Chapter 15
Ihad to admit, riding this close to Atlas was testing every ounce of my restraint not to squirm. Even now, knowing his name had an effect on me.
The problem with being pressed together like this for so long was that I didn’t know what to say. Every possible conversation starter sounded ridiculous in my head. For someone I’d once considered the enemy, speaking to him as whatever we were now felt infinitely harder.
Friends? Allies? Something else entirely? I didn’t know.
After a while, he must have sensed my unease, because he lowered his head closer to my ear. Close enough, in fact, that his breath tickled the side of my neck and I could feel the goose pimples spread across my entire body.
“Relax. You seem nervous.”
“Well, it would help if I knew where you were taking me,” I muttered, unable to keep the bite from my tone.
“You don’t trust me,” he said simply, and I scoffed.
“All things considered, I’d be lying if I said I completely trusted you. But I don’t entirely distrust you either… if that makes sense,” I admitted, and his soft laugh vibrated against my back.
“It does. And I find your honesty refreshing. Not many speak to me that way.”
Now it was my turn to laugh softly, before I asked the obvious.
“I take it that’s because you’re the King?”
“You’d be right,” he replied. “Aster is the only one with the courage to tell me what others wouldn’t dare.”
Yeah, I could imagine this of Aster.
“So, Aster isn’t just your second-in-command?” I ventured, curious.
He hesitated, then said, “If you asked him, he’d say he’s my best friend.”
I chuckled before pressing for more. “And if I’m asking you?”
“Yes,” he said after a pause, a small smile in his tone. “The Minotaur is, for all intents and purposes, my best friend. We actually grew up together.”
“You did?” I blinked, my voice rising in shock.
“You seem surprised,” he mused, his tone light and casual.
“It’s hard to picture you as a boy,” I admitted, hoping he didn’t take offence. But then he chuckled, and the sound felt low and rich, like velvet caressing skin, stirring something deep within me.
“Is it really so hard to believe I wasn’t always this way?” his lightheartedness gave me enough reason to keep the playful teasing going.
“Yeah. Actually, it is.”
“Hmm,” he said, and the humor in his voice faded as he continued.
“It may be hard to believe, but I was not always… this. For the last three years, I’ve been consumed by trying to return home and to cleanse your world of the darkness that invaded it.
I can’t even remember the last time I allowed myself to indulge in anything amusing.
That was, until I met you,” he confessed, and his honesty caught me off guard, his tone dipping into something weary, then something deeply real.
“So, you see…” he continued, “You’re not the only one who changed.
” His words resonated with me, letting me know that we had more in common than I thought.
I’d spent so long focusing on what the Rift had done to me, I’d never considered what it had done to him or to his people.
I swallowed, deciding to take advantage of this rare openness.
“The dark ones… what are they?” I asked, the question barely a whisper.
His body tensed behind me, his hands tightening around the reins.
“Honestly… I don’t know,” he admitted, and I turned my head slightly toward him, startled.
“You don’t know?”
“As King, I lead my armies, it is the way of our people…” he said, his tone low but steady.
“The day the Rift opened up, we had received word of a dangerous force in one of our cities. I rode out with part of my army to meet them. But when we found them…” His voice grew quieter, more distant, like he was giving himself time to relive the memory.
“By the time we reached the city, it was already too late. They had come and gone, leaving nothing behind but ruin. Not a single soul had survived.”
My breath caught. “No!” I gasped.
“Seeing this, I ordered my men forward. We pursued them, hoping to capture the ones responsible and make them answer for what they had done. But the moment we engaged…” He paused, the reins creaking faintly in his grip.
“…The Rift opened. It tore the veil between our worlds apart, and before I could stop it, it swallowed us whole. My army, my people gone, ripped between realms. And I too was caught in its grasp.”
I didn’t dare speak. The only sound was the rhythmic clop of Acelin’s hooves.
“I thought, at first, we’d entered another one of the realms that surrounded The?kós, but it was something else. Something older. A gateway that had been closed for over two thousand years… and for good reason,” he added.
“And the reason?” I asked carefully, but he let out a long sigh.
