Chapter 65
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
LYRA
Istare in horror at the bloodied mess before me, grief and pain chewing at my barely-healed heart.
“Sterling,” I whisper. “Azalea.”
All it takes is one heartbeat for a lifetime of memories to ravage me, punching my ribs and sawing at my breastbone with its moments of laughter and shared hugs and warm meals taken together.
Yet I have no time to sit with my feelings of anguish or nurse my shredded heart.
Tynan has already strode to the center of the room, delivering his grand speech to introduce the next stage of the game.
“That was fun, but I must admit it didn’t hold quite the theatrics I had hoped for.
” He scans each of our faces behind the barriers, his face pinched with consideration.
“I think for this next round of the game, we need to up the stakes. Make things…” He trails off, chewing on his next words.
“Less boring. None of your morals are as interesting to me as Gray Nightenjoy’s.
Therefore, the game must be remedied to preserve the thrill.
” He turns, the movement unnervingly precise. “Telamon, lift the barriers.”
The barriers flicker then disappear, taking the incandescent light with them.
I immediately find Draven, who stands at the very end of his chain’s length with his hands balled into white-knuckled fists.
His chest heaves in breaths while his taut lips and narrowed eyes are cold to look at. He glares at Tynan, remaining silent.
Rhea is similarly positioned, yet there is something more questioning in her gaze. Less pointed with direct hatred and instead mixed with something more like confusion, hurt, and anger.
Tynan spares neither of them his attention.
“Allow me to introduce round two of the games. While simple in nature, I suspect it’ll lead to some rather interesting decisions.
See, in approximately two minutes, those stone doors are going to open once more, and this time, an entire band of wielders will enter.
Twist? They are all rebels facing a death sentence for their participation in the Restorationist attacks.
Yet I’ve struck a deal with them: should any of them successfully kill one of you, their punishment will be lifted, and they will walk free to their families.
” Tynan scans our faces, grinning. “Suffice it to say they are very motivated.”
“And what is our participation in this?” I ask, my chilly voice not wavering. “You did say it was a game, after all. Not a slaughter.”
Tynan’s smile widens as he looks at me with sharpened interest. It makes my skin crawl and prick with alarm simultaneously. “That is correct. It is indeed a game.”
“Yet here we are chained to a wall, blocked from using our magic.” I hold up the manacles for emphasis. “That doesn’t seem very game-like to me.”
“Have no fear. You will not be in chains when the rebels funnel in. You will, however, keep the manzat cuffs around your wrists, though the chain restricting your movements will be cut. There will be no use of magic, from you or the rebels. Only weaponry.”
“And how are we to defend ourselves?” Draven’s gruff voice has dropped an octave, as if he has put something together I haven’t yet.
Tynan delights in the question. “You and you alone will be provided a sword.”
His eyes shudder at the answer, as if his nightmare has just been confirmed. “And who’s to say I won’t take that sword and stab it straight through your throat?”
“You won’t. I hold the lives of the two people you care most for in the palms of my hand. Take a blade to me, and they will have three blades taken to them.”
“This is a death sentence,” Rhea hisses.
Tynan glides to face her. “You have more to work with than the Binder and yet you still complain? I know you have hidden daggers sheathed at your ankles and one strapped to your thigh. The other girl has nothing. No weapons. And I will not be providing her with any, either. Be grateful for what you have, girl. Show gratitude for the mercy I am showing you.”
Slowly, the pieces start fusing together, and I begin to understand the true ramifications of this game.
“Let us see what my son does when he must defend the lives of the two people he holds such damning affections for with only one sword. What he does when both halves of his putrid heart are swarmed by criminals fighting to regain their own lives. What choices he will make when the cost of his actions will be the life of one over the other.” Tynan strides straight up to Draven, clasping his hands together behind his back.
His eyes are glued to the color filling his son’s, so different yet so similar.
“Which person will he choose to protect with that unwavering ferociousness of his? What will he do if he chooses wrong?” Tynan pauses, his mouth gently curving at one corner. “Sound familiar?”
“Stop it. Stop.” Rhea is shaking uncontrollably now. “You promised. Gave me your word that if I helped you, you would release your hold over Draven and allow him to finally be free of this.”
