Chapter 35 #2
The scraping of metal on stone pulls the crown nearer. I peer at the crown, ignoring the burning rawness of the wind as it smacks against my eyes. More vines erupt as Galen roars; they block the wind from assaulting me.
I wish I hadn’t looked. I watch in grotesque horror as a vine invades Jonas’s nose and mouth, suffocating him.
My palms flatten onto the floor as I prepare to stand. My chin presses painfully into the stone. Close your eyes; don’t watch this.
I can’t look away.
I know precisely when the vines reach Jonas’s heart. His complexion turns to porcelain. There is no coming back from that. The heart is the most vital organ, and if it’s damaged, you’re dead.
Like my brother. Stabbed through the heart.
Now is your chance! Pushing, I stand. A natural reflex has my hand reaching for the dagger at my hip.
No! My hand touches emptiness. My head drops. Galen’s sudden arrival this morning left me no time to retrieve it.
I see it; what could have been. A backstab to the heart; that’s how I would’ve taken Galen down. Jonas could have been my scapegoat if necessary.
Thick blackish tendrils coil over one another; a waxy squelch accompanies each movement. Jonas’s knees are pulled down, and the vines around his torso keep his back upright. Galen’s ragged exhales hit my skull like a hammer.
Jonas who? All I see is a thick bush in my hall.
Galen tries to push more magic, but it runs out. This morning, he fueled and refueled his magic beyond what I had ever seen him do. If he drinks more, bloodlust will take over.
He’s at his most valuable now. He knows it. Realization sinks into him. Instead of panicking, he feigns calm.
You can’t wiggle free from this.
If Galen cared for me, he’d search for me, but his eyes lock on his crown, which lay at my feet. He closes the distance. “Get it,” he sneers.
Beyond him, I spot the door to Titus’s room and smirk.
“A king without a crown. It’s an image you should get used to.
” I kick the crown, pull my spine back, and allow my adrenaline to pull my feet to my room.
The door catches my shoulder, my feet scream for my bed.
I walk to the nightstand and grab my dagger.
I turn, but Galen is there, holding his crown.
“You want to kill me?” He runs his fingers over the metal as if it were a woman’s hips.
Instead of unsheathing my dagger, I lower it to my side. I’m a hypocrite. I begged my mate not to act on his desire, but here I am lusting to kill Galen when I have no magic or fight left in me. I’m only standing because my bones refuse to break. “It would be my dream come true,” I acknowledge.
“People like us don’t dream.” He lifts the crown carefully; his shoulders relax when the weight settles onto his head.
His walk to my mirror is quick. His eagerness to check his reflection has coated my tongue with acid.
“We see nightmares and make them a reality, Selene. You hate me because you see yourself in me.”
“The only thing I see equal in us is a desire to kill.”
“That’s why I love you,” he counters as he styles his hair so it curls around his crown. “You see, Sable seeks to destroy, but you pursue what I find most alluring.”
“Killing and destroying are the same.”
“You’re wrong.” The corners of his mouth curl. “If I destroy everything, as Sable seeks to do, then who do I have left to kill? Killing is the long game; destroying is the short.”
I move so my bed separates us. “I’d tell you you’re insane, but you’d just consider that a compliment.”
He tugs his sleeves down, then starts to adjust his outfit, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I do love the unique way you flatter me, dear wife.”
I pull out my dagger, raise it and take aim. Air floods my clammy hands. Pride pulls at my tired eyes as I watch the blade soar through the air.
Crack!
Galen ducks to the side. He wasn’t my target. The mirror shatters.
“That was risky.” Galen pivots; his boots crush the shards of the mirror. His glare is a challenge.
“Taking risks is how you survive the long game, isn’t that right, Galen?”
A slow, deliberate darkening of his pupils makes ending our relationship so much more satisfying.
“We’re finished.” I’ll never get over the joy of telling him that. “Your time is coming to an end. Grow some more roses so your grave has fresh flowers.”
The twisting of his lips resembles the vines that grow. “We never got started. These games we play have just been the flirting a couple endures before they commit.”
“Commit?” My fingers mold the dagger’s sheath as a soft chuckle slips past my lips. “Your loyal soldier just attempted to kill you, Galen. More will follow suit.” My legs protest; the tremor takes hold, spreading from my calves to my thighs.
I plop onto my bed, hoping Galen doesn’t see that my legs are about to collapse.
I run my hands down my thighs, trying to soothe my muscles. Galen thinks I’m trying to seduce him. “What does it feel like to know the war has finally come to your doorstep?”
I kick off one of my shoes. Dirt from the field falls onto my floor.
“My borders are clear,” he defends.
“Is that why you called in your reserve army?” I chuckle. “Unlike before, the battle is here; you have no excuse to hide within your walls and plan. Do you think sprinkling roses over a charging army will stop them? Will you stop and smell the roses before they drive a sword through your heart?”
My brow practically meets my hairline. His face turns the color of the blood he’s addicted to.
“Your men will want you to prove your worth. That’s why you forced Vice Admiral Adrian and Titus to return,” I point out, and the skin around his nose pinches.
“Your men were too fond of them on the battlefield. You forced them here to drink wine and act drunk, so your men would see they were not gods, just warriors with good aim.”
His clenched fist betrays his temper, but I’m not finished.
“Wars don’t topple kings, Galen. Doubt does.
It’s written all over your handsome face.
Apprehension will be what claims your crown.
Your men distrust you, and you cannot keep them safe.
First, Titus was attacked, then your blood was poisoned, now your bodyguard is murdered.
