Chapter Thirty-Six
JOON
The demons in the Western Court are whittled down little by little until only a few remain. Bodies of higher demons lay in broken heaps of knobby spines and too-long limbs. Fissures form around the killing wounds of their flesh, like cold ash.
The formless, lesser demons, too stupid to flee, are easily struck down with sword and arrow. Night forged silver cuts through them as if they had no more substance than fog.
A thick, billowing cloud of black gathers to my side, forming slowly, condensing into the shape of another higher demon. It solidifies and lunges, attempting to take me by surprise.
I duck under the swing of the crooked arm and sidestep as deadly talons plunge into the earth where I was standing half a breath before. My grip tightens on the hilt of the dagger as I bring my fist up.
The demon meets my eye and releases an ear-splitting screech as I drive the point of my blade through the center of that blood-red orb. Their cry abruptly cuts off as they slump at my feet. Dead.
I turn to check on Mingi. He fights at my back, cutting down two more demons with a single swing of his sword.
My attention is yanked toward the gate, where a guard points, shouting to his companions. The one next to him lifts her sword.
The demon they eye races toward me, ducking and swerving. I squint.
They are no ordinary demon.
Bear?
Instantly, I know Violet is in danger. They would not have left her—not risk their life to find me otherwise.
The guards converge on Bear, slowly gaining.
I race forward. The four of us meet at once. I drop to one knee as Bear crashes into my chest. Raising my arm, I catch the blade of the sword coming down—ice crackles, coating the metal in a layer, inches thick. I use the added weight to throw the guard off balance and into the other.
“Take care of the real threats!” I shout over the din.
The ice recedes from the first guard’s weapon. The pair exchange puzzled glances. Even though they have no way of understanding the situation, they nod and comply.
“You should be with Violet,” I admonish, hoping against hope that they only wanted to be brave and help.
But as the demon points eastward, a powerful ache takes shape within my chest—the demand of our bargain—issuing a warning.
Instantly, I am up and running for the gate to the Central Court.
Mingi matches my stride. “The threat is under control here,” he says. “Those not needed to hold the shield will join us at the Southern Court.”
“Go without me. I will catch up—there is something I must do first.”
Mingi doesn’t respond. His silence is objection enough, but when we pass the gate, he gives me a look that expresses more than we would have time to speak.
Imugi is at my shoulder, moving with me as easily as if we were still.
“Go with him,” I say. “Keep him safe.”
After a reluctant hesitation, they oblige.
Bear leaps from my hold and bounds ahead, looking back to make sure I follow. Free of their weight, I speed up.
The demon angles away from the Temple Tower, instead changing course toward the Eastern Court. It’s hardly noticeable at first, but the gate is open just wide enough for a man to pass through.
It should be sealed off. It has been since—
I shake off the thought. There is no time to think of that now.
Bear slows as we enter the ruins of my childhood, stalking toward the old throne room.
Their caution tells me all I need to know.
We slip quietly through the main doors. As I close them to keep the sound of fighting from alerting to our presence, a voice I know too well filters down the hall.
Anger and confusion war for dominance among the disbelief, turning my blood into rivers of ice.
Moving silently, I hurry closer to the light spilling through the open door.
“I am sorry, but you will have to die sooner than expected.” The words are low but clear, spoken with a cold detachment. It is nothing like the man I have called family since he came to the palace. Yet the voice is undeniably his.
Without seeing inside, I know he means Violet.
Entering the throne room only confirms what I suspected.
The reasons for his betrayal make no difference. If he has harmed Violet at all, I will kill him.
Violet is on her hands and knees, gasping for breath through a violent episode.
“I will not allow you to ruin everything I have worked to accomplish!” Uncle’s shout rings throughout the massive room.
It is what he’d said to me not that long ago. But now I can hear the true meaning behind it.
Violet struggles to lift her head.
Blood roars in my ears, nearly drowning out her name as it rips from my throat. My feet carry me to her of their own volition.
My uncle swivels his head and looks at me through two solid pools of pitch. Black veins crawl from his eyes, across his face like fine roots of a plant, extending over every inch of exposed skin.
Demon cursed.
