Chapter Forty-Five
B ellamy allowed us one day to recuperate. When his fire had burned the bodies to ashes, we packed up and moved camp enough of a distance away for the smell of blood and burnt flesh to fade. Still, I thought the smell might never go away permanently, and it reminded me so much of Sipho that I sobbed all night, not daring to close my eyes.
The sight of the bodies, of the singed hair and my bloodied hands, had me reliving the night of his death over and over again. I could hear my own screams echoing in my head, see the blood from my bare body being thrown against the wall so hard my skull cracked, feel Sipho’s pain and agony being projected into the air, taste the rage on my tongue, and smell the fire burning through the male I loved.
I recalled my shame and how it prevented me from telling anyone what happened, how the grief had left me in bed for weeks. Xavier had visited me, apologized for what he had done, but ultimately blamed it on my own stupidity and recklessness.
Forgiveness had not come swiftly, but I had never outright shown my anger to him. He and Mia were all I had, their love and generosity had gotten me to where I was. Without them, I would probably have been dead. How could I not forgive him after everything he had done for me?
With their love in mind, I never argued or fought, never brought up what happened. When they told me I would not be permitted to visit his grave on Isle Healer, I waited until I was once more in my chambers to cry. When I wrote a letter to his family, Mia had stopped me from sending it, and I had said nothing.
I had been weak.
The following night, and the next, I dreamt of Sipho. I pictured what our lives could have been, the way our younglings might have looked, what sort of home we would have built. And at the end of my dreams, I killed him. Every time. He would die in my arms, begging me to spare him, just as he had that night so long ago. I would shatter him, watch his soul leave this world, and then I would weep upon his body.
On the day we were supposed to begin our final stretch of the trip, Bellamy awoke me from a particularly bloody variation of the nightmare. He had looked into my eyes, his face full of an anguish that likely mirrored my own, and opened his mouth to speak. I quickly shook my head, not needing the reassurance that they had all been trying to give me. I knew what I was, and perhaps it was time I embraced it.
I was the death of all things good, it was what I had always been, what I was meant to be. I had no idea where I would go after I met King Adbeel, or what I would do. Going back home was unlikely, and even I knew that there was no real place for me in Eoforhild, unless I wanted to be used as a weapon and then discarded. So maybe I did not have to grasp at that conscience that I had so desperately clung to as a fae princess. There was no longer a need for it.
Bellamy handed me the satchel of my clothes, staring at me for another moment before exiting the tent. Noe was already awake, her eyes trained on me just as her prince’s had been. She was worried, I could feel it tainting the air.
Noe had weak mental walls, and it was all too easy to see the images she remembered of me taking my dagger to O’Malley, of the way I murdered with ruthless efficiency. Her excitement, her sense of rightness at my actions, jarred me. She was not scared of me. No, she respected and agreed with my choices on that battlefield.
That was far worse.
After getting dressed and eating a hasty breakfast, we set off, pushing on until the sun began to set. The group spoke on and off, laughing and arguing as usual. I reinforced my mental shields, not wanting to hear any projected thoughts or feel any heavy emotions.
My own head was enough today.
The others asked for the information I gleaned from the mind of O’Malley Harligold, and I told them with as much strength as I could manage, detailing out his slave trade, the royals contacting him, and even their desire for Bellamy’s head.
It jarred the Trusted, the idea that demons would turn on their own. Bellamy, on the other hand, had scoffed, deeming it “predictable.”
“They hate me; they always have. I am an outsider. Seeing me dead and off the throne would please more than it would anger,” he said.
The next few miles were spent strategizing for this new discovery, attempting to outplan and outsmart the royals. Surprisingly, no one suggested just sending me back.
When we stopped, I refused the training session with Henry. He had tried to joke, saying that slitting a few throats did not make me an expert. At my flinch, Bellamy smacked Henry upside the head. When Cyprus laughed, Bellamy smacked him too.
