Chapter 41
S in looks at me. I look at him.
Silence drags on between us. Only seconds endure but even that is far too long with death hovering just beyond us in the roar of the Howling Sea.
But up here on this ledge, there is only all-knowing quiet.
Until it is anything but.
“What did you just say to me?” he asks, his words dripping with rancor.
“My magic is rooted in Source. I can’t take the god power out of the dagger, but if you put the dagger into my heart, I’ll be able to siphon it directly. And only then, once it’s in my veins, I can transfer it back to you.”
Sin studies me, half of his face twisted into a scowl, but the other half not quite symmetrical, as if my words have snagged on a thought of his own. He knows I’m right. Whether he wants to admit it or not.
“Why into your most vital organ? If it’s your blood it needs, a slice to the palm works just as well.”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes. “I am a bloodwitch, Singard. To channel enough Source to overpower the pull of those rubies, I need Adelphia’s magic where I am strongest. My heart pumps every single drop of blood in my body. It needs to be there. This is what Aeverie was trying to tell me; I’m sure of it.”
“I’m not stabbing you in your godsdamned heart, Wren.”
“It isn’t an option, Singard—you must. Our people need a leader down there!” I say, motioning to the bend in the cliff that leads to where our army fights many stories beneath us. “As soon as they blow our fleets out of the water, the rest of Torin’s men will be storming this beach in minutes. It will not be heavy casualties on our side—it will be a massacre , Singard.” My voice wavers, the word lodging in the back of my throat.
“You’re a bloodwitch, Wren. It’s not me they need, it’s you.”
“They do not trust me!” I shout. “Some may be wary of you still, but they at least trust you on the battlefield. You are Singard fucking Kilbreth , and you have fought side-by-side with them for more than a decade. They may fear you, but they respect you, and they trust you, Sin,” I repeat.
“They will trust whoever turns the tide in this war,” he growls.
“But I cannot lead them! My magic is destructive,” I choke. “I am designed to kill, and once I drop that leash, the blood will frenzy my mind completely. Every thought I have will be smeared in blood, and I will be at constant war to keep my creature’s sights locked on our enemies, and only our enemies. I will be of no mind to lead. It is not what I was created to do.”
Sin goes quiet, and he averts his eyes, the muscles along his jaws feathering and his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. I swallow hard, watching as he considers. His head shakes slightly, mostly to himself, and his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.
“Even if I healed you immediately afterwards, there is no telling that I will be quick enough. I will not take that kind of risk with you. The answer is no.”
“THEN THEY WILL DIE, SINGARD!”
Tears spring from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks in slow, fat trickles. “If we do not at least try to save them, all of us will die. We will only be delaying the inevitable. Singard, I am asking you to trust me. Please . I need you to trust me.” My last words come out in nothing more than a whisper.
A shuddering exhale, and he looks away again, torturing his bottom lip. He’s still shaking his head slightly, but I know he’s considering it. He wouldn’t have looked away from me if he wasn’t.
“I can feel that this is the right thing. If there is ever anything you can give me, it is to trust me right now, when I need you to the most. Please, my love.”
Several moments pulse between us, and I say nothing, granting him the time he needs to accept this truth. When he finally turns to look at me once more, there is glass in his eyes. His jaw is set, and heat rolls off him, his every nerve turned to flint. He dips his head to motion to my cuirass.
“Take it off,” he orders, and I hear the pain underlining his growl.
I hurry to unfasten the buckles and clasps of my cuirass and drop it to the ground, leaving me only in my black gambeson. Well-suited for protecting against slashes, but it will do little to stop a knife from being punched into my chest.
He holds out his hand, and I place the blade into his palm, trusting that he won’t chuck it off the ledge in a fit of rage.
Sin and I have clawed and torn at each other more than any Mated couple probably ever has. We have questioned each other’s intentions countless times, both of us always scrutinizing, and at least one of us scheming. But we are done dancing to that damning lullaby.