Every fae learns how to identify the signs from the moment we are born so that we will know it upon sight. A warning to those who would risk bonding with a demon without the aid of the Master of Ceremony in an attempt to stand as a challenger to the throne and usurp the reigning monarch.
The higher demons searching for the opportunity to become a greater demon through such a connection are rarely a match to those who seek a life the fates did not ordain.
The mismatched power taints life force, poisoning both fae and demon from the inside out.
For some, it takes weeks or months. Others can take years or decades.
Uncle’s mouth stretches into an unnaturally wide grin, causing his lips to split at the edges and ooze thick rivulets of dark blood. He rushes forward.
As we speed toward collision, I reach for my night forged silver dagger and grip nothing but air. I don’t remember where or when I dropped it.
With a curse, I gather my dwindling power—so much of it already used up—and wait for the right moment.
The king stretches his arms out, hands flexing into claws. Dark talons burst from his nails. Their tips glint with his own blood as they angle for my throat.
A heartbeat before we meet, I send the full force of my magic into him.
A demon in the form of a dragon darts up, positioning themselves between him and my power.
The magic crystallizes on impact, driving the demon into my uncle’s chest. They crash to the floor, locked together by the ice.
I don’t spare a second for the loss of the only family member I had left.
Violet is all that matters.
I fall to my knees at her side and gather her into my arms. She curls into me.
“Y-you’re… real…” she says through raw, agony-riddled gasps.
Sending my power to soothe her comes without thought. I press my palm over her heart and let rivers of it glide through her veins and tendrils to wrap around her heart.
Violet’s brow relaxes.
I wait, watching closely to see if it worked.
She takes a breath, deeper, less pained than before. I press my palm to her chest once more.
I will use every scrap of power to heal her if necessary.
I cannot lose her.
Violet’s fingers wrap around my wrist, moving my hand away. She shakes her head. Her lips form the word “no,” but her voice is silent. The struggle to collect the energy is apparent on her face.
She swallows and licks her lips. “The last shard. It’s—”
“We can get it together—as soon as I heal you.”
Again, she shakes her head.
The look in her eyes fills my insides with dread, pooling in my gut with the oozing, sickening weight of what she will say.
“My heart.”
“Let me heal it—” I cut off at yet another shake of her head.
“My episodes.” Violet taps her chest. “You must take it out.”
I do not understand—I do not want to, but she forces it upon me. Bile burns my throat. “I can’t—you know I can’t. It will kill you.”
Pushing her hand out of the way, I replace it with my own and prepare to heal her again.
“Won’t work… this time.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap.
Violet smiles sadly. She sees through my anger for what it can’t hide. “You must take it, or it will die.”
My head pounds. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Break the curse, Joon.” She erupts into a coughing fit, and when it passes, there is blood staining the corner of her mouth.
“You must siphon,” Imugi hisses. I hadn’t noticed when they arrived.
Bear leaps and swats at them, but Imugi dodges out of the way.
“No!” I grind out through clenched teeth.
Violet’s fingertips graze my cheek, wiping away the moisture of a tear. That ghostly touch commands my full attention to return to her. She is unnaturally cold. “There’s time… heal me… after you break the curse.”
It is a lie. We both know it.
As much as I want to yell that she is wrong—that it is not as she claims, there is no ignoring how it is the only thing that makes sense.
For some time, I have suspected that I was not healing her, only easing the pain of the episode. Though reduced, the damage done was still there, below the surface.
It explains why she has become weaker so much faster than she should have, why shadows have taken a permanent place under her eyes—it’s why her face has become gaunt over the short time she’s been here…
With every siphoning, the shard shifted.
The first time she came to me—the first time I felt her soft lips moving over mine—I took the power of the frost bloom from her and unknowingly called to the remaining shards scattered throughout Arum. I called to the one buried deep within her heart, slowly pulling it toward me.
Loathing over what I did to her this morning crashes into me. I was so careless. So caught up in possessing her, rather than taking only what was necessary. Over and over, I dragged Violet closer to the brink of death while making her believe she was safe beneath me.
I send power into her, willing her body to fully heal so that perhaps it will force out the shard, and she can finally be whole again.
Violet’s arms fall to her sides, her back arching from the current of magic coursing through her.