23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
“ M y dagger?” Asheros arches a brow. “What for?”
Tugging lightly at his sleeve, I pull him outside with me so as not to disturb the others. It’s only once the door leading into Arella’s cottage is closed that I meet his eyes and let my shields fall.
“I need to—I want to speak with Viridian again. Before we leave for Illnamoor. I have to.” I pause, willing my tired mind to still, even if it’s just for a moment. “I have to know that he and Cryssa are all right, for now.”
Briefly closing his eyes, Asheros tilts his head back in understanding. “Of course.” His diamond-like stare meets mine, bearing into me. “Whatever you need, Bladesinger. Just say the word and it’s yours.”
I take a breath. My stomach clenches with the need to take care of this immediately, to eliminate the threat to Viridian and Cryssa’s rule, the threat to the kingdom itself. But right now, that’s not possible. Right now, all I can do is make sure that my High King and Queen—my friends —are safe.
Asheros’s expression softens, as if he’s attempting to decipher what I’m feeling.
I don’t have the words to explain it, nor do I want to. I’m too tired to sit down and talk about our feelings like a gaggle of soft-tempered fae with too much time on their hands. But he doesn’t ask me to. It’s like I’m an open book, or a language, only he can speak. He seems to know what I need without me having to say it.
Withdrawing his silver dagger, Asheros holds it in front of me so the blade runs perpendicular to the ground. Moonlight makes the silver metal gleam, and I can see my eyes reflected on the surface. He closes his eyes and the metal seems to ripple. The effect on the dagger’s surface is slower than the mirror’s, looking more like molten rock than water.
This time Viridian’s face doesn’t appear in the image reflected on the dagger’s blade. I squint, trying to make out more of the minute details.
Only, there are none.
All I see is blackness and what appears to be a grainy texture.
Wood?
What object did Asheros’s spell connect with?
“Viridian?” I ask, keeping my voice just above a hushed whisper. I don’t know where he is, or where in the castle my image is coming through, and I don’t want to alert anyone other than my intended recipients of my presence.
I wait a moment with no response.
“Viridian?” I repeat, raising my voice.
A shuffling sound emits from the dagger, and then the image shifts, like it’s being picked up and moved. Golden-brown eyes connect with mine.
“Cryssa.” I exhale, letting my mouth perk up. “So glad to see you’re not ignoring me.”
“And deny myself the pleasure of talking to one of my favorite people?” She snorts. “Not a chance.”
“Good,” I say, my lips parting for my grin. “Is Viridian nearby?”
“He’s right here.” She turns her face away from me. Another one comes into view. From what I can see, Viridian’s wispy black hair is tousled, falling in front of his amber eyes. His lips are puffy, and there’s a glint of something in his expression.
“Gods above,” I groan to myself. “Have I interrupted something?
“No,” Viridian shoots out a little too quickly, running a hand through his hair, sweeping it back from his face. “Nothing at all.”
Cryssa’s cheeks are flushed, and from the mischievous smirk playing at her mouth, I know it’s not from embarrassment.
“Where am I coming through this time, anyway?”
He pauses. “The back of Cryssa’s hairbrush.”
In front of me, Asheros chuckles softly, the dagger wobbling a little when he does.
“Sure.” I draw out the word. My eyes flick to Asheros, my smile widening, and then back to Viridian. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty. Regardless, that’s not why I wanted to speak with you.” The amusement fades from my voice, leaving my tone all-business. “Have you heard from Myrdin as of late?”
Viridian furrows his brows. “Myrdin? Not within a fortnight, no.” He angles his head, mouth tightening. “Why do you ask?”
I take a breath, then press my lips together. Part of me wants to be honest, but I can’t. It’s for their own good. Besides, other than what I do know of our suspect’s appearance, I have no real proof Myrdin’s responsible for Vorr’s death.
Not yet.
“I’m merely gathering information.” Keeping my suspicions to myself, I ask, “What was the last message you received from him?”
“Nothing unusual. Simply a status report with nothing out of place.” Viridian’s eyes narrow. “Is Myrdin in danger?”
“No,” I tell him, shaking my head .
“Then what is it?” Cryssa asks, pointed curiosity bleeding through her voice.
“I don’t have enough facts to make a proper determination, but once I do, you two will be the first to know,” I assure her, though both still don uneasy expressions. Perhaps communicating with them was a mistake.
Regardless, it’s much too late to change that now.
“I can’t talk for much longer, but I will say this. Until I return, be wary of who enters the castle.” Knotted with tension, my shoulders rise. “Even those you consider friends.”
