Chapter 39
thirty-nine
The ghost behind me was long gone.
Now he bent before me and asked for death.
I let the knife tumble from me, and when he followed it, I cracked my palm against his cheek. It didn’t redden, but I knew it ached. I wished it would ache more.
He shuddered, and when he went to hand me the knife, I slapped him again. The crack resonated off the high stone walls.
“You lied to me.” I didn’t want the tears to slip down my cheek, but they defied me and did despite me. I wanted to pick up the blade and shove it into his chest.
The desire was so overwhelming it ached. It tore me to shreds and split me into two.
But I couldn’t.
“I’m nothing but a tool to you!”
“Please forgive me,” he replied. “I didn’t know I’d love you. You cast a light on me I didn’t know existed.”
“That’s not an excuse! You bastard!” The tears gnashed me.
“You may call me arrogant. A bastard. Prideful, even a pitiful excuse for a man. Whatever pleases you. I despise how I’ve wounded you.”
The earnestness infuriated me. How dare he, after everything?
“The only reason you even came here, crossed the river, showed your fucking face is because I was going to die, and you didn’t want your father to have my power.”
The hurt bloomed across his face. A deep wound lashed with not a single blade.
“If your light went out, the whole world would be dark. I wouldn’t mourn you because of some magic you might have, but for the loss of your laugh.
The absence of your song. The way you brightened in this dark, horrible world.
” He blinked away the tears. “I can’t fathom never hearing your voice again.
The woman who bonded with the haunted dragon and refused to die. ”
“I don’t believe you!”
Yes, I did.
“You may kill me, torture me. Press the blade into my throat and steal my life. But the one thing you may not do is go.”
“I don’t forgive you!” I screamed. When I tried to crack my hand against him again, he caught my wrist.
“Your hand is hardly a viable weapon, not when you’ve trained with a dragon.” Tears slipped down his cheeks. “I deserve your anger. Never let that rage go. Let it seethe and consume you. Now, will you have my head?”
“You already know my answer.”
He jumped up to a stand and swept me from my feet. I inhaled sharply at the movement and cried when he pressed his palm to my back. He almost jerked away, but stopped, tossing me into his arms and hurried across the square.
“Then you must go inside before you cease. I refuse to allow that.”
I protested, but found my movements tired and languid. My body finally stalled, and my arms refused to respond. But once we entered the palace, the heat drove into me like nails, and he hurried up the spiraling stairs without waiting for my reply.
In the front hall, orange fire blazed and I’phri bodies pressed against each other, filling every corner. Some gaped at our entry, but soon settled. There were brief murmurs and hushed whispers, but those quieted to the crackling fire and long breaths.
My teeth rattled, but I asked anyway. “Why are the I’phri here?”
“They would die out there.”
“Is it all of them?”
“Everyone I could find.”
I swallowed and bit down on the flood of emotions. The tears continued, and so did he until we walked through the hallway of looking glasses—the floor coated in piles of broken glass and shattered mirrors.
I searched for a single untouched one, but found none.
What remained reflected haunting ghosts of mismatched light upon the walls. But the further we went, the dimmer it became until we were in near darkness. With every step, the shadows swam upon the ceiling, twisting restlessly.
I drifted as we traversed the unending halls of broken mirrors and shattered dreams.
We traveled through dim walls and darkened rooms until we eventually stopped. He hesitated as I grappled while he placed me on something soft. I felt around to find thick covers and fine silk—a bed. But my eyes didn’t adjust, and the void had finally consumed me.
I shuddered.
“It’s dark.”
His hands unwrapped the blankets from my trembling body, and with a single stroke of his finger, a flame roared across my skin, stealing the last of the cold. “We are creatures of the dark and keepers of the forest.”
“But you’re not I’phri—you’re something else.”
His hands jerked, cringing away, and I could feel him fighting the urge to run. His feet shuffled, disturbing the quiet and grating on what little peace remained. “I am I’phri—half.”
“Why do you have horns?”
He bent low, his fingers trailing across me. Once his icy lips brushed my ear, every hair across my body rose. “Please cease, before I lose my patience.” He pulled back, but I could feel his presence looming. “When I fought back, he bound and cursed me. Eltide will be my tomb.”
“The forest is your prison.” How could I not have seen this before? He couldn’t come across the bridge, nor could he walk across that river. “How far can you go?”
“Not very.” He swallowed, and the sound cut through the dark.
