Chapter 60
“Give him some incentive to stop,” Stadiel snarled at the male standing behind me. I glanced desperately toward Maelsar, who had been steadily creeping toward me since the trial began.
The knife hooked around my back and dug into the exposed skin under my ribs. A metallic tang filled the air as he dug it in—and it fucking hurt.
A cry tore through my clenched teeth.
No!
I tried to slam a barrier on our bond so Vaeron wouldn’t feel my pain.
But it was too late. The halo disappeared from around him, and his entire focus was on me. Zarethiel snatched at his distraction, magic whipping out and lacing around his neck. With a harsh yank, he pulled my mate backward.
The court screamed, cheering on the victory for the head of House Elyriane.
I wrinkled my nose, glaring at the nobles seated across from me. Disgusting, each and every one of them. Never had I hated anyone more than I did the Koron and Korona. Because now, not only would Vaeron lose, his magic would be stripped away.
I’d wished for that, all those months ago, after he’d captured me.
And now, here I was, sick at the thought of someone cutting him off from his divine Command.
Light surged from Vaeron as he clutched at his neck, body dragging across the floor toward his opponent. A trail of ruby marked where he had been.
My breath was shallower than a puddle on the street after a heavy rain.
Zarethiel flung more power around Vaeron’s limbs, attempting to control him. Ice-blue eyes collided with mine as one arm, then another, slapped to the marble.
The male who had emerged from behind the cold mask was gone.
Instead, I saw the monster who always lurked beneath.
The Issaraeth.
No soul. No life.
Only rage.
“Fuck!” I heard Maelsar curse a heartbeat before white exploded. A shockwave of power shattered every single mirror. Shards tinkled to the ground. Nobles cried out. Around me, people ducked, covering their heads.
And yet, amid the blinding, a void crept in on the edges of my vision.
Our bond twisted tight with fury, flooding me with Vaeron’s every emotion. A flash of the past seared into my mind.
A male, so stern, so angry with irises in a familiar shade of blue, the corners crinkled with age, standing over me. Limbs pinned. Helpless. A bronze blade dove to my chest. Fire burned where it dragged against my flesh.
“Duty above all, Vaeron. Do not forget.”
I gasped, slamming back into myself.
“What is he doing?” Iaoth shrieked. Calrien’s grip on me tightened.
But my mate was in the throes of something violent and tortured. I couldn’t breathe. My skin was too tight. My spine tingled like the static in the air before a bolt struck the earth. I flashed in and out of my body, in and out of my mind.
“Vaeron!” I shouted down our mental connection, trying to anchor him amid the storm.
A growl rent the air.
“Vaeron, stop!”
The whirlwind continued, picking up shards of the broken mirrors. I barely managed to duck one as it flew by.
“You’re going to hurt me!”
That killed the howling. The incandescence stilled. Yet my ears still rung with something otherworldly.
The glow fell away; shadows edged in again.
The bright coin in the sky reflected off a million jagged shards, illuminating the space. The entire world spun, wobbled beneath my feet.
A roar rose from the crowd, clashing with Iaoth’s screech.
Because there, mere feet from the throne, was Vaeron.
Standing.
And Zarethiel was on his hands and knees, a collar of magic around his throat and a bronze blade pressed against it.
No no no no no no no…
The Goddess had passed her judgment. The light had chosen—and it wasn’t who the crown had wanted.
Vaeron was the victor.
No one moved. No one breathed.
Until chaos erupted all at once. “Seize him!” Stadiel ordered, all pretense that this was a fair fight forgotten.
Maelsar flew toward me on the edge of the blackness, and the blade dug deeper into my side, ripping a cry from my throat. But in the next heartbeat, it was gone, as was the male who had been holding me hostage.
Guards raced forward, toward my mate, as I hit the ground. Pain arced up my shoulder, but I wasn’t on my side long before Maelsar was hauling me up and away.
“No!” I screamed, reaching for Vaeron. He drew two new blades, swinging them in mad arcs as he clashed with his attackers.
“We have to get out of here. He’ll find us,” Maelsar gritted out as I twisted in his hold.
Stadiel’s voice boomed over the madness, calling for the nobles to remain where they were. My mate disappeared as his best friend dragged me behind the thrones. I ripped my gaze forward, finding a row of royal guards waiting, swords drawn, for us.
“Hand her over,” their leader barked.
Maelsar hauled me over his shoulder and raced me back the way we’d come. Toward Vaeron.
A pile of bodies littered the space around him, and we cleared them in a powerful leap. I slid to the floor as Maelsar created a shield of white around us. “What do we do?” he shouted at Vaeron.
My mate captured me in his arms, holding me against his chest. “My magic is almost gone. We have to fight our way out.”
“I’m ready to die if you are,” Maelsar grinned—a bloodthirsty, violent expression that should have sent fear skittering to my toes.
Vaeron placed a blade in my palm. The weight of it was foreign, heavy, unbalanced. “Please, please protect yourself too. There’s only so much I can do when we are outnumbered so greatly. I love you, Sylaira. I need you. We will make it out of this.”
My fingers closed around the cool metal. I braced myself for the inevitable moment I’d have to join them in murder if we wanted to be free of this colossal mistake.
My mate spoke again, some sort of plan, but his words were blurry, distant.
I blinked, trying to focus on his face. On the shape of words his lips made. But nothing was making sense.
The air thickened. The moon brightened, brilliantly blinding above the swirl of radiance entombing us. Yet threaded through it were the whorls of onyx, threatening to swallow everything in existence.
Something is wrong. What is happening to me?
“Sylaira?”
Vaeron’s velvety tone drifted through the haze.
I shook my head, trying to clear it, but more black edged in. I tried to breathe, but it was like inhaling glass.
My throat was too tight.
I clutched it like I could claw it open.
This wasn’t fear; this was a divine hand on the back of my neck.
My spine went rigid, head snapping to the luminous sky above. My knees collapsed under me, and even the blast of pain wasn’t enough to bring me back from the brink.
Vaeron’s face eclipsed the moon. I reached for him, but was too weak to move. Too weak to cling to him for comfort.
Yet as he held me, there was no remorse in his eyes. Only a dichotomous mix of guilt and relief.
Why is he not concerned?
Horror shattered through my veins as a void engulfed me.
He’s not surprised…
Stormwood filled my nostrils, but it wasn’t enough to anchor me amid the oncoming storm.
That virelthorn was always mixed with something else, wasn’t it?
Betrayal slid between my ribs like the thinnest of blades. I snatched for the bond, attempting to slam the door between us shut.
Because it wasn’t the herb that had silenced my power. No, I’d been primed for a prophecy—for how long now?—and Vaeron was responsible. How many lies had he fed me in careful, tiny doses?
Why, Goddess, why?
The chaos around us blinked out of existence for the briefest of moments. I lost my grip on my magic.
A scream—visceral, terrorized—echoed in my ears, along with the sounds of clashing swords. Sounds so familiar from years of tortured power.
Vaeron spoke again, the steel of his tone scraping against the wound he had created. “Forgive me, Sylaira. Please. It was the only way to keep you safe.”
The dagger I had been holding dropped, pinging against the blood-soaked marble. It was the last thing I heard before succumbing to the violent darkness.
Because then…
I Saw the end.