Color fades from Cryssa’s face. “You’re scaring me, Lymseia.”
“I don’t mean to.” Regret rises in my throat, begging me to close my mouth. “Just—” I pause. “Be careful. That’s all.”
Viridian nods, his expression unreadable. “We will.”
“Good.” I let myself relax, slightly.
“Promise us you’ll be careful, too,” Viridian says, a firm look set at his brow. “If anything happened to you because of what you’re doing on our behalf…”
“I’ll be all right,” I promise, looking between the two of them. “When this is all over, I’ll be back at High Keep to give you hell.”
“You’d better,” Cryssa teases. “Because if you’re not, I’ll have no problem dragging you back here where you belong myself.”
I laugh. “Gods be damned if I let that happen.”
Though it’s brief, the hint of a smile tugs at Viridian’s mouth. It’s the last thing I see before the image wavers and then fades. The silver blade stills until only the reflection of the moonlight is left visible on its surface.
Lifting the collar of his shirt, Asheros returns the dagger to its place strapped against his chest. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
Releasing a long sigh, I shake my head. “Not at all.”
I thought knowing Viridian and Cryssa are safe, for now anyway, would ease some of my worries. That, perhaps, hearing news of Myrdin would dispel my suspicions.
I was wrong.
I’ve gained no new, helpful information. If anything, my suspicions about Myrdin grow deeper, and knowing he hasn’t sent Cryssa and Viridian any meaningful communications within a fortnight’s time, doesn’t help. For all we know, he could be galivanting around the kingdom sowing the seeds of Viridian and Cryssa’s downfall.
But why?
Despite all the signs pointing to him, I can’t seem to determine his motive. The Myrdin I know isn’t motivated by power.
Or greed.
But perhaps he isn’t the male I thought I knew.
Guilt roils my stomach, twisting in my abdomen. What kind of friend am I to believe someone I called my brother could be a murderer hell-bent on tearing apart the kingdom we both love? If there’s a chance I’m wrong, how can I ever look him in the eye knowing my faith in him faltered?
My throat constricts. Heaviness sets into my chest, the weight of it seemingly enough to pull me beneath the earth. Savell’s concerns from earlier echo in my mind.
“This is purely speculation. There’s nothing definitive.”
He’s right.
There’s nothing conclusive that points to Myrdin as our target, nor is there any evidence to show that the red-eyed male is even headed for Illnamoor.
My breath catches, and I feel as though I’ll choke on it.
We have nothing. Absolutely nothing.
And I despise it.
As Captain of the High King’s Guard, I would never pursue a lead without concrete evidence. It wasn’t worth sending squadrons with nothing to go on. It was a waste of manpower. A terrible risk, especially when going in blind meant blood could be shed.
Ceren had taught me that. She taught me to value each and every life under my command.
It’s the exact opposite of what I’m doing now. I’m sending males and females into a potentially dangerous situation without a legitimate cause. If I wouldn’t send members of my guard after a murderous fae with unknown power, then why am I doing that to Asheros and his inner circle?
Pressing my eyes shut, I try to avoid the answer. And fail. The bitter truth pierces me, sharper than any blade .
I have no other choice.
Vorr’s murderer has backed us into a wall. If we wait to act, he’ll incite a war. If we don’t wait to act, we lose precious time searching for him in all the wrong places.
We’re damned either way.
Fear we’ll fail—fear I’m sending us straight to our deaths—rises over me, all-consuming, swallowing me whole. Tears prick my eyes, the rush of emotion flooding my senses, desperate for an escape. It disrupts my composure, wearing down the careful calm I’ve worked so desperately to build over the years.
All of it falls away, and like a dam, I break.
“Lymseia,” Asheros murmurs softly, gently cupping my face with both hands. “Talk to me, my Bladesinger.” His thumbs caress my cheeks in circular motions. “What are you feeling?”
“I—I can’t…” I pant through sobs, hating myself for losing control like this.
His voice is even. Patient. “You can’t what, love?”
“I can’t do this,” I mutter, over and over. “I can’t—I can’t let anything happen to you. To any of you.”
“You won’t.” He sounds so sure, so genuine in his belief.
“You can’t know that,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.
He touches his forehead to mine. “But I know you.”
My tears come more violently now. Shaking my head, I pull away from him, taking several steps back. “My mother always wanted me to be like her. To be wise and loved by our people. To be a symbol of hope for all the Steel Court and what our family stood for.” I clench my fists, digging them into my thighs. “Ever since I was a child, I’ve been failing at that.”
Asheros just watches me, brows pinched. His eyes intent on mine.
