Chapter 30 A Piece Of You That Was Never Mine
A Piece Of You That
Was Never Mine
Desdemona
I
’m in Not Lucian’s arms. The school crumbles behind us, but it’s hardly a dent in the structure. I don’t know why my hallucination is so modest. Bring the whole school down, why don’t you?
I shift, trying to tighten my hands around Lucian’s neck. If I can just kill him, the hallucinations will end. But before I have the chance to choke him, another tremor passes. The ground shifts beneath me, and Not Lucian falls, landing over me without crushing me.
Trying to protect me?
He offers me a hand, and I push it away. He drops to his knees. I stiffen, moving away, ready to fight, as something red catches my eye, glimmering in the sun along his waist.
Lucian’s hand cups my cheek, holding fast to me. I count every finger that meets my skin. One. Three. Five. Calloused, like they’ve always been.
Is the school really collapsing? Did I do something when I was hallucinating?
Is this happening because of me?
What could I have possibly done to tear down part of a school? This has to be a coincidence… But my gut still curls.
“We have to go.” Lucian shifts, and the red glimmer glares in my eyes again.
I raise a hand to block the light, but that might be the last thing I should do.
Sitting up quickly, I reach behind him. He smiles, thinking I’m obeying.
I’m doing far from it. My hand settles on the glowing red, trying to pull it from his waistband.
I bite my tongue, the scream building in my chest. On instinct, my hand recoils.
Burning.
On my palm, there’s a fresh wound covering the tattoo Mial gave me. Bit by bit, the black ink disappears beneath the burn.
My miracle magical cure is a dagger?
My breath catches as I look up. “You kept it?”
I killed a man with that dagger, and Lucian kept the evidence. I thought he got rid of it. But he never trusted me. Not when we danced. Not when he saved me. Everything was fake—as fake as the hallucinations.
He was always using me. He didn’t have feelings for me. Not even then. Not even now. It was always a game, and like an idiot, I fell for it.
I fell for him.
How stupid. This man is made to kill me. He has the means to do it, it seems. If that red knife burns through my skin like the Arcanes, then there’s only one thing it could be.
How am I supposed to use the Soul Ruby if I can’t even hold it?
Without warning, Lucian grabs me by the waist, throws me over his shoulder, and runs. Behind us, the rest of the academy crumbles, stone falling with a deafening crash. The world shakes in rhythm with my eardrums. Stone races toward us.
When I look forward, I see the sheath holding the Soul Ruby. We’ve had it the entire time, disguised as a knife. What a clever place to hide it.
The avalanche of marble chases us. I close my eyes, waiting to be crushed, but soon my feet hit the floor.
Lucian looks down at me expectantly. I shake my head—what do I say? The dagger is the ruby, but he kept it. The only reason is he planned to use it against me. Even then, with every dance and every word, he intended to betray me.
“What?” I say.
Lucian wipes his forehead, slick with sweat. “I could’ve left you there to die.”
“You wish that could kill me.” I shove him away from me, and he crashes into a nearby tree with a thud.
Dust billows in the air, reaching us from the wreckage. I almost cough. Lucian does.
I step forward. Lucian doesn’t resist as I reach behind him. My hand rests on the burning blade. I hiss, hoping he doesn’t hear, as I pull it from the sheath and drop it to the ground. The pain ripples through my hand on a delay.
To distract Lucian from my pain, I press my forearm into his chest. He can’t see what kind of weapon he holds against me.
“Why did you keep it?” It isn’t a question he can answer, but I have to know.
Lucian doesn’t even glance down. He knows what I’m talking about.
“It was you,” he whispers, his voice full of breath. “That was yours.”
He says it as if he means it to be magnificent. But he took that dagger after I killed a Lyrian soldier, not because he thought I was magnificent, but because he thought I was dangerous.
“No,” I say. “Someone attacked me with it.”
Suddenly, the soldier using the knife against me makes a lot more sense. He was trying to contain me—sent by Queen Leiana, who already knew I was an Arcane. It’s the only reason she didn’t kill me. She knew she couldn’t.
Finally, Lucian looks down at the knife. I take a deep breath, my arm faltering against his chest, almost letting go.
“And it burns you?” he asks, looking at my hand. He spots the burn that stole Mial’s tattoo from me, the scar that stripped me of the last bit of kindness I felt.
“No,” I say.
Lucian gestures to the Soul Ruby, sitting idly on the ground. “May I?”
I press my arm into his collarbone. He sucks in a broken breath. “No.”
His eyes widen with hope. His voice is low and hushed as he says, “It is.”
“Aibek,” I warn.
Lucian shakes his head. “It’s yours. It always was.”
I’m not sure why, but I falter.
“May I?” he asks again.
I release him, and he drops to the floor, picking up the knife with reverence.
“I should have known,” he whispers, as if he doesn’t want me to hear.
I’m stunned, frozen as I stare at him. “Why?”
“When I hold this, it feels like I’m…” His eyes look extra blue right now, like the lake or the sky—less midnight and more dawn.
“What does it feel like?”
“Power,” he whispers.
“It just burns me.” It’s my world’s Soul Stone. Shouldn’t I be the one feeling its power?
“Yes,” he replies, his voice breathy. “The Soul Ruby was altered ages ago. They divided it and turned its parts into weapons against the Arcanes.”
Then this isn’t the Soul Ruby. Not entirely. It’s just a piece.
“And it’s mine,” I say.
“Do you have a way to carry such a weapon?”
“Well”—I shift on my feet—“not right now. Obviously.”
“I’ll bring it to my suite—”
“No,” I cut him off.
“And find a way for you to hold it. You can come and collect it. Shall we say tomorrow?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust him, but I don’t have another option. There’s no way I could carry it. The last time it was on my skin for more than a second, I lost consciousness and woke up bound by Queen Leiana.
I don’t like it—not at all—but I answer, “Tomorrow.”