Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Malakai
“You…what?” Cypherion nearly dropped the liquor bottle.
“It’s over,” I repeated. The words were like an iron brand dragging up my throat. I gripped the mantel in Cyph’s office until the wood groaned beneath my hands. It would only be fair to break something as I’d been broken, to destroy—
Cyph removed one of my hands from the wood, shoving a glass in it instead. I didn’t know what it was, but it was strong and that was what mattered. I didn’t hesitate to down the damn thing.
At first, it only made the burning in my chest worse, but after Cyph refilled the glass and I threw that one back, it soothed.
He fell onto the green velvet couch, his own drink in hand. “Are you okay?”
I paced before the fire, searching the study for an answer.
The room was almost entirely warm colors with plush jade couches and dark wood furnishings.
Comforting amid the turmoil of my night.
The books lining the shelves and maps sprawled across the desk were cozy—worn but not cluttered.
Organized, everything having its precise place according to Cyph’s astute mind.
My thoughts were nowhere near as orderly. “Yes and no.”
Cyph reclined, one arm slung across the back of the couch, waiting for me to continue. Looking like he’d sit there all night if need be.
“Yes, I’m okay because I know it was the right decision.”
“You do?” There was a hint of skepticism in his voice.
I nodded. “I’ve been denying it for weeks now because…
just because.” I didn’t want to crack the bars of my heart open enough to explain how I’d been clinging to the only thing left in my life that resembled the before.
Everything had changed when I was gone. My friends had grown, my family had fallen apart—I’d wanted one thing to remain.
I’d wanted her to remain.
But that was out of my control.
“I never would have brought it up.” I leaned against the back of the couch, watching the flames in the grate burn higher. “I would have kept fighting.”
“Maybe you weren’t fighting for anything,” Cyph hedged. “It seems you were fighting against it.”
“Fuck.” I blew out a breath, stuffing my hands in my pockets and nudging the toe of my boot against the wall. “I hate you sometimes.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right.” I waved off the apology and grabbed my empty glass, falling onto the couch opposite his, leaning forward and bracing my elbows on my knees. “I know you’re right and that’s why I’m okay. Partially.”
“But the other part?”
“That half of me was always hers. Before I left…well, shit, you know how we were. I lived and breathed for her.” And fuck if that half didn’t hurt like I’d been flayed open. “I don’t know what to do with it now. I gave up everything, sacrificed so much for her.”
“So did she. Ophelia was a wreck for two years when you were gone. Constantly fighting with everyone, drowning her sorrows in drinks, or holing up to find answers. She changed. The way you two were…it was unhealthy.” He leaned forward, poured a little bit more into my glass.
“I’m not trying to be an ass, Mali, but you two both sacrificed a lot for each other.
To the point where you couldn’t stand on your own.
” He lifted his glass to me. “That half that was hers…it belongs to you now, brother. You have to live for yourself before you can live for anyone else.”
Live for myself. I wasn’t sure I knew how to do that. How to identify what I wanted and just…take it. How to outrun my past.
I dragged a hand through my hair. “I guess I’ll have to figure it out.”
“I have faith in you.” That made one of us. Inside, I was so twisted by the torment I’d suffered mentally, physically, and emotionally that I’d lost hope of recovering.
“Can I ask…” Cyph’s eyes went to my chest.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. I placed a hand over the Bind. It had echoed with silence since I left Ophelia. I worried what she was doing now. How she was coping. I hated her being alone, and thanks to the distance in the Bind, I couldn’t judge any of her emotions.
“It never worked right,” I explained. Cyph lifted a brow. “We always claimed it was because I left so soon after they’d been inked, but we’ve been together for over a month now and…it still didn’t work.”
“You’ve been fighting,” Cyph offered, but his voice lacked conviction. He ran a hand over the back of his neck—his Bond.
“It was more than that.” Like the magic in the ink knew what was coming.
“But I don’t really know what we can do about it.
” Maybe I’d talk to Marxian once I recovered from the shock.
The artist might know how to undo the tattoo.
Though, I had to admit, I’d never heard of it being done.
Mystique tattoos operated at a soul level.
They bound those who had them for eternity.
Unless we could find a way to undo it, Ophelia and I were forever tethered through the Bind.
“Spirits,” I groaned, shoving the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Why the fuck would fate allow us to tie ourselves together like this if only to rip us apart?”
Cypherion considered. “There’s a reason for everything.”
“Seems cruel,” I scoffed.
“I never said it wasn’t.”
We fell into a contemplative silence. I was grateful—surprised—that Cyph had been alone when I knocked on his door. It appeared the fates did look out for me occasionally.
“Can I ask one more thing?” He fidgeted with his glass, and I sat up straighter, nodding. “Does this decision have anything to do with T—”
“No,” I interrupted, my fingers curving around my glass. “No, it doesn’t. This was only about us.”
His lips thinned. “I had to be sure.”
“I understand.” I sipped my drink. “To be honest, I don’t think that could have been farther from her mind.”
“She doesn’t know?” His brows rose.
“I think—” I shook my head. “I can’t be sure.
” I didn’t know if anything had happened while I was gone; it was a distant idea in my mind, but I didn’t want to ask Cyph right now.
A growl rumbled in my chest at the thought.
“But everything between us has been so fucked up—everything in her life really—it’s taken every strand of her energy to hold herself together.
There hasn’t been time for thoughts of…any of that. ”
I hated that I had a hand in making her that way. We were both to blame.
Cyph blew out a breath, shoulders drooping. Every move was heavy, weighted by the precarious future we faced and the relationships shifting around us.
Ophelia’s stare as we lay on the bed after that last time was seared into my brain.
I’d seen her furious, I’d seen her distraught, but now she’d been haunted.
Uncertain. Things I’d never associated with her.
Had that been how she looked the years I was imprisoned?
Was that vacancy the person our friends had kept afloat?
Spirits, if that was true, we really didn’t belong together. Because that look in her eyes—there was nothing I could do that would undo this mess.
I guess some forevers weren’t meant to survive. I threw my head back against the couch, clenching my eyes shut until I saw stars, like that could rid my memory of the imprint of her haunted stare.
But it wouldn’t leave.
“I fear this might truly break her,” I whispered.
“Look at me,” Cyph snapped. “She needed to break.”
I nodded, though I didn’t know if I understood.
He continued, “Don’t worry about her now.
She’s survived so much, and if this is what breaks her, then it’s long overdue.
I have no doubt she’ll repair herself, and you know that, too.
You’re using her pain to drive yourself into a deeper hole of despair because it’s easier than pulling yourself out of it, but what you need to do is heal.
Fucking curses, Malakai, you’re just as broken as she is. ” That truth stung. “Focus on that.”
I swallowed. “Okay.” I hadn’t realized that one of my fingers was tracing the Bind over my shirt, but I dropped my hand to my side, searching the room for anything else to say. “Mind if I sleep in here?”
“Anytime.” Cyph rose, clapping me on the shoulder, and strolled from the room.
He returned a minute later with a stack of blankets and pillows. Tossing me some, he settled down onto his couch, stretching out.
The mystlights faded. Soon, his breathing evened out into a steady slumber. I laid on my back, eyes on the wood-paneled ceiling as if I could look through it and see the North Star above. I wondered how my North Star was fairing. Although, I guessed it was no longer my right to call her such.
Still, I’d meant what I said before I left. It may not be in the way it once was, but I would love Ophelia until the stars stopped shining.