They all walked on eggshells around me from there on, too afraid that they would be the reason I tipped over the edge. Even Noe, with her loud personality, did not dare to say more than a few words to me. They gave me space, and I took it gladly.
When we finished eating, I wandered over to the edge of the mountain side, staring off into the snowy distance and wondering how I would feel when this was all said and done. When I refused whatever the offer would be from the demon king, maybe I could travel.
I had always wanted freedom to see the world. There were far more mortal lands than demon or fae, I could always go to one of those kingdoms. But then what would happen to my friends back home? To Bellamy and his Trusted? War would come, and no one would be safe. There had to be some way I could change the tide. For all my many faults, I knew I had the potential to prevent total destruction, it was the how that evaded me.
Bellamy walked up behind me, cutting off my planning. He said nothing, merely calling on his fire, creating a flame in his palm the same way he had the night we met. Just like he did then, Bellamy held the fire in front of me. I smiled in thanks but remained quiet.
It was not long before he broke the silence.
“A gold piece for your thoughts?” he asked.
I snorted, looking over to him with raised brows.
“That is a hefty price for a mere thought,” I said.
“Yours are worth far more,” he responded with a dimpled smile. His body slid closer to mine, the air around him warm and inviting.
I rolled my eyes but smiled back despite myself. Hating him would make this all easier. He waited for my answer, but it would not come. Any plans I made would need to stay private, because I doubted he would let me leave if his king—his father—ordered me to stay.
“Okay, how about I tell you what I am thinking? Free of charge.” When I said nothing, he continued. “I am thinking that you are being too hard on yourself.”
Huffing out a low breath, I relented.
“I know what I am. I have always known. There is no reason to deny or fight it anymore,” I muttered, looking straight ahead at the snowy scene. Bellamy scoffed, extinguishing his fire. Peering at him from the corner of my eye, I saw him cross his arms. “What a noble and mature prince you are.”
“Taking life is never easy, but sometimes it is necessary. Doing so does not make you evil,” he whispered, as if it were something he still needed to convince himself of. I nodded absently.
There was no such thing as good and evil, nor had there ever been. But I knew who I was, I knew how little good existed in me. My powers had never been pure like that of other fae, and that tainted me, blackened my heart. It was far more than any one being should possess—the ability to manipulate the minds of others. Like playing a god or masquerading as Eternity.
The demon seemed to notice how little his words swayed me, because he heaved a sigh and grabbed onto my hand, dragging me back to the others. I allowed him to pull me, thinking of how his hot skin felt against mine, the sense of rightness that always came with his presence.
I watched him as they all talked amongst themselves, noting the way he seemed to lean towards me. It was the same way I always gravitated to him. Bellamy and I were both fighting to be something we never could be—resisting the urge to be what we always would be.
Out of thin air, a pencil appeared, wrapped with a piece of paper. I jumped, the sight catching me off guard and sending me sprawling to the snow. Bellamy chuckled, catching it and standing, his free hand reaching out to haul me upright.
“How?” I asked as he lifted me to my feet, intrigued by the sight. In the Fae Realm, we used messenger ravens. Never whatever that was.
“I laced the pencil with my essence. Our king has long since studied ways to intertwine our magic with objects. Similar to how I am able to call upon tents and cloaks and quilts, so too can I be made aware of someone touching those objects. I felt the pencil being used, and when it was let go, I called it to me. Quite an effective way of communication,” he bragged.
Cocky demon.
Panic seized me though as I watched Bellamy’s face contort from humor to fear. Whatever he was reading, nothing good would come of it.
The others seemed to agree, rushing at us with concern and apprehension. The demon prince did not notice, did not so much as move as he stared at the paper in his hands. I wanted to beg him to just tell us already, but Noe beat me to it, snatching the paper from his hands and reading once. Twice. A third time.
She looked up, her eyes roving over the group, then landing on me. She stared at me in horror as she spoke.
“Pino says he sees danger ahead. Something is coming.”