Chapter 29
Valtar
I move blindly through the dark, little caring where I go.
This is where I belong, after all—in shadows with all the other shadow beings. All the other little hell-creatures which have invaded and poisoned this world. Her world.
I keep going, putting distance between us, the only safety I can offer her now. I continue down that tunnel until I come to the very brink of the drop-off, and the roar of the river fills my head. There I collapse, high above that rushing flow. My breath heaves in my lungs, burning in my chest.
Though the dark is absolute, I close my eyes—and instantly regret it.
For somehow, now that my vision no longer strains against blindness, images appear in the space inside my skull.
I see her face, upturned to mine. I feel the shape of her in my arms, the warm pressure of her lips, taste the sweetness of her tongue.
Her skin was so soft under my mouth save for those rough burn scars.
But they are precious to me as well, because they are all part of her, her, her.
How have I come to this? I thought myself an unassailable fortress, everything about my humanity locked down behind gates of iron and vast stone walls. But here she came, bursting through all my defenses like they’re mere gossamer.
I believed there was no force in this world greater than Mhoryga’s fire.
How wrong I was. How dangerously, stupidly, profoundly wrong.
“I can’t do it.”
The words emerge like knives, slicing my throat as they cut their way from my core.
Even in the dark pressure of the third trial, I’d still thought I could, still believed I was strong enough to ignore my own beating heart, to focus only on the task before me.
To kill her, subtly, secretly. To carve out her heart and bear my trophy back across the sea.
What a fool I was. A different person entirely from this more knowing, more broken version of myself who crouches here above the dark river.
I cannot do it. I cannot be the one to stop that heart of hers, the very heart I felt beating beneath my hungry lips when I held her in my arms. That heart, which has become like the sun in my sky, the source of all light and life.
I cannot be the one to put it out. I will not.
So what does this mean?
“Death,” I breathe. And with that word, I feel the draw of the river below me.
Not once since beginning my hideous service to Mhoryga have I seriously considered the prospect of self-end.
I know what death means for me—a worse hell even than the one I’m now living.
My soul is damned; there’s no point in denying it.
So why rush into the arms of damnation? Why give hell such easy satisfaction?
But now…now…
No.
I shake my head, breathing out slowly. I cannot die.
Because of Arun. His life is forfeit due to my failure.
Will I make him face his death alone? Surely if I am capable of any unselfishness, of any good, I can at least give my brother one small mercy.
I can stand at the stake and watch my brother’s end through a veil of consuming fire.
We will die together. Screaming, but not alone.
I rise, swaying on the edge of that drop.
Now that the fire in my blood has cooled, I find I am capable of rational thought and calculation once more.
It has been five days since the last time I missed my window of escape.
Since that fateful kiss which first set me on this cursed course.
I should have killed her then when I had the chance, but… too late for regrets.
Besides, if I’m honest, the moment her lips met mine, everything changed.
Love at first kiss? A pitiful notion, one fit only for romantic ballads.
And yet, from that moment of contact, this twisted, grotesque, monstrous thing which I call my heart belonged to her and no other.
I may have lied to myself day by day, hour by hour, sometimes moment by moment.
I may have convinced myself that I still meant to go through with the mission. But I never could. I never would.
And now, I must pay the price.
I turn to make my way along the cliff’s edge, following the river.
If I make haste, I may still catch the supply barges setting out from Stromin Palace.
I’ll do as I planned initially, hiding among the crates of the barges to the restocking point, then riding the counterweights of the haul lift up to the surface world.
I’ll make the rendezvous with Nyxia as planned and reveal my failure.
She will then take me prisoner, drag me back to Khylmira, and throw me at Mhoryga’s feet.
Meanwhile, perhaps this will give Rosie a little more time to make whatever escape she has planned.
Perhaps she will surprise them all—I’ve never met a spirit more determined or courageous.
Perhaps she will slip free of Alderin’s grasp and elude both him and Mhoryga for a few years at least.
In the end they will hunt her down, of course.
A curse thickens my throat. Gods damn it, if only I dared remain!
