Chapter 49
Elva
Hal is staring at me like he’s never seen me before. His eyes are wide, jaw slack, knuckles white, voice a raw, scratching stutter as he says, ‘W-what? Why? I mean, how?’
I drag in a breath. ‘The magic of my ancestors was returned to me.’
Hal gives several small, jerking shakes of his head. ‘That’s impossible.’
As if in retort, one of my shadows darts forward and curls itself round his ankle. He gasps, shakes it off and backs up until he collides with his bedpost.
I resist the urge to reach for him and force my tone to remain steady. ‘That night you found me unconscious in Blaze’s chambers … I know your memory is hazy because of the sedative, but do you remember the darkness? Do you remember … my eyes?’
Hal’s chest rises and falls rapidly, and the orbs of light hovering above his head blink frantically in warning. His brows knit together in concentration as he sifts through his recollections, all of them clouded by whatever substance Fox had administered.
Then something shifts and his mouth falls open. ‘Your eyes,’ he says slowly. ‘I had a dream that they glowed in the dark. At least, I thought it was a dream.’
I glance down at the floor as I let a strange but familiar tingling take root, similar to the hot prickling of tears. When I look up again, Hal blanches, and I know that my eyes must be glowing as bright and luminous as amber stone.
Then I squeeze them shut, and the feeling fades away.
Hal’s horror is almost palpable. For one terrifying moment I wonder if Ingra was right.
A beam of light to the chest, a letter opener to the throat – that’s all it would take for him to dispose of me.
My shadows would try to defend me, but I couldn’t fight back.
And what’s more, would I even try to? Would I let him hurt me just so I wouldn’t have to hurt him?
As twisted as it sounds, I don’t know the answer.
Hal takes a long, shuddering breath, then says, ‘Explain.’
I swallow hard. ‘When I woke up, your half-brother –’
But Hal cuts me off, his voice burning with rage. ‘Fox is a liar. A murderer. Whatever he told you –’
I interrupt him back. ‘He said it was my body’s response to the power … awakening. Decades’ worth of raw magic entering my system.’
‘But how can this be?’
I sigh. ‘I don’t know. He only told me what happened, not why. It makes no sense to me either.’
Hal looks as if he’s vibrating. I decide not to mention the Death Mage in the dungeons just yet, for fear of giving him some kind of heart attack.
‘Who. Else. Knows?’
‘Blaze,’ I say.
He makes an impatient sound. ‘Of course she does.’
‘Ingra.’
‘Brilliant. That’s just brilliant. Anyone else?’
I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. ‘Your grandfather.’
Hal sways on his feet. ‘What?’
More shadows begin to curl from my fingertips. ‘He knows. He knows about me, about us, about everything.’
Hal runs a hand through his hair. His previously pristine appearance is no longer at odds with his slightly crazed expression. ‘You’re … you’re not safe here,’ he mutters.
‘He’s not going to hurt me.’
‘Elva,’ Hal grits out, ‘don’t you understand what my grandfather is capable of? What he’d do to you if he –’
‘If he was going to do anything, he’d have done it by now. Anyway, it’s not my life that concerns him. It’s yours.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He spoke of … of your health.’
Despite the floating orbs of light, Hal’s face darkens.
There’s a long pause, during which his hands begin to tremble.
Cursing, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a vial of opium.
He pulls out the stopper, turns away and drains the clear liquid before tossing the tiny glass cylinder on to his desk.
I flinch as it lands, clinking sharply against the others.
‘Tell me what’s wrong with you,’ I plead.
‘I’m just under a lot of pressure, that’s all.’
‘Hal –’
‘No,’ he snaps, his voice almost unrecognizable. ‘Not this again. I told you already, it’s nothing.’
‘Except it’s not.’
I move closer instinctively, my heart splintering as he tenses. With a deep breath, I banish my shadows and lay a hand on his arm.
Hal swallows, but doesn’t shake me off. ‘Maybe it’s for the better,’ he murmurs.
‘What is?’
But he only clears his throat and takes a step back from me. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter what my grandfather said. You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.’
‘I’m not leaving,’ I insist.
‘You have to.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Elva, it’s too dangerous.’
‘For me or for you?’ I ask quietly.
A longsword could not cut through the silence that follows.
The shock has drained from Hal’s eyes. His mouth is set in a grim, determined line.
‘Fine,’ I say, my voice cracking. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that you haven’t tried to kill me yourself.’
The expression that flits across his face is one of pure agony. ‘How can you say that?’
‘Because I’m a Mage, Hal.’
He looks as though he’s about to reach for me, but his arm swings back to his side, dangling loosely. My chest aches.
‘I knew that telling you would change everything,’ I say thickly. ‘So end it. Banish me, like you did your brother. But I won’t abandon the serfs. I won’t let Ingra die here.’
‘She threatened the crown!’ Hal half yells. ‘I have to make an example out of her.’
‘Spoken like a true Castellion.’
Hurt – real, raw hurt – dulls the dark spark of rage kindling in his eyes. A muscle flickers in his jaw. ‘If I were to spare your friend, it would be considered a sign of weakness,’ he says roughly. ‘My position is tenuous enough as it is. I could lose everything.’
‘But what of Ingra?’ I demand. ‘What of my people? Everything they have lost? Everything that was taken from them? You might not have the power to erase all the terrible things your grandfather did, but you can be better than him. You could make a difference, Hal. Not in a year, or two, or ten. Now.’
His face twists with pain and indecision, his fingers flexing then curling into fists.
And for a brief moment I recall the boy I first met – the one who begged his brother for a salve to soothe the lash marks on my back, who found a way to give me a golden rose every single day, who introduced himself shyly, as if I had no idea who he was.
Who looked at me as though I was his sweet deliverance. His shining salvation.
‘Please,’ I whisper.
Hal reaches out, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. His voice is soft. Tenderly resigned, like gently closing the door to a place you once called home.
‘I love you, Elva. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I will love you until my last breath.’
I catch his wrist and feel his pulse race in response.
‘My heart is, and always will be, yours. Whether you’re a serf, or a spy, or a Mage. Whether you’re at my side or lost to me forever.’
His eyes are sombre. I can read the guilt in them, the longing, the finality.
‘But my hands are tied,’ he says. ‘I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I … I’m sorry.’
And with that, my Hal is gone. In his place stands an emperor, Heir to House Castellion, destined to marry a golden-haired princess and uphold the blood-stained legacy of his grandfather.
I was a fool for ever daring to hope that he could right the wrongs of the past, that we might have some kind of future together. He was never mine to lose.
I feel something crack deep inside.
A stray shadow emerges from my fingertip and glides gracefully into the air before twining round the golden orbs floating overhead. One by one, they are snuffed out.
I look at Hal and watch as a tear slides slowly down his cheek.
We were always doomed, right from the very beginning. And now, it seems, we’ve reached the end. He is my greatest love, and my worst regret.
He is a secret I have kept, and will keep, for the rest of my life.