Chapter 45 #2
I pull my blade free and close the distance. Galen knows he’s cornered. A raise of my hand would cover him in flames. But that’s too easy. “Take your sword out and fight me,” I demand. Burnt vines crunch under my boots.
He smirks at the floor of his roses. The petals are thick and saturated with fragrance; they’ll take time to burn. He levels me with a cold winner’s stare. “No.”
His reply feels like a hidden attack I didn’t anticipate.
“Burn me. Burn my body with honor. That’s what you do, isn’t it, Titus, the honorable soldier who won my war? You burn and bury. I heard that the men found it noble. I found it lacking. I hoped you’d die in battle. I never dreamed you’d win it all for me.”
His chest widens with a lungful of smoky air, and my eyes narrow.
“You won,” he admits as he nods. “You took my crown, depleted my magic. I could draw my sword and fight you, or I could stand down, not rewarding you with the drenching of my blood upon your blade. A weapon I gifted you. I might die, but in the end, I won this battle.” He leans closer without fear.
“I denied your predator a kill it craved. Hungered for!”
He tips his head back and laughs in my face.
Each exhale fans my flames, but deep inside, water is poured on my vengeance.
“Some battles are fought with swords; others are won with words.” He opens his arms and mockingly bows.
He’s right.
I hate it. I want to lash out, cover Galen in flames, so his wicked tongue curls and withers away. How did this happen? How did Galen beat me?
“Your mistake was fishing with no bait,” Galen continues. “I see your wants, a need to slay me in battle so you can wear that badge when you return to Selene. I refuse to bite. You may take my throne, wield my crown, but you will not have my honor.”
“Honor?” Now I laugh. “All your life, you have given orders. It’s time you tried on a different pair of shoes, a soldier whom you so carelessly place into battle.”
He kicks his foot out, rolling his ankle; his eyes reveal the truth as they gaze at his burnt roses; his smile isn’t genuine. “I rather like my shoes and prefer to die in them.”
Talking is granting him more time in this world. It’s done. “And so you shall.”
Flames seep out from my feet, racing over the brown, crispy grass, closer and closer to him.
Wait, I’m giving him the death he wants. It’s an order that I’m obeying.
I raise my sword. Molten shades of citrine encompass Galen, reflecting off the sharp edge of my blade. His smile is ice that slips out of a cup. Left alone to melt and die slowly.
Galen’s pride jolts. The admittance he’s not getting the last order granted slips free like a balloon, before he recovers and realizes it’s attached to a string. There is no escape.
I glide like wind, sailing forward, the tip of my blade pressing into his leather cuirass.
He didn’t wear his metal breastplates; riding southeast meant no foes would confront him.
His eyes drift down, looking at the sword.
I press my torso into the hilt, and a slight pinching snap signals that the leather cuirass has been sliced.
I watch for his attack, but he’s got no magic, and his sword remains sheathed.
“You’re a coward,” I spit in his face. Crackling snaps of my flames egg me on.
“Yet I stand still, accepting death.” His eyes trace up my sword until our eyes join. His smile will torment me.
I failed. Sure, I’m going to kill him, but his words were an enemy I can not slay. His lack of reaction to death was a foe I did not anticipate.
My toes curl as I lean all my force into my right foot. My blade is sharp; it cuts flesh like butter, but once you’re deeper, you need more force. Muscles, tendons, and ribs. It’s all much harder. Slower.
Galen growls as my sword becomes a part of him. His body sways, not from pain but from determination to not give me an ounce of glory.
He leans into my blade, attempting to drive it deeper. I steer him back, refusing to allow him to kill himself. A grunt has my blade chipping his ribs, slicing through his lungs, and finally his heart.
Blood weeps from the wound, so much that it turns into a pool reflecting my fire, and his crumbling vines.
Your mission was to kill him; your goal was to make him suffer. You thought you lost, but in the end, you achieved what you needed to. The noble soldier in me tries to find reason.
Shut up!
I wanted his pain to be transformed into badges of honor that I could decorate myself with, so Selene could see.