” My gaze sweeps over the room. “Your walls are crumbling. Smell that? No more roses, just shit-filled air. Death is coming. Someone as pampered as you will gag at the stench. Me? I’ll survive.
I’m used to nightmares—I’m married to you. ”
His left eye twitches. Why did he touch his crown again? Haven’t I proved symbols won’t save him?
“You could chain it to your head, but they’re just cut your neck from your shoulders,” I boast.
“Shut up!” he snaps.
I swing my legs up and flex my toes slowly. “Next time you wake up, take a moment to enjoy the sunrise.” I peer out the window in my room. “It might be your last.”
In a fury, he’s at my side; the bed is no longer under me. “You think you can address me in such a tone?” He spits as he holds me firm.
He jerks, caught off guard when my palms frame his face.
“It’s not the tone that offends you, but rather the truth painted before your eyes.
You don’t love your people, Galen. You love metal formed into crowns and stones carved into walls.
You love material items that will soon be stripped away from you.
“Perhaps if you loved your people, you could have held onto them; better yet, they would have held onto you.” I drop my hands, knowing it will be the last time I touch his face. He knows I’ll never accept him again.
That is what he craved. My acceptance. The prey lying with the predator.
My body hits the bed with a thud. Galen grabs his collar and tugs it high as he looks down at me. “It’s not a king’s job to love, but to rule.”
“A king’s job is to be dutiful. You don’t know the definition of duty. It defines both loving and ruling.”
Titus knows; that’s why he’s going to be a good king and not a corrupt one.
“If you were a good king, you would have understood that long ago.”
“I’m a great king.” He puffs his chest wide.
“Galen,” I groan, “kings are not the ones who write history. When they die, everything they built can be torn down and rewritten. Once you perish, you will be known for what you truly are. All the nobles who kiss your ass will be the first to burn your memoirs. The people you stomped on shall raise both feet and hands to topple what you built.”
“At least I had memoirs to burn. You have nothing.”
Wrong. I have a mate. I have everything.
Galen knows he fucked up by entrusting Sable over me. There is nothing he can do to rectify the situation. He has to fight, but I know his ending thanks to my brother.
He releases a long exhale. “You know why I put up with your tongue, Selene?”
“Because I tell you what your men don’t.”
“That’s right. See, you think you’re tearing me down.
But it’s the opposite. You help motivate me.
I will win this war. I will eradicate your home and your people from history.
Then, I will use their bones to build a new castle, one that reaches the clouds; I shall place you inside a cage made of their ashes.
Forever my pet, who loves to bite the hand that feeds it.
” His triumphant smirk is so tight it pulls his shoulders back as he strides to the door.
“Bones and ash do not scare me, Galen.”
He glances over his shoulder, searching for what does.
I reveal nothing. “You have a mess outside to clean up.” I lean over and fluff my pillow. “And something tells me that is what truly scares you.”
The door slams so hard my muscles flinch.
He’s gone. I survived. I curl my fingers into the pillow, trying to slow the shaking of my lungs.
Titus. Mate. I wish he were here to catch me instead of the mattress. I press my face into the sheets, feeling like a puppet that has been passed around so many times my stitches are barely holding.
“Ouch!” I gasp as a searing pain burns into my flesh.
My back arches from the torture. My heart feels on fire. My hands claw at the fabric of my top, ripping it open. The pain has faded to that of a sharp sting.
Open your eyes. You know what has happened.
My trembling fingers hover over the pain, too scared to touch my skin.
“Gods!” The mating mark has appeared. My eyes gaze upon it only for a moment, lost in its beauty.
It feels like a child, something I want to keep safe and protect, but in my current situation, it is a bastard child, one I must keep hidden so Galen does not kill it.
Tenderly, I press my finger to it. A sharp inhale hits my lungs as a rush of magic jolts from it. Glee, safety, love. Titus. His face, his thick dark hair, trusting brown eyes, and his sharp jaw. He’s all I see. His body, his actions, his desire for me. It pulls tears from my eyes.
Then reality slams into me. I rush to my closet, tripping and stumbling into the wall. Lost in my exhaustion and panic, I barely manage to grab a shirt to cover it.
I collapse on the floor like a garment that refuses to cling to a hanger. Stand up. Don’t let anyone see you like this, especially not Titus. He’d worry, see me as fragile.
Okay, I can’t stand, so I’ll crawl.
I make it to my bed and then using all my upper body strength, I pull myself into it. Tipping my head back, I look at the window. My world is upside down. Everything has changed.
If Galen had lingered longer, he would have seen the mark. Moisture beads on my forehead. My shirt clings to my damp back and chest, like a vest trying to cover the mark. Titus must have gotten his mark, too. I hope he’s still in my field, far away from Galen’s eyes and war.
My lids remain open wide, my lashes unmoved despite the desperate call to close them so the stinging stops. I gaze at the upside-down world. The weight of the ground now presses down on the clouds. On me.
The life I know is about to be torn open.
I’m not just referring to my failed peace-treaty marriage.
Everything I have bottled up inside, Titus will eventually drink down.
It will taint him because my scars and memories are too dark for someone as noble and heroic as Titus.
The selfishness of his actions will change.
I’ll change him, destroy him.
All this time, Titus has looked upon me as his queen, someone he could never afford.
The depressing truth is, it is I who can not afford him. You don’t toss an old rusty coin into a shining fountain in hopes that the water will clean it. The rust will spread, and soon the stunning fountain will be covered in grime.