Chapter 19 The Only Way to Rebuild Is to Destroy
The Only Way to Rebuild Is to Destroy
Desdemona
I
enter the dusty old room, where it’s hard to see past the things that happened once and never will again. Where we drank, danced, and confessed things I’d take back now—if he remembered them, anyway.
When Lucian sees me, he stands taller, silently walking past me. “Don’t look into anyone’s eyes for too long,” he says, getting straight to it. “Some Lyrians can see past mental illusions. I left clothes on the table; put them on and meet me outside.”
I remember fumbling with the corset laces on the dress he brought me—struggling before finally admitting I needed his help. I went to him. He tied them. He told me I was breathtaking. I remember. He doesn’t. End of story.
Lucian exits the room, and I walk to the table. A long yellow dress sparkles on the surface. Beneath the gown lies a pair of brown leather pants, equipped with a sheath and three daggers.
As if he knows me.
The dress is stunning, with intricate cutouts, a mesh-lined design of wings on the torso, and a glittering skirt.
I put on the pants first, fumbling with the corset lacings when I reach the dress—like last time.
I can’t imagine Lucian doesn’t know how difficult these are to tie, so when I open the door holding up the bodice, I give him a long look.
Lucian returns an equally annoyed look. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he walks toward me.
But is he avoiding my eyes because he can’t meet them—or because he’s nervous?
He stops in front of me, voice curt. “Turn.”
“Walk behind me.” I don’t know why I’m angry—maybe because of the difference between this time and the last. Or maybe I just don’t like being ordered around.
“I’m a prince. I don’t walk behind anyone.”
“A prince who broke my spine, neck, and stabbed me in the heart,” I mutter. “Walk behind me.”
Maybe I should be nicer to him, considering he can kill me and all. But I don’t know how.
To my surprise, he does walk behind me, saying nothing as he ties the stupid laces. I hold my breath, afraid it will shake.
When he’s finished, he reaches for a hat on the table and pulls it low over his head. As the brim casts a shadow across his face, his hair begins to shift—dark strands fading into blond. Then, without warning, the hat vanishes, leaving him with a head of shiny light hair.
That’s when I notice the rest of him. He’s no longer dressed in the Ilyrian blues he usually wears. He’s clad in purple, the fabric trimmed in silver thread that glints faintly under the light. I stare longer than I mean to. The lighter color of his hair brings out the darker hue of his irises.
Not the point.
As I look away, Lucian smirks.
Hastily, I say, “I’m not killing anyone.”
Lucian tugs his glasses on, and his eyes darken from blue to brown as he does—the glasses vanish afterward. A glamour.
“I should hope not.”
“It’s not a joke.” My jaw tightens.
“It’s your Soul Ruby we’re after,” Lucian says. He believes it’s on Ilyria and claims to know where to find it. This is his show of good faith to get me on board with Azaire. It’s his version of a peace offering, but I don’t trust it.
It’s still a better option than going to Elemental Magic and using my fire magic.
I press my feet into the floor, forcing myself taller. “I’m not killing anyone.”
“I don’t see the need to declare it.” Lucian pulls his arms through a coat.
“Promise me I won’t need to.”
He meets my glamoured gaze, his eyes narrowing. I hold his gaze, making sure he knows I’m serious.
Slowly, his eyelids lower slightly. He looks at me like I’m no longer a threat. I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. He should be afraid of me—it’ll keep him in line. But if he’s afraid and finds out he can kill me, then there’s a problem.
The crease between his brows fades as he says, “I promise.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Lucian nods once, his lips pinched together. I wonder if this goes against everything he thinks he knows about the Arcanes.
Then Lucian turns, his hand settling on a mirror. Our reflection melts away as the portal opens. He steps through into Ilyria, and I follow.
The cold air hits me.
We step out of a small room, walking side by side through the castle halls. The wall to my right is made entirely of glass, overlooking the Great Sea—the most powerful body of water in the universe—now coated in a layer of ice.
“It’s fair to see you with two eyes,” Lucian says, glancing over his shoulder at me. Earlier today, Fleur healed me because my injuries were ‘disgusting.’
“You’re much more pleasant to look at now,” he finishes.
“Careful, Aibek,” I say. “You’re the blond.”
Not that I mind.
“Then you enjoyed looking at me before, Althenia?” he says lightly, teasingly, just like he used to. I almost freeze.
“Hardly,” I say, keeping my tone flat and my eyes ahead of me.
It’s silent after that. It’s probably better if we don’t talk.