I watch as Draven’s face falls, his eyes looking past his father and onto his sister. “Rhea,” he breathes. “What did you do?”
Rhea bites down on her bottom lip. Even from the distance between us, it looks painful. Looks hard enough to draw blood. “I wanted to help you,” she says, voice cracking. “It seemed so minor—just some old information in some old tome in the warded area of Bathara’s library.”
Draven’s voice is strained. “The one I helped you gain access to?”
Rhea nods. “If I found the tome and gave Tynan the information held within, he swore to relinquish the promise you made to him when we were children. You were supposed to be free, Draven. After all you have done to protect me—all you gave up for me—I was supposed to finally repay you by giving you your life back.”
Draven’s eyes soften before turning downward. “You have no debt to repay, Rhea. Besides, I told you to never make a deal with the devil—no matter how enticing it looks.”
Rhea glares at Tynan. “You swore to me. And though you are many things, you have never been one to go back on your word.”
Tynan turns just enough to look over his shoulder. “I swore to you that if you upheld your end of the bargain, I would no longer use you to force Draven to submit to my will. This decision, you see, is entirely his to make. What I want has nothing to do with the direction of his choices.”
Anger flares hotly in Rhea’s eyes. “You snake. You vile, repulsive—”
Draven lifts his hand to silence her. “So that’s why you allowed her to be Conscripted. To be so close to me while knowing you would lose your advantage over me in doing so. It was so she could look for the information you needed, placing her somewhere not even you could freely access.”
Tynan’s polished, close-lipped smile is his only response.
“What’s in the book, Tynan?”
No answer.
Draven steps forward, the chain around his waist clanging loudly as it’s stretched taut. “Tell me.”
Tynan only continues to smile at his son. “All in due time, boy.”
Rhea drops to her knees, seeming on the verge of tears. “Draven…I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you for once. I—I believed him.”
“What did you give him, Rhea? What was in the book?”
She shakes her head, unfurling her fingers and staring absently into her palms. “I don’t know. It was in a language I didn’t understand. I only copied the text and sent it to Tynan with my Ever-Know Quill.” She looks like she might say more, but then she just…doesn’t.
Tynan chuckles. “You know, it’s not the only important book in my possession these days.
And I have found myself doing a lot of interesting reading about the god of the stars as a result.
” There is a mocking quality to his smile, and while I haven’t the slightest clue what he is referencing, whatever it is, it makes Draven’s eyes widen with anger and Rhea snap her glassy eyes up at Tynan, lips parting with disbelief.
“You have his book?” Draven seethes, voice sharp enough to cut skin.
Whose book? I think, glancing between them all as some unspoken revelation seems to hit Rhea and Draven simultaneously.
“Let’s not rush the grand finale, shall we? All great endings are the sum of their journey, and I still have so much to share with you all.”
“Hopefully at a quicker pace,” King Alastair chastises, still standing near Gray, who remains on his knees surrounded by the blood and bodies of his parents. His hands are folded in his lap, his body slumped forward in complete resignation. Complete defeat.
Gray…
“Truly, this whole spectacle is taking up so much time, I’m beginning to tire of it.” King Alastair turns back to the balcony. “What do you think, Erasmus?”
King Erasmus, who remains resting comfortably on the silver, glittering throne, merely shrugs. “I find it perfectly acceptable entertainment. One must be patient, not rushing their gratification.”
King Alastair grunts. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that statement a pointed one.”
“Should it have been?”
King Alastair lets out a low growl, directing his festering irritation onto Tynan. “Let’s get on with this next round.” His eyes slide to me. “I am eager to watch my pet perform.”
“Yes,” Tynan agrees. “Let us do just that.” He finally pulls his loaded gaze from Draven, striding toward me. He reaches out his hand, prompting me to jerk back.
“Don’t touch me,” I seethe through gritted teeth. I hate how my eyes flick to King Alastair, the face of my scars visible.
Tynan observes me for a quiet heartbeat before dropping his voice to where only I can hear him.
“While human nature and its accompanying choices fascinate me to an endless degree, my tastes are not the same as Alastair’s.
” A pause. “You do not have to fear such treatment from me.” His words are surprisingly…
soft. A twisted authenticity lacing through his claim, as though showing me a shred of kindness.