“Not one I wish to discuss with you yet.” His tone softened, a gentle refusal, not a command. I accepted that, for now, as I didn’t want to push it while he was talking and being so open with me.
“And these dark ones… they are your enemies?”
“That’s the strange part.” He exhaled, and the sound carried weight before he continued. “The army I saw that day, they were my own people.”
“What?” I breathed.
“Honestly, I don’t fully understand it all yet, but it was as if they’d been infected.
Corrupted by a force that twisted their minds and devoured their souls, turning them into something monstrous.
Creatures consumed by darkness. And from what more I’ve seen of them here, they’re mindless and void of mercy,” he admitted desolately.
Then he fell silent again, and for a moment, the only heartbeat I could hear was his, steady against my back. A reminder that despite the centuries of command and power in his voice, he was still a man carrying the weight of his own ghosts. The weight of his people crushing against his shoulders.
“But who could have done something like that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His silence stretched so long that I thought he wouldn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his tone was low and haunted.
“Unfortunately, I still don’t know and without a way home, I fear I never will.”
I nodded in understanding. A quiet ache filled the air between us, carried on the rhythm of Acelin’s hooves.
“Know this… From the moment we stepped through that Rift, we’ve been fighting to rid your world of the same dark essence that took ours. It has never been about just saving my people, it’s about saving yours, too.”
“It is?” I asked, the revelation startling. Oh, how wrong I had been.
“We managed to capture a few of the afflicted,” he continued to explain, ignoring my realization. “We studied them. Tried to find a way to bring them back.” His voice faltered slightly as if the memory assaulted him.
“But there were no mages powerful enough among us. Magical creatures, yes. Soldiers. Myths, as you call them… But none capable of countering that level of corruption.”
My throat tightened at how hard this must have been for him.
“So, you really did try to help that day.”
“I’ve been trying to help since the beginning,” he said humbly. “But mortal eyes saw one monster and labelled us all as monsters. It’s easier that way, to fear what you don’t understand.”
I tensed, knowing that he was right and that I had done the exact same thing.
He paused, then added quietly, “My people fight because they must. But the power to kill does not mean the desire to do so.” His words struck deeper than I expected.
But hearing it now, the weight behind his voice, I realized it wasn’t cruelty that had driven him, it was loss and obligation.
“At one time, the creatures you call Myths were peaceful. The city we tried to defend hadn’t merely been destroyed, it had been turned against itself.
Women and children were slaughtered by their own family members.
The spell… it must have targeted the men first, and then some of the women. Half the city then turned on the rest.”
“That’s… terrible.” My chest ached.
“Yes, just as terrible as what has happened here to your own people,” he commented sincerely, and he wasn’t wrong there, but I appreciated that he recognized that.
“I’m sorry your people were persecuted for trying to help us and that we branded them under the same tarnished brush as the monsters that destroyed everything… and that we never stopped to see the difference,” I said, hoping that same sincerity transferred over into my voice.
In fact, I was about to thank him for trying to help us when I felt his hand, steady and warm, press gently against my belly, drawing me back against him. My breath caught.
“Thank you,” he whispered, like my words had meant something to him.
“For what?” I managed to push out, my voice thick with emotion.
“For understanding, despite everything you’ve endured,” he replied, and after how I had treated him, I felt as if I didn’t deserve his admiration.
“I guess part of me is ashamed of how I’ve treated you. Like you said, I didn’t give you much of a chance to prove otherwise.”
His chuckle was low, deep, and dangerous. “You did attack me in your dreams.”
“Well, you were infuriating,” I shot back, making him laugh at that, the sound rich and warm, chasing away some of the heaviness that clung to the air between us after such a difficult conversation.
“I guess if we’re handing out thanks, then I owe you one,” I said.
“Why is that?” His voice was quieter now, like he was holding his breath, and I wished I could see his face.
“Thank you for sharing. I… I understand you better now. I see that we all have a common enemy, and it isn’t each other like I thought.”
He took in a heavy breath before masking it with a teasing tone when he asked, “Does this mean you no longer think of me as the villain in your story?”
I smirked over my shoulder at him, looking up slightly, and his handsome face was so close. I knew I couldn’t keep eye contact for long; I need to hide my blush.