Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Selene
The moment I ask, Titus’s lips press into a thin line, like a coffin lid shutting. I roll my shoulders, but the walls still press in.
Knowing the memory of my brother’s death pains him. A little.
We’re forced to be friends because of what my brother plotted.
Titus’s hands curl into fists. “I am sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His brown eyes cloud like thunder.
“You’ve expressed that,” I declare. I slide over the polished stone floor and sit across from him. “Apologies get us nowhere now. Facts do. What did Everett tell you?”
My feet itch to stand and pace, but sitting lowers defenses. It makes this interrogation feel like a story shared around a campfire.
Titus pushes his hair back and rubs the back of his neck. “Prince Everett told me many things. Most of which made little sense.” He glares at his hands as if they belong to a stranger he’d rather not associate with.
I reach up, cover my mouth, and rub my jaw. My brother’s magic rests in these hands. I bite the inside of my cheek. How do I get him to cherish it?
“Do you feel the time magic?” I ask. He’s a child running with adults. He needs to master this gift before someone more dangerous finds out.
What a waste that would be. My brother is dead, but his magic isn’t. I’ll do everything to keep it alive.
“No. Not at this moment; thank the gods. It… terrifies me.” His sigh is a mountain that lost a piece of itself to the abyss. Another chunk cracks off, crumbling down and fracturing more parts. The agony of the fear, of the fact he’s not the same person he once was, is palpable.
Titus coughs, but his voice only deepens. “During Everett’s final battle, he caged me. Stopped time. My brother was on the outside, moving more slowly. I witnessed swords sink into flesh; I saw the prolonged confusion that death claimed them. I’d rather die instantly than watch the seconds pass.”
The hand of my brother’s killer slips into mine before I can stop myself. My actions shock us both. There’s a spark that curls up our arms. His fingers hug mine.
“Some say a slow death is more precious; it gives you time to say your goodbyes,” I murmur.
“What if I don’t want goodbyes?” He studies our held hands much longer than is appropriate.
A chill sweeps over my body. I feel this moment has happened before. Humans call it déjà vu; the mages think it’s a warning.
“Trust me,”—my heart aches—“I would rather have a goodbye than nothing but a last memory. I wish I were there watching my brother bleed out. I wished to be the hand that held his as he struggled to pass over. A hand that loved him, not this stranger.”
“I wasn’t a stranger to him,” Titus whispers. It’s his attempt at comfort.
Gradually, I nod. “We take goodbyes for granted.”
Why did I just squeeze his hand? Why can’t I let go?
“I guess we should voice everything.” Titus looks up. “In case we don’t get a last goodbye, that way the person knows our true feelings.”
I slip my hand free and cross my arms so I can’t reach for him again. This is too much.
Sitting taller, I force a swallow down. “You stopped the arrow with time-weaving.”
He nods.
“If Galen saw…” Oh, what Galen would do if he knew Titus had fae magic! The unknown terrifies me.
Would Titus be his weapon? No, Galen is the ultimate weapon; he kills anyone who inches closer.
“I was lucky.”
“That luck will run out.”
“That's why I need your help. I tried to gain mastery over Everett’s magic, but it always ends up dominating me.
“I didn’t know a vampire could accept a fae’s magic.” What price did Everett pay for this knowledge?
“There was no accepting. Everett gave me no choice.”
A deep need to comfort him possesses me. Again, my hands move without my consent. “I’m sorry for what my brother forced upon you.” Taking his palm, I flip it over and uncurl his fingers. I trailed my finger across his palm, noticing his arm shake.
Heat radiates from him. I close his fingers, then squeeze them into a fist before I place his hand back on his lap.
I exhale, “Everett was adept at coercion. But he wasn’t malicious. Everything he did was for the people.”
“You mean his people. The fae of Solaria.”
“No.” I roll my lips so Titus can’t see the tremble. “For all the people. That infuriated my father; he wanted him to grow angry, to hate the vampires who slaughtered us, so he sent him to the frontlines.”
We sit in silence for so long that I count the dust particles that dance and float in the air.
“He would have been a righteous king.”
My eyes water. “Thank you.” I nod.
“It’s the truth.”
“I know,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in my voice, “that is why it hurts.”
“Only corrupt kings survive, never good ones.”
“If only we could change that.” I snort a bitter laugh.
Titus continues; he tells me how Everett stalked him on the battlefield and watched him burn the fallen bodies. Knowing that Titus has buried my people only expands the unfamiliar sensation inside my chest.