Guards and servants pass us while Lucian nods in their direction, but he doesn’t meet their eyes. Lucian takes another turn, and the number of guards increases tenfold. This hallway is a dead end.
He glances at a door at the end, cursing under his breath. Two guards are stationed in front of it.
“That’s where we’re going?” I whisper.
Clenching his jaw, he nods.
“What can we do?” I continue forward.
“Any move I make would rouse every guard present,” he says.
My magic wouldn’t. If I do it right, they won’t make a sound.
I glance at Lucian, eyebrows furrowed. He promised I wouldn’t have to kill anyone.
But maybe magic doesn’t have to mean death. I focus on the two guards ahead as we approach. There must be a way to subdue them without murder.
Their blood is easy to reach—my magic slithers right into their veins. But I don’t know what to do with it, other than kill. Mial didn’t teach me anything else.
Power pulses at my temples, throbbing until my head feels like it might split. It takes effort not to grip their hearts and squeeze tight. I focus only on their blood, swirling within me. My hand locks up at my side, just as their weapons fall to the ground. They each look down, eyes wide.
I walk faster, tipping my head back as I move toward their legs. My body stiffens with theirs. I nearly stop mid-step, my legs hardening like cement. My stride slows.
Lucian turns to me, narrowing his eyes. My arms are pinned to my sides, heavy as boulders, as my spine tightens all the way to my neck. This time, it’s hard not to freeze.
“Althenia,” Lucian hisses, grabbing my bicep.
The blood feels smooth and firm, like glass. As I step forward, it slices up my shins, through muscle and bone. I suck in a broken breath.
Lucian’s voice is low. “What did you do?”
After a few deep breaths, I say, voice barely audible, “They won’t stop us.”
He studies me. I look ahead, pushing through the pins and needles in my legs.
When we approach the door, the guards do nothing. They can’t. Their blood is in my hands.
I step into the room after Lucian, my mind lingering with the guards.
I stop on the other side of the door, leaning against it.
My chest tightens, but I refrain from raising a hand to it.
It won’t help me breathe any better. When Lucian is done, this will pass—so it’s good that he seems to know exactly where he’s going, what he’s getting, and what he’s doing.
I watch him move through the dark room. There’s a glass desk in the middle and shelves toward the back, stacked high with books. No windows.
Lucian lowers to his knee, pulling at the bottom drawer of the desk.
It takes him a few tries before the drawer finally tugs open.
He releases a deep breath, shoulders deflating.
As I step toward him, the blood of the guards tightens.
A cry escapes me, my spine stitching together like it’s made of metal.
Lucian’s head snaps in my direction. He opens his mouth but says nothing, glancing down like he’s not sure why he looked in the first place.
“I’m okay,” I say, voice tight. “Thanks for asking.”
The drawer is full of small silver trinkets, all like the wolf in my sock. I reach for it, my finger tracing its curves, and the tension in my body eases.
Lucian reaches into the drawer and picks up a piece of silver. He turns the trinket slowly between his fingers, his breath heavy. Then, he pulls a box out of his coat, saying, “Grab as many as you can,” while he shoves the trinkets inside.
Is this supposed to help with the Soul Ruby?
I reach into the drawer and pick up one of the silver carvings, curious.
My hand pulses, like my heart is in my fingertips. Then, suddenly, my fingers go numb. My hand is frozen solid. I drop the stupid silver with a sharp hiss.
Lucian glances up sharply, asking, “Are you all right?”
For a moment, I stare, gathering my thoughts. Surprised he cared enough to ask. But I ignore his caring—it was accidental.
“Fine.” But as I reach back into the drawer, the moment my fingers settle on the silver, they burn. Not from heat—but the biting cold. “I can’t touch them.”
Lucian’s eyes flick up and down as a smirk settles over his lips. “Try again,” he says.
“No. It hurts.”
Lucian’s smirk turns to a smile. “Very well, then.”
I think he’s about to say something, and I dangle in the silence, waiting for words.
They never come as he twists away, reaching back into the drawer.
I watch, staying as still as I can—but my spine doesn’t feel so rigid anymore, and the only pain is coming from my hand where I held the silver. Not the blood of the guards.
My stomach curls as I look at the door, waiting for someone to rush in—maybe one of the guards.
Something bad is going to happen.
I glance back to Lucian. “Are you almost finished?” I ask.
He stands quickly, the box tucked beneath his coat. “Let’s go.”
I nod and move toward the door.
Then the ground shifts beneath my feet. I reach for the wall to steady myself as the glass desk rumbles.