“The avatars can go further, but become weaker the longer the tether. They are woven with a spark of lumen and a shard of myself, but too far, and that flame snuffs. They could hardly traverse your kingdom before the wall fell. Only an empty shell barely capable of existing, let alone talking.”
“What about the demon?”
He seemed uncomfortable, shuffling around in the darkness. “We’re lucky the dungeons are as close to the gorge as they are. It was easier once the barrier fell, but now it would be impossible—otherwise it would alert O’tvar.”
I paused and let my thoughts marinate on my tongue. “I’m meant to be angry at you.”
“I know.”
“I’m meant to despise you.”
I know.
The words didn’t come from his mouth, and my stomach rolled. “Don’t do that,” I snapped, reeling.
“Apologies,” he replied, the back of his fingers stroking my cheek. He took my hand, turning it and running his forefinger where my pact lay. It didn’t flash, but I could feel it thrumming beneath the surface at his touch.
“You owe me a damn good apology and some answers.”
“If you won’t have my head, it’s the least you deserve.”
I couldn't speak, the words catching in my throat.
He knelt before me until his breath caressed my ear. “Forgive me.” His voice was low and laced with an urgency that stoked fire inside.
“Beg,” I breathed.
“No,” he growled.
I inhaled and pleaded with the fire to die, but the heat rolled across my belly. “Make the dark go away.”
He shifted. “But I like the dark. We are one.”
“Make it go away!”
He inhaled a long breath and released it along my neck. “If you must.”
The room blasted with blinding light. When I blinked it back, I was greeted with a pale glow that traced along the walls.
Bright shimmering specs coated them, swirling and twinkling.
They moved listlessly in familiar patterns.
Then it hit me—starlight. They were constellations across the obsidian walls.
They provided enough light to make out his features. But that brought a more difficult question to the surface.
“What do I call you? Who are you?”
“You know who I am.” I tried to ignore the mournfulness that clung to his words, but it was nearly impossible.
“Aelen doesn’t feel right.” But when the name left my lips, his head twitched toward me. He answered.
Against my better judgment, I laid my palm against his cheek. His flesh was icy, but the contours were exactly as I remembered. I despised that he felt like home. I briefly mused whether I truly hated it or if I felt obligated to feel that. I wasn’t certain I’d like the answer.
“Aelen.” That name was a whisper that floated across us like lace.
When he leaned his face against my hand, I supposed it must fit. But I was still angry. “Aelendir.”
He frowned and moved to let his lips graze the back of my hand. “Must you?”
“You never hated derivatives, did you?”
“Do you wish me to admit I found the sobriquet comforting?”
“Yes.”
He huffed, letting the sound puff his chest. “Never.” He roved his fingers across my skin, tracing and slipping beneath my torn shirt, but when he moved it too far and gazed down at my clavicle, he gasped. “By the Singers, there’s nothing left of you. You were gone for a fortnight.”
“You saw me in a dungeon—”
He ground his teeth together. “I did, and I released you!” He tore my coverings away. I tried to shrink back. To cover myself, but it was no use. His sapphire irises lit while his pupils shrank with rage. “You’re bloodied and bruised—there’s nothing left!” he screamed.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my spine from him.
“No, you’re not.” His fingers dug into my jaw’s flesh as he lifted it to meet his gaze. “You’re emaciated and torn to pieces.”
My mind spun back to the image of the people in the tavern. How, when Arlein lifted her tunic, I could count her ribs one by one.
“No, I’m not,” I whispered.
“I need to clean you,” he replied quickly, releasing me. “I knew your cheeks were filthy and you reeked, but…” he trailed off and let his gaze wander.
“You thought it was just from the tavern.”
He cocked his head until his hair fell down his shoulder like a raven river. “What tavern?”
“Didn’t you see? You seem to follow me everywhere like a plague. Except when I need you,” I snapped.
He cringed and shook his head. “No, I don’t see all, only when you call for me, request me. I don’t listen everywhere… it feels like a violation.”
“But I called for you in the dungeons, and you ignored me!” I inhaled sharply. “I needed you.”
“I’m not proud of that,” he said in a lower voice. “I’m so sorry.”
I slapped him again, letting the sound echo between us. I’m not proud of it, but I did.
But in the tavern, I didn’t call for him. I was too afraid. “What if I call your name again? Would you come? Or ignore me like the coward you are?”