Chapter 27 #2
Unfortunately, the hollow cracking filled the silence and eclipsed my poor attempt to cover it. Once the noise ceased, the banging upon the door began, and Aelen slammed through it, panting and distressed. His wide eyes didn’t deviate from me, perched on the rickety frame.
Shit.
“What are you doing up there?” He clipped every word and grew louder with each one. “Why have you shattered the window?”
I retreated, earning me no distance but tripping me over the quilt and nearly falling into what little glass remained.
I searched for any out, briefly considering jumping out the window and hoping for the best, but he yanked me down by the arm. With every moment, my chances of escape were rapidly dwindling, a mirror to the sadness reflecting in his eyes.
“Speak. What are you hiding?” He reached for my wrist, but I flinched away, my other hand hidden beneath my clothes and tightening around the blade. That was a mistake; his eyes flared, and he pursed his lips. “What’s changed?”
My mind spun, searching for the closest lie. But when I came up with nothing, I chose the worst path possible—the truth.
“You forced this pact on me. You’re the reason I’m dying.” My voice ripped from me, marked with anger, confusion, and everything that had been building since I met him. “You butchered Nenlyn,” I screamed.
Whatever color was on his pale skin drained away, leaving icy unease behind.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But his eyes flickered in their orbs, his pupils almost vibrating.
“Stop lying. You’re the demon that put this on me!” With every word, I shook the back of my hand at him, forcing him to look at where he’d marked me. Where he’d chained me.
“I’ve done nothing but aid you, even save you from the brink of death, and yet you spit accusations into the face of everything I’ve done.” He closed the distance between us in one large stride. “That will be enough.”
His tone snapped the few strings that held my heart together, replacing them with a blinding heat that blazed across my face. My breath caught in my chest as I drew the knife. “You lying bastard!”
The light caught in the reflective blade and glinted near his trembling lips. From how he shook, I expected the adjoining stench of fear to waft off him. And all it took was me pulling a knife.
“Put it away,” he growled, stepping closer.
I retreated, but only for a moment before pushing closer, brandishing it. He wasn’t going to kill me without a fight. “No!”
I pushed him back, and he tried to catch my blade. A quick motion, but too slow. I shoved it deep into his belly. My pulse thundered through my deft fingers, but I was unafraid. It sank without resistance until I buried it up to the hilt.
But he didn’t scream. No sound left his lips as he met my eyes with a blaze behind his. Without a word, he reached down, wrapping his fingers around mine, and withdrew the blade. When he tossed it into the corner with a clatter, not a single drop of crimson dripped from the wound.
When I dared to look, there was no entry point. Nothing. Except a hole in his leather jack.
Not normal. Not mortal.
My heart somehow quickened as I stumbled back, putting as much distance between us as I could. “What are you?”
“I told you to put it away.” Soft and strained. Holding back. “I can explain.” But his shaking hands and cautious movements said otherwise. The color still hadn’t returned, and he was a ghost, looming toward me. There was no explaining this. He was the lone ghoul of my nightmares.
“There’s nothing you could say to explain this,” I yelled, my whole body shaking. “Why did you kill Nenlyn?”
“He tried to kill you. There was no other choice.” He pressed on. “Didn’t you see the wound he left in your leg? If I weren’t there, he would have returned to finish the job!”
“You didn’t have to kill him!”
“Yes, I did,” he bellowed. “He deserved what I did to him. He dared to lay his filthy godsdamn fingers on you. He tried to take your eye! He’s lucky I made it as quick as I did. He deserved pain. Suffering. He left a fucking hole in you!”
He couldn’t know Nenlyn tried to put the blade through my eye. I didn’t tell him that.
I hated, no, loathed how much I wanted to be angry over Nenlyn—but I despised the lingering knowing that if Aelen hadn’t killed him, I’d have his blood on my hands.
But he didn’t deserve to be hung.
He pressed forward, and I fell back against the door. The wood cracked until it ripped the hinges and spat me into the entryway. Had he killed all the other trainers? Slaughtered them too? I needed to leave. It explained so much and yet answered so little.
I didn’t wait for him to follow, scrambling up and taking off toward the door—and to the city.
The cold exploded around me, but I didn’t care; I couldn’t feel it.
Telling him anything was a mistake. I should have gone to Maelindiir first. I shouldn’t have returned for that damned cloak, and let the bitter cold eat me alive.
