Chapter 44
M y wound is healed, but when Sin’s eyes lock mine, it’s as if my chest is still gaping, baring these blackest parts of my heart to him.
My wrists pivot and flex, puppeteering my army of the dead that has stoked an all-new motivation in our soldiers. Their faith renewed; the return of Sin’s magic a comfort that their goddess has not abandoned them in their darkest hour, and the sight of me, dripping with the blood of thousands but never raising a hand to my allies, a sure show that Elysande has not abandoned me . And as we finally shift the tide of this war, I take a step back, holding Sin’s stare before I turn and head for the shore.
The water laps my ankles as I wade in, and with a sweep of my hand, I call forth the blood in the sea. It comes to me at once, eager to please its master, and I guide it beneath me in a wave of crimson.
I hear the creaking of wood behind me, scent the hyacinths in the air, and I know he has followed me. I don’t look back, but I linger a few seconds, allowing Sin just enough time to shove the rowboat into the water behind me and climb in. And then with a brush of my hand, the wave propels both of us forward. The red sea becomes a carpet beneath my feet as I skate across its surface, the tide keeping Sin’s boat directly behind me.
I scan the ships, knowing exactly which one belongs to their king. How convenient that one lingers behind the others, so content to allow his subjects to pave his path forward. Torin was so desperate for me to return to him, and I am now more than willing to fulfill that desire.
But first, I steer us towards the vessel on the left, the one sailing directly for the elven fleet that is now within range of their ballista and cannons. They don’t see me as I approach, which is a shame because I would have loved for them to glimpse the witch on the water, knowing she has come to reap them. They’re preparing to ignite the cannons, and I flex my shield around Baelliarah’s vessel, this time stretching it with ease as if it were wet clay in my hands. I hear the order to fire, and the smile that erupts across my face is almost painful.
There’s a crackling as the cannons ignite, and then the ship erupts into a roaring inferno, the flames climbing up my invisible shield like smoke caught between mirrors. I move around the ship, admiring how their own fire claims their lives, and when I pass the elven fleet, I don’t miss the glint of arrows notched in my direction.
Not in threat, but in warning.
But there’s only one elf I give my attention to as he steps onto the bow, his raven eyes bearing into mine. And then he must say something, because every arrow lowers in unison, and Vox nods, pressing his fist to his chest. Every elf behind him mirrors the action, and with a nod of my own, I circle the rear of the ship that now begins to split, the center caving in as it prepares to sink.
I snatch my ward back and project it around Sin and me, commanding the blood wave to carry us forward. Flames coruscate in my hands as I move through the rest of the fleet like a ghost in the water, igniting their ships until they are a raging incandescence on the horizon. And then, and only then, when he has been forced to watch as his entire fleet burns, I head for the king.
The darkness offers me cover as I sidle up to Torin’s ship. I reach for one of the nets strung over the side and climb my way up and over. They don’t have time to react before I’m ripping the blood from half of them and thrusting it at the others like daggered rain. As much as I’d like to see this ship cast in firelight, wood burns fast, and I refuse to allow Torin the satisfaction of going down with his ship. He will die by my hands—hands that will ensure there is no honor in his death.
I find his cabin near the stern of the ship. The locks on his door snap before me, and I find him at his desk, a letter clutched in his hand. Torin looks up with an expression far calmer than I was expecting, and he slowly rises from his chair and walks around to the front of his desk. I feel as my head cocks side-to-side, not fully in control of my own movements, my beast sizing him up from a series of angles.
He shakes the paper out in front of him. “A letter she wrote me. I wanted to read it one final time. To keep her close as I come find her in the next realm.” His words are wooden, and the whites of his eyes are spiderwebbed with red.
“You will not find her,” I vow, my voice low and ancient. “You will never find her because your spirit will never know rest. It is mine now, and I shall wield it for eternity to protect my own.”
Thrusting my hand forward so it hovers inches from his chest, I call on the blood pumping erratically in the valves there. And then I pull, and I pull, and I fucking pull , warm gore spraying my face as I force his heart to dislodge from its cavity and slap into my hand. It beats against my palm a few more times as Torin sags to the ground, and tilting my head back, I hold it above my mouth and allow it to drip onto my waiting tongue.
When I’ve had my fill, I fling it across the room and turn back towards the door.
If I thought my heart capable of anything other than pumping the copious amounts of blood I forced into it, it would have surely backflipped at the sight of Sin in the doorway. At the way he’s looking at me.
Love and longing and awe compete in his eyes, but there is also a hue of something else, something darker. A glimmer of wariness as he beholds me, assessing if he will spend the rest of his existence grieving his mad love, lost to her own bloodied curse.
I take a step towards him, and he doesn’t move. I take another.
And another.
He doesn’t give an inch, trusting that the wren he Bonded still flutters in my skin, his eyes locking permanently on mine, a silent plea for me to come back to him. Until I’m standing right in front of him, and it’s as if all the emotions I kept suppressed during the fight rear up inside me. The fear that had gripped my heart when I thought we had lost, the regret that burrowed into my bones as I leapt from that cliff. It all burbles in my chest, and my blood—some borrowed, some my own—courses too quickly in my veins. A barbed exhale escapes me, and I collapse.
Right into Sin’s arms.
He catches me as I fall, lowering to his knees with me draped across his arms, my chest exposed to the heavens. Everything begins to softly fade, but not before I feel the caress of his lips against my temple.
“Shh,” he hushes. “I have you. Sleep now, my blackest heart.”