Chapter 36 #2
“Try finding your entire village obliterated by mages and then forced to pretend it never happened. Be glad I’m not keen on killing you,” Ether snaps, then after a villainous pause, she adds, “just yet.” I can hear the smile in her words.
Ronan snorts.
It’s small, but their banter relaxes me. It almost feels like things have returned to normal.
“Since you’re here, you might as well hear this too,” she sighs.
Ronan’s boots scuff along the dirt as he sits next to me.
Ether clears her throat, and my body tenses before she begins, sensing that whatever she’s about to say won’t be good.
“While you two were searching for the tallup, I was called to meet with the king.”
I bristle. I’d known about this, and yet, I never had the opportunity to ask her. Too much has happened between then and now. Still, how could I have forgotten?
“He knows I’m an elf,” she says, voice flat. “He told me to do whatever it takes to ensure your failure at the Feast. If I didn’t, he said he’d kill my people. And, well, he already followed through on his threat.”
Her hand slips out of mine. I let it. My shock overrides the sting of cold between us.
My father wants me to fail? Really?
I shake my head, trying to make sense of that. Azriel was always encouraging in the times we met since the council gathered to discuss my brother’s death.
Why has he been so encouraging? Throughout my life, we’d rarely spoken, which would indicate his desire to want nothing to do with me. It does make more sense for him to want to see me fail, and yet, I find myself resisting Ether’s confession.
He’s my flesh and blood. Could he really want me to die under a dragon’s might? Before an audience of our strongest allies?
If not for the sorrow that might result from my death, wouldn’t my failure as his heir embarrass him?
“So you’ve been…trying to sabotage me?” It is the only question I manage to squeak out, though the second I speak, it sounds wrong. Like a wounded animal begging to be told another sweet lie even though it knows its final destination fast approaches.
“Yes. No. I’m sorry. Everything I hold dear…
He used it to threaten me. But now that he’s followed through on his threat, I have nothing to lose.
So,” she pauses, her hand gripping my shoulder, “I hope you’ll forgive me.
I never meant to hurt you. Much of what has happened was out of my control. The blessing. Your blindness.”
“The klopse?” My left arm thrums in response to the name of the creature that ravaged it.
The elf is silent for a moment.
“I knew it!” Ronan shouts.
Ether hisses.
“You brought the klopse right to him. A starved, blighted klopse. And what, you expected it to let him off with a hug?” Ronan roars.
Her hand squeezes my shoulder again, but this time it’s unsteady. “You have every right to be mad. But please, Ramiel, direct it at the man who wishes to see you fail. Doesn’t this make you want to work harder to prove him wrong?”
Of course it does , I almost blurt. But there’s too much she’s hidden from me, and so much I have to piece together now that I know Azriel had her under his control all along.
How much of our conversations have been genuine?
How much of them have been part of the king’s ploy?
How often did she lie to me and hide the consequences of her curse?
My thoughts whir. All the scenarios between us, the moments we shared, the trust we’ve built… Did none of it matter?
Had any of it been real?
“You’re right,” I say, removing her hand from my shoulder.
But the second her touch leaves me, a coldness cleaves between us, as if I’ve severed the bond somehow.
I know this can’t be true, but my body sags in response.
“Don’t worry. Ronan has been teaching me how to wield a sword properly during our breaks. I’m getting better.”
“The prince is optimistic,” Ronan chirps.
The corners of my lips lift at his humor, but a layer of frost forms around my heart.
“Am I worthy of your forgiveness?” Ether’s voice is so small, I have to repeat her words internally to absorb them.
Is she worthy ?
If guilt were a physical thing, its fingers would be tightening around me now.
All my life, I’ve asked myself the same question.
Would I ever live up to my brother’s potential?
Would my mother be proud of me if she knew the life I was destined for?
Would I ever feel like enough for whoever took me as her bridegroom?
Am I worthy?
The silence stretches between us, and I find myself wanting to reach for her, to relieve the itch starting in my forearm.
I’m not one to hold grudges. The king is my own father, so I know the weight of his threats.
Ether had no choice. If he knew she was an elf, he would have held that fact over her head, and instead of threatening her with her life, he would’ve tortured her with the lives of the ones she loves. She never intended to hurt me.
At least, that is what I choose to believe.
I pat the ground, searching for her hand. Why had I brushed her off?
“It isn’t about worthiness,” I say. My hand finds hers. She’s trembling. With a sharp breath, I cover her hand with my other one, steadying her in my palms. “It’s about my willingness to forgive what has been done. And that is something I readily give.”
Her tremors stop, my promise getting through to her. Telling me the truth was a risk she’d been horrified to take, but despite everything, she did.
“Thank y?—”
“Please,” I whisper. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I have nothing to be thanked for.”
Before she can respond, I’m reaching into the pocket of my trousers and retrieving the silver ring that symbolizes my identity, status, and worth. The smooth stone embedded into it warms against my palm.
