Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ophelia
It had a fucking ribbon on top of it. Blood soaked into the tattered edges where they trailed to the ground.
A gift.
A cruel vow steeped in blood.
Whose blood was the question. Because that dagger piercing the note—
Holy fucking Angels.
I screamed, vaguely aware of people gathering. That dagger stared at me, taunting me, twisting every shred of my heart.
My knees buckled, but Rina held me up. Cyph stepped forward and braced my elbow.
“Wh-who…what…” I couldn’t even get the words out.
My lungs. They couldn’t work right. Just clenching in small gasps.
Cyph’s face was pale as he barked instructions to search every inch of the grounds, dismissing every lower-rank warrior. My sister rubbed soothing circles across my back, but the pressure burrowed through my spine, around my ribs, into my heart.
All I saw was the ornate V etched into the handle of that dagger and the solid grip I’d seen use it countless times. The cocky smirk and wink as he threw it.
All I heard was his voice. I’ll see you in three weeks’ time, Alabath.
Blood leaked red and true, inching toward me. I couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t look away from it. It wouldn’t stop.
Whatever was in that fucking box was damaged, likely beyond repair.
Who was I kidding, with that much blood that box likely held…
pieces of someone. Bile climbed up my throat, and I clung to Rina.
My nails dug into her arm, leaving crescent marks, but nothing could hurt as badly as the sight of his dagger.
Tolek…
“Ophelia,” Jezebel muttered.
My head snapped up. “What?” I breathed.
“Did you hear what we said?” Jezzie’s face was pale.
“N-no,” I stammered, shaking my head, looking around. Everyone was here, eyes wide and fearful—my friends, the delegates, the council, Barrett and Dax…Malakai. He stood on the third stair, arms crossed, lips a tight line. But there was concern in those narrowed eyes, in his clenched jaw.
“We have to open it,” he said.
My heart thundered against my ribs as I stepped forward. Beside the dagger, a smaller item I hadn’t noticed before reflected the light: my pin. The world spun, but I breathed over it, taking the gift I’d sent with Tol and tucking it into my pocket.
Trying to pull myself together for those watching, I eased the dagger out of the box.
The paper fluttered away, the one word printed on it dancing in the wind: Ophelia.
A gift for me. When it landed on the stair, face down in the sticky crimson puddle, the faint embossing in the corner caught the light: TV.
I curled my fingers tighter around the dagger. They’d taken paper from Tol’s personal journal. I slid his weapon beside mine on my thigh, knowing exactly where I’d prefer to plunge it.
With a deep breath I threw off the lid and stumbled back into Cypherion. A metallic tang filled the air, wrenching gasps of disgust from our group.
The box was full—nearly to the brim. Dark, thick blood sloshed within.
So much of it. Chunks floated in the center—ice.
As if they’d frozen the contents, defrosting it only once it reached us.
How they managed that I didn’t know, I didn’t care, because whoever this blood belonged to… they clearly were no longer alive.
Cypherion grabbed the note, careful to avoid the scarlet stains. I’d never seen his hands shake before, but now they trembled.
“Ophe—” He cleared his throat. “Ophelia, you ferocious, wicked little thing. Remember, sacrifice is a skill we must conquer. Will it be your blood or his that coats the altar?”
I might have screamed. I couldn’t be sure if the sound broke from my lips or echoed through my head.
“P.S.,” Cypherion continued. “The scar on his thigh is lovely. In two weeks, he’ll start receiving a matching one each day, unless I see you first.”
Fury rolled through me hotter than the heart of the Spirit Volcano. And I swore—anyone who touched him would die at my hands. I’d revel in watching the life leave their bodies, until darkness swooped in to steal their spirits.
Storming around the box, I hurried up the stairs. Footsteps followed me.
“Where are you going?” It was the only voice that could shock me enough to stop me.
I whirled in the doorway, finding Malakai’s face only inches from mine. “Where am I going?” I gaped.
“You can’t listen to her,” he demanded. He looked at me like I was the ridiculous one.
“Are you seriously saying I should let her have him?” I panted. “She’ll kill him, Malakai!” I wanted to shove him, but I fisted my hands at my sides.
“She won’t.”
“Look at what she did to you.”
“But she didn’t kill even me.” He pivoted to stand in front of me, blocking my way into the foyer. “And I was an outright threat, a symbol of betrayal, while Tolek is only a pawn to her.”
“Torturing him is okay, as long as she doesn’t kill him?”