“My sister, Vestella, is a born leader.” I look away. “She excelled in history, mathematics, and politics when we were children, and I didn’t. She’s the picture of grace, of elegance, and I’m too headstrong, too rough around the edges. She’s truly meant to be Head of House one day—it’s who she is. But me?” I pause. “That’s not who I am.”
Slowly, Asheros closes the gap between us. He takes my hands. His grip is light, but firm, as if to say, “ I’m right here.”
And gods above, I need that strength to keep going.
To admit my own failures. To him. To myself.
“Everything that made my mother disappointed in me—my lack of refinement, my blunt mouth, my refusal to accept injustice—became a strength the moment I joined the Guard.” Swallowing, I do my best to clear the lump from my throat. “My somewhat brutish exterior made the male trainees respect me, made them see me as one of them. When I became captain, my bluntness seamlessly became command, and then, an unquestionable show of authority.”
Asheros’s crystal-blue eyes deepen, so vast that not even the ocean itself can compare.
My voice wavers, but I don’t stop. “I’m a warrior. That is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been, ever since the days of fighting pretend battles with my sister in the woods when we were children.” I press my lips together to fight the fresh tears gathering in my eyes, though I’m not successful. “I’m not—” I choke on my words. “I’m not enough. I can’t—I can’t do what they need me to do. What the gods-damn realm needs me to do.”
Asheros’s lips part, but I continue before he can speak.
“That’s why… That’s why I don’t talk about home much. Because it brings up things I’d much rather forget.”
He’s silent for a long while. Just looking at me. Holding my hands. Pulling me closer, until our noses nearly touch.
“You are more than enough, Lymseia, my Bladesinger. And you always— always— will be.” Brushing loose hair out of my eyes, he forces me to look at him. “I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that you can do anything and everything you set your mind to.”
Blinking away moisture, I lock my gaze with his. “I have no army. No guards to command. This threat… I fear it’s something I won’t walk away from on my own.”
“You have me,” he murmurs. Intertwining our fingers, he presses our hands to his chest. “You have the six of us.”
“And if we’re not enough?” I bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling. “What then?”
He clutches my hands tighter, a warm look pooling in his diamond irises.
Gods-damn me, I swear that’s love I see there.
“I’ve always admired you, you know,” Asheros finally admits. His mouth relaxes, and his delicately calculated mask falls completely, letting me see his true self underneath. “Ever since the first time I saw you. It was my first time at High Keep. I was attending my first council meeting with my father. I was so unsure of myself at the time—I didn’t know who I was, or what kind of male I wanted to be.”
Gods, he’s only just begun, but I already ache to hold him.
He pauses, lips tugged upward into the hint of a smile. “And then we passed the training grounds. You were everything I wasn’t, everything I wished I could be. Unafraid. Resilient. Stronger than I could ever be.” His thumbs continue to brush my hands, the movement mindless. “You were surrounded by your peers, sparring with another trainee. I watched him strike you down, once, twice, three times.”
His stare doesn’t waver. Neither does his voice.
“You were battered and broken. But still, you rose to your feet with that determined look on your face—that look I’ve come to love more than anything in the gods-damned world. Every single time. And even though you lost that match, you walked away from the fight grinning like it was you who emerged victorious.”
Emotion gathers in my chest, but this time, the tears that come aren’t from fear, or sadness. It’s joy. The kind that comes from being seen, truly seen, and accepted for the person that you are.
“Even after you rose through the ranks, and became Captain of the High King’s Guard, you never lost that spirit.” The tenderness in Asheros’s voice nearly brings me to my knees. “You and those singing blades, the blades you are completely one with, the blades that are an extension of yourself. You can do anything and everything. No male, fear, or even the gods themselves can ever stand in your way.”
Letting my defenses fall, I let go of the feelings I try to contain. I let my walls fall. Let the tears flow from my eyes. Let the cage surrounding my heart disintegrate.
Because I’m with a male who makes me feel so safe. So protected.
So loved.
Touching his palm to my cheek, he caresses my face with his thumb. “So no, my Bladesinger. I have absolutely no doubts when it comes to following you.”
The corner of my mouth perks up. “None at all?”
“None at all,” he repeats, his words filled with promise. “There is no place in this realm I wouldn’t follow you into. Even in death.”
Throwing my arms around him, I bring my mouth to his. The salt of my tears mixes with the taste of him, but there is nothing in the gods-damned world that could tear my lips from his. He envelops me in his arms, the warmth of his body surrounding mine.
I’ve never needed anyone the way I need this male.
He is mine.
All mine.
Body and soul.