The anger wrenched through me. That he’d killed Nenlyn, but worse, that he’d lied. That shouldn’t be worse, but for some reason, it throbbed in my guts and tore through me with a pain I’d never known. Why did I care? Why couldn’t I stop caring?
His father would suffer for this, I know he’d put him up to this. To seduce me and make me love him. To weaken me and punish me for my father’s sins. To hell with both of them.
I refuse to lower myself and beg. I will grab that bastard and demand he let me leave. Maybe the knife wouldn’t kill Aelen, but it will cull his father. I’d threaten him, veiled or plainly, the bastards.
The lying, aching bastards.
After I killed my father, I’d never look back.
I will curse their names. Make them rue the day.
I held back the sting of tears and ran. I fled until my chest burned and my throat ached. I let the ice slice through me as I bolted through the streets of Eltidian, unveiled and ignored the stares, gasps, and shocked screams. Let them kill me in plain daylight. Let them try.
The pain was nothing as I barreled into the palace door.
When the guards approached me, shouting and shoving me back, I held out my hands.
Anger coursed through my veins, and with not a single word but every ounce of pain, blue fire formed and consumed them, throwing them back like dolls.
It shot from my fingertips but came from my heart.
While they groaned in a pile of shifting, bent armor, I tore up the steps and past the floor-length mirrors.
I’ll make Aelen’s father beg. I’ll slice him from limb to limb.
Two guards awaited me with halberds crossed, but the magic wrapped around my arms, seething, and searching for a target to inflict with pain. More than Aelen had caused me. The humid heat snaked up my skin, and the sight made them move aside with a shiver.
I bolted into the next room and spun. The hallways were a maze of glass and mirror, with dark smoke hanging in their corners.
I’d found myself in a labyrinth of me. My body shook, but my face was stable as I turned and tried to find my way through the crystal-walled rooms. He was in here somewhere, running from me.
I ran my fingers along the looking glasses, and every time I came to a false end, they’d flash, their blue reflecting in every other wall.
My free hand remained balled into a fist, my nails driving ever further into the flesh.
Soon, my palm was slick with blood, enough to leave a crimson trail to follow.
When I reached the final hall, it opened up into a pentagon of mirrors, each filled with the dark, foreboding form of Maelindiir.
He shifted his weight, and so did every reflection.
The darkened corners now moved and seethed, licking and spreading across the silver surface.
Were those his shadows this whole time? Following me across the depths of the forest and playing with me like prey.
This was yet another game. He wanted me to figure out which was him. But I was done being a pawn, for him or his son.
No more.
“Your child is a bastard, just like you.”
He turned toward me, the abyss beneath the hood now focused on my unholy shaking. I was hoping for him to lunge, to lash out in anger, but instead—he lifted his head back and laughed.
A slickly gray chin was the only thing the light touched, along with sharpened pearly fangs that mocked me.
“But I’ve no heir.”
The words condensed around me, so palpable I could reach out and touch them, wringing their neck, but instead, I decided to cull their source. To cease the talking and laughing forever. Bastard.
I barreled toward the first mirror, with my balled fist held high until it met the glass. The pain was instant, but not as quick as the wall of noise and shattering.
My bloodied and torn knuckles could barely ball back up as I rushed toward the next mirror, but Maelindiir’s voice stopped me. “Stop.” Pain and desperation dripped from it, in a way I was all too familiar with. I knew that voice.
My bloody and violent show was enough to take him off balance, and when I raised my crimson-painted hand, he stepped forward, away from the mirrors and into the silver light. The little of his sallow skin that showed gathered the beams like a kaleidoscope of anguish.
But I ignored it and shot forward, grabbing the true Maelindiir by his hood. I tore until the cloth ripped, shredded by a pair of familiar horns.
Beneath, even more familiar cheeks shone wet, dripping. His tears ran down the hollow, carved cheeks I’d laid beside, and touched. One’s I’d silently mouthed I love you to. Soft lips I’d kissed, that had broken all my walls, and shattered my spirit with their lies.
But it was those sapphire and tear-brimmed eyes that stole my words. The same ones I had peered into and trusted. The very same that I’d put all my hopes and worries of tomorrow in, and freely fell into. Now they stared down at me, sad and broken, with all hints of anger gone.
Aelendir, Maelindiir. They were one and the same.