“He’ll survive it,” Malakai said—and it almost sounded like a reassurance for us both.
He was right. Physically, Tolek would survive it, but the damage it would do to his soul wasn’t worth it.
“I’m going.” I stepped around him.
“Ophelia, stop.” Malakai gripped my arm, and the delicate control I had on myself slipped.
“Let go of me!” I shouted, voice high and tattered, as I ripped out of his grasp and charged toward the stairs to my suite.
I needed to leave.
The walls were pressing in.
How long had she already had him? How much time did I have?
“If you give yourself to her, she’ll kill you both,” Malakai called after me, and I froze.
“I’d never allow that,” I replied without turning. Spirits, it was hard to draw breath.
“You can’t charge in there on your own. Not without a plan.”
I had a plan and it involved slaughtering Kakias and everyone who stood with her. I didn’t know how I’d find them, how many of them there’d be. The odds weren’t good, I’d admit it, but I couldn’t leave him. Not without trying.
I gripped Tol’s dagger against my thigh, clenched my eyes, and focused on breathing.
Once the world was spinning less, I turned back to my friends scattered throughout the foyer waiting for me.
“It’s not what he would want.” Malakai’s voice had lost its edge.
That argument stuck between my ribs, guilt welling around it. Tolek would certainly not want me putting myself in danger to save him. But he’d do it for me.
“What do you propose then?”
Malakai’s jaw opened as he blinked up at me, but he shook off the shock that I’d asked. “Stay here. She won’t kill him. You know she won’t. We’ll get him back eventually.”
Eventually. The word was a knife to my heart, carving out the pieces I was realizing I needed most.
“Malakai is right.” Barrett stepped beside his brother, who grimaced but didn’t protest. “My mother will not kill him unless she gets something out of it. You can’t play into her hands.”
I’d always been on Barrett’s side, but now I wished I hadn’t let him stay. I chewed my lip, taking in every expression turned up to me, from defeated to disgusted, and landing on Cyph. “What do you think?”
He dragged a hand over his face, head falling back, utterly crushed. “It goes against every instinct in my body,” he sighed, “but they’re right. You can’t go. We’ll make a plan and send a party after him, but we need to be smart about this.”
My bones were heavy, holding myself upright becoming harder with each breath. What was left of my strength leaked away at the realization of what we were doing.
Nothing.
We weren’t doing anything to rescue Tol, though he had rescued me in more ways than one.
The dagger was cold in my hand as I pulled it from my thigh. It slipped from my shaking fingers, blade clattering against marble, sliding down the stairs with shattering echoes.
Right there, in front of everyone, I sank to my knees, wrapped my arms around myself, and sobbed.
My temper was still simmering hours later. Unable to settle in my rooms, I wandered the many wide corridors of the palace instead.
He would not want that, they’d decided.
He’d want you safe, they’d insisted.
I hated that they were right. Leaving him to Kakias…it felt wrong. Allowing him to suffer went against every bone-deep instinct. To be her prisoner.
Spirits, the things she could be doing to him. Chains, blades…I shivered, his screams echoing in my ears. I clenched my eyes against the image of his face contorted in pain, the blood dripping down his body. I couldn’t—
“Ophelia!” A gentle hand shook my shoulder.
I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen to my knees, still gripping the railing. Jezebel slipped a hand beneath my shoulder, hoisting me up.
“Are you all right?” she asked, worry creasing her brow.
“I’m fine.” My shaking voice betrayed me, but I turned away, staring out at the dark night sky.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, crossing her arms.
“What?” I hissed.
Jezebel’s eyes swept over me, tucking away details before I could hide them. But I was surprised when she said, “Nothing.”
I looked her over, searching for any conversation to grasp on to. Eyes landing on her crescent and amethyst necklace, the symbol seemed somehow familiar.
“The necklace is from Erista, isn’t it?” It was an exact replica of the tattoo around her arm, coupled with a classic Soulguider gem.
“She sent it to me when we decided to keep the secret. It’s a family heirloom—one her family didn’t care for enough to notice it was gone.” Jezebel brushed a hand over the emblem.
“That’s—wow, that’s commitment, Jez.” Warriors didn’t part with artifacts easily, and Erista had told us how seriously the Soulguiders handled theirs.
She brushed me off, but I caught her blush.
“So this isn’t a new tryst, then?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me how it began.” I looped my arm through hers. We strolled down the moonlit corridor, and I pretended I was okay.