We spin to a new tune now, one sung with a love as wild and savage as war drums. Sin steps up to me, reversing the blade in his grip. He reaches out and gently moves my braid over my shoulder so it falls down my back. Then he kisses me. Slow and deep, and I swear I feel the slightest tremble of his lips against mine.
That’s when I feel the impact.
A long, breathless sound bubbles out of my lungs, and I look down, eyeing the crossguard that now rests against my chest like vicious jewelry. And that’s when I feel the heat . A broil deep in my chest, as if my very soul ignited and now lies trapped behind my ruined flesh.
The steel in my heart is torturous.
But the surge of god magic that follows is excruciating .
My mouth opens to scream, but the only sound that comes out is a strangled gasp. Sticky warmth floods my mouth, my blood thick in the bars of my teeth, and it bursts from between my lips, running down my chin.
Sin grabs both sides of my jaw, and he tilts his forehead to mine. “Quickly, Wren. Do it now.” He snarls the words but there is no hiding the panic in them.
Adelphia’s magic is lightning in my nerves. It pounds in my veins, the swell of magic too thick for my capillaries, and my blood races impossibly fast through my limbs. Every part of me wails at the fire in my skin, but none more so than my chest, where an incandescence rages across my heart, feasting on every valve and chamber.
Darkness encroaches my sight, and if Sin wasn’t holding me so tightly, I’d have already fallen to my knees before him.
“You need to give it to me,” he says hurriedly, his thumbs rubbing furious circles against my cheeks. “Let me take it from you, love. Now .”
His breath is hot on my face, and a small drop of something wet trickles onto my nose. Strength ebbs out of me in pulsing waves, as if the more god magic my heart absorbs, the more my own resolve dissipates. My body cannot hold it, but Sin is goddess-blessed. His collective can shoulder this weight, and that sends a pang of regret deep into my chest for having to restore this burden to my Mate.
The blessing he never wanted.
I tilt my head back and force myself to meet Sin’s bleary eyes. And in this moment, I hate myself more than I ever hated him on our worst days. Because the final piece of this wretched riddle snaps into place, and I know what I must do.
I asked Sin to trust me, and he will spend a lifetime regretting that decision.
“Now, love. Open up those veins for me.”
I realize then that he’s feeling for my magic with his, trying to pull it from me like he’s done before. But this kind of magic can’t be taken; it must be gifted.
I lick the rust from my lips and press my mouth to his. Adelphia’s magic is tethered to my own blood, and so I bite into Sin’s tongue, letting our gore mix and mess in his mouth.
One final, blood-soaked kiss.
I know the exact moment Adelphia’s magic takes hold of him, feel it in the sudden tightening of his muscles, hear the slightest of gasps from his chest, as the power settles back into its home.
I step back from him then, quickly putting steps between us.
He runs the back of his hand over his mouth, but his eyes are trained on me, a line splitting the skin between his brows as he prepares to heal me. But as I take another few steps, his stare darkens to something malignant, his wet eyes dropping to my weeping chest.
When our positions were reversed and I had stabbed Sin with this dagger, it took every ounce of my essence to heal that kind of damage. This isn’t just a stab wound; my very meat has been imbued with the toxins of god magic. If Sin heals me, it will drain him completely, and then we will be in a worse position than where we started.
It is her heart that decides the rest .
Such pretty words for something so cruel. But dying in the place of the ones I love is a gift most are never offered.
“Wren, come to me,” Sin says slowly, his words now without a trace of aggression. “Come to me, heart. Please.”
Raising a hand, he takes a step forward, and I retreat one, my heels grazing the edge of the cliff. His hand pauses mid-air, and he turns his palm towards me, cautioning. A promise not to grab me, but I know better.
Sin will never let me go.
I know this, because I wouldn’t let him go either. I have seconds before he grabs me, and with his blessing restored, he’ll be much swifter than before.
I wish I could speak. Tell him how sorry I am. That for every quarrel we fought, the love we share has always been the most ferocious beast between us.
I only wish we could have tamed it. Because then this would hurt a whole lot fucking less.
He says my name. I close my eyes.
That’s when I lean back and fall over the cliff.