
“Kaelun,” I said, forced to swallow the lump in my throat before continuing. “His ashes… Did they…” An unbidden tear slipped down the side of my face.
Worry shifted to anguish, which softened before he spoke. “Yes.” His voice was thick, and I could tell it cost him to keep his composure. “You have no idea the mercy you offered his family with that request.”
Lip now quavering, tears cascaded down as I closed my eyes against the pain. “No,” I said, then found his gaze. “The only thing I offered them is pain. His death on my head.”
Artton’s eyes turned murderous as his long strides ate up the distance between us. “Don’t you dare say that again. Wymond is the only one who bears the weight of Kaelun’s death, and I won’t tolerate anyone taking that burden on themselves—least of all you—do you hear me, Nyleeria?”
I reared back slightly from the use of my name.
I searched his eyes for a different truth, for anger at me for Kaelun’s death—but there wasn’t any to be found.
As if knowing what I sought, he let out a deep sigh, then knelt.
Looking up at me, he said, “I won’t lie to you, Spark—a part of me will always blame myself for not being able to protect him when he needed it most. We will all carry this in our hearts until the day we die.
But not being able to stop what happened is not the same as being the one responsible. Do you understand?”
They were wise words, though I wasn’t entirely certain I knew how to follow them. Reaching out, I slid my hand in his and squeezed. “It just got so fucked up so quickly, Artton.”
He nodded. “I know. Gods, I know. I’d give anything to go back and make different decisions. But I can’t. What matters right now is figuring out how to help you and Endymion—because I’m not sure any of us could survive another loss.”
Mustering a weak smile, I reluctantly released his hand, freeing him to grab Caius.
The moment the door clicked closed, I leaned back and rested my head against the pillows. No sooner had I acknowledged how utterly drained I was than exhaustion pulled me under.