If only I dared finish this damned championship to claim her as my bride and devote the rest of my existence to protecting her.
But I know what will happen. Nyxia—the moment I am once more in her proximity, she will assert her will over mine.
I will be Mhoryga’s slave through Nyxia’s influence, turning on Rosie, slaughtering her without hesitation.
There can be no question about it: She’s better off without me.
With these thoughts, these doubts, these worries and convictions plaguing my mind, I hasten along the ridge above the rushing river.
I know my way well enough through this part of Stromin Palace and do not worry for lack of light.
In the distance, I hear the echo of bargemen’s voices as they prepare their crafts for the subterranean voyage.
I follow those sounds, confident in my course.
But before I come within sight of the barges, something strikes my senses with unexpected force. A shiver, a scent. An evil taste on the back of my tongue.
Hellfire.
“So, Champion Valtar. You show your true colors after all.”
Alderin’s voice emerges from the darkness on my right, sharp as a lance blade. I whirl to face him, even as he emerges from the dark, a strange chalice in his hands. From that chalice leaps a single green flame which dances and writhes, illuminating his features in a hellish glow.
Knives appear in each of my hands, extensions of my arms. I assume a defensive position, but subtly, taking care not to reveal my own unease. After all, we are not officially enemies. “And what true colors are those, Your Majesty?” I ask, keeping my tone level.
He smiles. Green light dances off his strong, even teeth. “Why, that you have fallen in love with Princess Roselle.”
Winter floods my veins, a rush of sudden frost. For a moment, I cannot speak, cannot even think to answer.
Alderin sighs, shaking his head. “Now, now, Valtar,” he says, patient and magnanimous.
“I certainly don’t blame you. After all, the girl is intrinsically lovable, isn’t she?
I wasn’t expecting that little complication myself.
It certainly makes things more…difficult.
I had hoped, when she first arrived, that she would demonstrate more overtly her mother’s nature, enough to help me and all the champions maintain a clear view of what must ultimately happen.
” His brow puckers, his expression momentarily regretful.
“I should never have given her to Durona. Trust that woman to go instilling honor and nobility in the heart of her little dragon charge! If anyone could do it, she was the woman.”
He’s not talking to me—I haven’t the faintest idea who this Durona is. I won’t let him lull me into complacency, however. I shift subtly on my feet, bettering my angle. “The princess is indeed noble and brave,” I say. “But I do not love her.”
Alderin laughs. He throws back his head, uttering a deep-bellied burst that echoes up and down the passage behind him.
“Don’t mistake me for a fool, boy! Call it what you like, but I know love when I see it.
I understand better than most, after all.
I understand what it means to love a dragon.
” He shakes his head then, his smile lopsided and rueful.
“And she doesn’t seem very dragon-like, does she?
So fresh and lovely, so whimsical and delightful.
” His eyes harden, two flints in his skull.
“But we cannot forget the truth. We cannot forget either what she is or what she was brought into this world to do.”
“I’ve not forgotten.”
“So you claim.” He takes a step toward me, that hellflame of his wafting strangely, illuminating his pale eyes in a green glow.
He has brought no guards with him. Though I search for them in the passage behind his back, I sense nothing but hollow emptiness.
“She is a dragon, Prince Valtar. A dragon. A demon incarnate, death to all who fall under her spell. Just like her mother before her.”
I meet his gaze. “You don’t believe that.”
“Don’t I?” He lifts a brow. “I confess, I don’t want to.
Indeed, part of my heart even now resists the idea.
” His expression shifts then, all trace of either sadness or regret banished behind a mask of severe stone.
“But I know firsthand what it is like to live enthralled to a dragon queen. To worship her majesty, to bask in her beauty, to live in the light of her smile. To find myself enslaved to her lusts and appetites.”
His words strike my ears, bearing with them a truth I would not have dared imagine. But now, hearing him speak, I realize what it is he is telling me. Horror yawns in my chest.
“You,” I say, and stop, uncertain I can bear to continue. “You are her—”