His knees shake as mine do, but for a different emotion. His hands grab my wrist. Using my sword, I steer him down like a fork guiding meat. Controlled, deliberate, ready to be cut up, then devoured. He’s skewered against the smoldering floor, surrounded by his burning petals.
I drive that blade deeper and deeper, piercing the earth. Cursing it for birthing such a man.
I cover my body in flames, giving him a horror-filled image, before I allow the fire to consume him. The sound of a gargled laugh bubbles from his lips.
“I see it… in your… eyes. Failure. I… won…” His lips curl up, and his head tilts to the side.
All his roses fill his view. I lash out, burning them. I dig my fingers into his jaw, burning his flesh, forcing his eyes back on me. His life is fading, but his heart still beats, and each thump has more blood oozing from the wound.
“You think you’ve won,” I hiss. I unbuckle my cuirass, toss it into the flames, and rip open the collar of my undershirt. Through blurry vision, he spots my mate’s mark. “I won, Galen. I have what you never did. Selene is my mate. Mine.”
He tries to speak, urging death one moment of hesitation so that he can taint my victory again. I shove my fingers into his mouth, discharging the heat of my fire. A tortured wail rumbles through his body. There, his eyes shift into a beggar’s, calling for death to take him.
“Never again will you speak.” I stand and spit embers onto him. I step back. “Never again will I allow a man like you to rule these lands.”
I glance at the fire as it jumps and picks him apart like a bird of prey.
“Have your way with him,” I tell my flames. They sizzle with glee as they cover his body, boiling and blistering his skin. I watch as he takes two more breaths, and then his chest rises no more.
Fire and salt coat my tongue. Bitterness. His death was too simple.
“It’s done,” Ryker’s deep voice presses into me from a distance. He gently pushes the wind over the nape of my neck.
“He refused to fight me.” I glare at Galen’s body as it begins to melt away. I have only a few more minutes of magic left.
“In the end, the only thing that mattered was his death, Titus.” Ryker comes to my side, waiting for me to lower the flames on my body so he can come closer.
“You and I know that is a lie. It mattered. Greatly.” I bitterly keep my fire up. “I want to be alone.”
“That is why I will remain by your side.” He dares to step closer. I’m not controlling the heat. It pains him as he risks his flesh reaching out to grab me. For one second, the heat touches his fingertips. He’s a stubborn ass. He doesn’t flinch.
“Don’t let Galen win. You have the castle, the army, the queen, and this.” He grabs my hand. Galen’s crown fills my palm as Ryker forces my fingers closed. He steps back.
I despise this putrid lump of metal. Raising my hand, I pour every ounce of fire I have left into it. Watching as the metal gives way. I stride closer, hovering over Galen’s body, holding his melting crown out as it drips into useless nothing.
That is what his memory will be. Nothing.
I am a grain of sand, unsure whether I should scatter and seek solace or settle into a dune, pressing into the arms of my family who wish to make me into something solid.
This victory is lemonade made with rotten fruit and no sugar. I don’t want to gulp it down. “This is what you wanted, Everett. I’m king, but Adrian was right. I crave something else. No crown on my head, just the merit of my worth and actions. Kings do not bend knees to other kings.”
I cannot strip this world of titles; that will only cause more wars. “How do I stop an endless cycle, Everett?” I rasp.
Make them fight for the same cause. Make the protection of runes more important than castles and titles.
Is that the trick? What leashes them will also give them more magical freedom?
“Titus,” Ryker’s voice presses into my neck. The sun has settled into its morning position. Morning breakfast will be served with the news of my actions.
Oh, when did the fire turn to ash? Where are Galen’s bones? I step closer. No more. I’ve lingered too long. My magic is used up; consequently, my flames have vanished.
“That burden of uncertainty on your shoulders can be shared, brother. Everett made sure you had a net to catch you. I’m here.
” His hand gently touches my shoulder. “We do not have to solve every question; we need only answer the more pressing ones. We need to return and make sure the castle is secure.”
“How do I deliver victory when it’s served on a rusty platter?”
“You garnish it,” Ryker claps my back. “Focus on your next task and how it will change the world.”
I know my mate. She doesn’t like cherries on top; she likes the truth. I don’t know if Selene will forgive me for taking this kill from her.