“He was testing you,” I point out.
“He was,” Titus huffs in annoyance. “All these questions about why I did this and not that. I knew what he was doing.”
“Why did you reply?”
Titus drums his fingers on the polished floor; no sound echoes. These castle walls are the belly of a beast. Nothing, not screams or shouts of glee, escape. Everything is sacrificed for the crown.
“I don’t know.” Titus glances away. “I suppose having a conversation made me feel civilized again.”
What good is a kingdom if shattered minds fill it? How can I repair them, erase all the wrongs done to people like Titus?
“We forget soldiers are people. I am sorry for what you had to endure.”
His eyes shift towards me, like brown timbers bracing a mountain of truth. “I killed many of your kind.”
“You can’t accept sympathy,” I say.
“It’s not owed to someone like me.”
“Gifts are given, not owed. Titus, you’re not the villain. There is no difference between you and a fae warrior. Your fight is to survive, return home, and live.”
Why can’t I look away? I want to hug him… hold him. I want to cry and feel his arms embrace me as I do.
Thump! Thump!
Does he feel it, too?
“It does not seem your wish but your fate that set you on this path.” I confess, my tone somber and soft.
“It is.” Titus’s heavy exhale fills the space between us. “Sometimes I want to get off of it.”
Determination settles on his brow; I need to wipe it off. “The path can be challenging, endless, but stepping a toe off of it is often what kills us.”
“Now you sound like your brother.”
I smile; it’s stretched with heartache and honor.
It’s a kingdom’s flag that withstood the entire war, threadbare and riddled with holes, but it survived only to realize its country did not.
There’s dignity in knowing you fought till the end, rather than lowering your flag and watching the enemy burn it.
Everett fought to his end. Titus was his flag. I shall carry him.
“Everett had his reasons; you have to do as he commanded, or you will change the outcome he died for.”
Titus holds his breath. “I understand that now. I am trying hard, Selene, but I have my moments. Doubts tell me to run away from this mission. The only thing keeping one foot in front of the other is thinking like a soldier. This is just another order I must fulfill.”
His words are a gust of wind that extinguishes a flame. My hatred of him is choked out. It’s nothing more than smoke vanishing from my mind’s eye.
Titus is of a noble heart, just as Everett predicted.
Did Everett foresee this very moment, when I forgive the act I once considered unforgivable?
A hard swallow thickens my throat, crashing down to my belly. “What else did Everett say?”
“He didn’t say he was happy I killed him. I lied to Sable.”
“I know. Go on.” I look at the tapestries. Mentally, I erase their pictures; I repaint what Titus tells me.
“There was something odd, something I said, but it was as if someone else spoke it for me. Everett said, ‘Some say symbols caused this war.’ But my reply wasn’t my own; I told him, ‘Others argue symbols ended it.’”
Symbols? How much does Titus know?
“What does that mean?” I question him.
“Everett was referring to the wars that happened during the era of Broken Oaths.”
My face wrinkles.
Titus smooths it out. “He was referring to runes, Selene.” His tone is a line of chalk being stretched out along the board, emphasizing the point. He scoots forward, no longer leaning against the wall. Leaning closer, as a teacher would stand before a pupil.
“Runes,” I whisper as I look at the door.
Everett told Titus about the runes!
This mad chase for forgotten knowledge killed my brother. It’s worse knowing he died for bedtime stories.
“But you see, Selene, I think you knew this,” Titus reports.
Accusation weighs his voice down. “I watched you bite your tongue before you asked what Everett told me. You looked at the door because you wanted to flee. You knew the answer. You lied.” His voice drops, low and gravelly. “Lying to me has consequences.”
He shifts onto his knees. A defense position that has my spine pulling taut.
His proximity makes me feel small, petite, and dainty.
My hands feel unable to lift a sword. His eyes, now like cold brown dirt, press into me, like the hands of an undug grave, warning me he'll gobble me up if I lie again.
His intuition might be his most compelling weapon.
Titus is a blade with a hidden edge.
I press my tongue against my dry inner cheek. “I didn’t want you to think Everett was mad,” I confide in shame.
“Sometimes a monster lurks so deep in the woods that only one person sees it. They manage to escape and warn their village. But the people call them mad, crazy, delusional. They don’t listen. When that monster comes, they all die, because they didn’t heed the warning.”
He rests his hand on my trembling knees. “We both need to be on the same page if we are going to survive. No more lies.”