I lift her hand and place the ring at its center.
“I want to give this to you as a token of my faith and trust. When I defeat the dragon and claim the throne, it will be yours.”
Her fingers curl around the ring.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “The stone, is it…?”
I suck in a breath. “My mother’s ashes. It’s all I have left of her.”
Ether’s fingers brush beneath mine, desperate to return the ring to me. “I can’t take this, Ramiel, I?—”
“You understand loss more than anyone I’ve ever met,” I say, holding the ring solidly against her palm. “You know what it’s like to hold on to something that feels like it’s all you have left. That’s why I’m giving this to you.”
“Still Ramiel, I… I can’t?—”
“You can ,” I interrupt. “Keep it safe for me. For her. For your people. For both of us. And when this is all over, we’ll decide together what it should mean.”
My ears burn at the promise in my words, and I can only hope she feels the same. The mark on my arm must be glowing now; the scorching heat rippling along the curves of its design is sudden, uninvited, painful.
Ether doesn’t seem to be affected in the same way, at least not on the surface.
“Oh, and these too,” I say quickly. My hand reaches into my other pocket for the small stone spikes I’d found on the Sanvira before. “Are these yours?”
“Yes!” she says. Her voice carries a much happier cadence with the single word. My insides warm at the sound of it. “Where did you…?”
Clearing her throat as though embarrassed, she withdraws her hand.
“Thank you. I mean it. I… I was wrong before. Thank you for putting your faith in me.”
“Of course,” I say with a smile. “Now let’s do this.”
Ronan leads me by the elbow. We go into the forest, where the air is crisper and the sweet-smelling decay of fallen leaves remains untouched. It is the area where I’ve been hacking the blade of my longsword against a stump for the past week.
When he releases me, I reach forward and touch the wood. Its surface is gnarled and rough, chipped in places where my sword has cut through.
“You’ve been fighting a tree ?” Ether giggles.
I laugh too. Because yes, it is ridiculous that my sparring partner is the lower half of a fallen oak. Still, Ronan had insisted it would be too dangerous for me to fight against a living thing yet.
“Fair enough. No sword today, though,” Ether says with a click of her tongue. “Let’s test your reflexes instead.”
I move from the stump and raise my hands, but her eluviam has disappeared. I stand straight, turning my head left and right to find her, but I’m too slow.
The force her body hits me with is enough to take me down. She rams into my side with her elbow, knocking the air from my chest and sending me to the damp, leafy ground. I suck in and blow out icy breaths as she pins me with her small hands.
She grumbles in pain too. Something I’ve learned to be a benefit of our bond…and a disadvantage.
I become torturously aware of her knee brushing against my inner thigh, but just as my skin coats with sweat, she grips my shoulder.
“Not fast enough,” she says coldly.
I search around again, but her eluviam is nowhere to be seen. This time, though, I lunge forward and duck, hoping to anticipate her strike. Of course, I don’t.
My shin splinters under the sweeping kick, and I collapse to the forest floor once more.
I wait for her to tell me I’m hopeless.
Instead, she picks me up again.
“Do you not feel this pain too?” I wince. She hasn’t made a single sound, nor does she seem short of breath.
“I do,” she confirms. “But it is nothing. I’ve experienced far worse pain than this. And I wouldn’t hurt you any more than I can handle.”
This isn’t exactly reassuring, but I nod anyway.
“What have you been teaching him? How to knit?” she barks at Ronan. “Why can’t he defend against me better?”
He chuckles, but the sound of it is anything but humorous. “Isn’t that your job?”
She growls, but doesn’t refute him.
Her hand tightens on my arm.
“We have a connection,” she says under her breath. Her words rush against my ear, her lips brushing the side of my face. “Use it.”
I know she speaks of our bond, though I can’t help but also feel the reference to the elf blood whooshing in my veins and all the questions I don’t have time to ask, let alone find answers to.
I nod as she moves away, the heat from her closeness swirling down to my eluviam and expanding to my arms. The magic in my left arm awakens, and the memory of my dream, of witnessing Xavelor’s death, seems to come alive. A numbing pulse throbs down to my left hand, and a heat spreads in my right.
I lift my hands and angle my body to face her.
For a moment, I visualize the challenge in her eyes, the excitement bouncing between us. The memory of her—softness wrapped in steel—before I lost my sight.
It is enough.
When she surges forward, I dodge her attack and flip around, catching her wrist.
“Aha!” I say, panting.
As soon as I speak, her knee slams into my gut, hurtling me into the earth. Dirt fills my mouth. I gag.
“Imagine that,” she crows, showing no indication that she feels the same pain I do, “but with a dragon on the other end instead.”
She helps me to my feet once more.
“Again. And this time, save the celebration until you know for sure you’ve disarmed me.”
I wipe the sweat from my neck.
Before I can ready myself, she sends me sprawling to the ground again.