87
When dawn came, the thick walls of shadows had already faded. Amlach was still asleep beneath me, his strong legs tangled with mine, and his arms holding me tight even though there was no need.
Because I was draped all over him.
I didn’t know how long I’d been squeezing him so spasmodically. I just knew I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.
I wanted to be able to control the darkness to keep him here. Forever. Unbeknownst to anyone.
I didn’t want the sun to come up.
I didn’t want him to go back to being Mornon the Abomination.
I wanted to keep listening to his steady breathing and admiring his sculpted profile and feeling the hair on his chest tickle my nipples.
I wanted to have him inside me once more, hard and insatiable.
I wanted to hear him growl my name again as he reached climax.
I wanted to pant his name into his ear as he filled me.
I wanted our love to save us.
But it was impossible.
I was about to wake him up and beg, beg, beg him to give up his lust for conquest and sheer power when I caught the echo of the soldiers’ paced footsteps and the rattle of hooves along the grassy main road through Aegel.
The army was moving.
My time with Amlach was over.
As if his subconscious had sensed it too, he inhaled suddenly, and his eyes flew open.
I parted my lips to tell him to close them, to go back to sleep, that I would protect him from everything and everyone, but no words came out.
It was as if terror had robbed me of my voice.
Amlach tried to sit up, but I pressed my palms on his chest to hold him down. He then took a breath full of hatred, grabbed my wrists, and forced me to sit up with him. I struggled to pull free from his grasp, so Amlach locked my hands on the mattress on either side of his legs.
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against his so forcefully that we both groaned. “Not yet,” I pleaded, rubbing my cheek hard against his beard. “Not yet.”
And he gave in with an angry sigh.
I ran my hands through his hair to remember its softness, over his shoulders to remember their strength. I tucked my head into the crook of his neck to imprint his scent on my memory, and I bit and sucked his throat so I wouldn’t forget the sound of his hisses of pleasure.
He kissed my arms, my palms. He buried his face in my hair to sniff me like an animal as he held me tight with anger. He ran his black fingers through my wavy hair with the face of someone who knew it was the last time.
However, when I tried to kiss him, he dodged my lips and swung his legs out of bed.
Before he could stand up, I slid my arms under his and clutched at the top of his shoulders like a hawk. “Please don’t go,” I gasped in despair. I kissed the tip of his ear, hearing him inhale sharply and shiver. “Stay.”
His body grew stiff as a block of stone as he shut down all emotions. As he cut me out.
The moment I realized I was no longer holding onto Amlach, but Mornon, chill spread through me, gradually freezing all my anguish, all my suffering.
All my love.
Very slowly, I released him and clenched the tangled bed sheets in my fists with such force that my knuckles turned white.
Mornon lingered on the bed’s edge for a few more seconds, marble-still, his mind seeming light years away.
Finally, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he rose.
He extended one hand toward his torn clothes, and they magically reappeared on him, whole.
He did the same for the boots, then turned slightly toward me.
“Don’t be late, Elf,” he said hollowly.
Then his black flames engulfed him.
When they extinguished, there was a splendid black armor where Mornon had been.
It stood on its own, as if worn by an invisible being.
Overlying a long, heavy leather robe and trousers of the same fabric tucked into boots, it was traced by shiny onyx decorations that wound across the greaves, the plates protecting the backs of the hands, the armguards, the shoulder straps, and the armor shaped like a spider web.
The web that Mornon had spun around me since our first encounter. And from which I could not escape.
So, with tearstained cheeks, I took a deep breath and accepted what was to come.
I left the bed I would never sleep in again and went to wash myself. I twisted my front locks into two side braids and, mustering courage, approached the armor. I reached out: The metal, which should have been cold, was hot.
But that wasn’t what caused me to flinch.
The moment I touched it, the armor dissolved and then reassembled on my body. All its parts fit perfectly, and it was so lightweight that I almost felt like I wasn’t wearing it.
I felt a faint burning sensation on my forehead, then I sensed the weight of a tiara resting between my braids. I traced its pointed edges with my fingers, recognizing the smoothness of the onyx that created the eerie pattern of a bramble.
The white glow of Calien’s Crystal suddenly caught my attention. I moved to the bench and picked up the necklace, examining it. I couldn’t wear it during the upcoming fight, as I risked losing it or having one of the spikes hit me in the eye.
So, I removed the gem from the bail and tossed the chain on the bed. Holding the Crystal in my cupped hands, I prayed that what I had in mind would work and brought it closer to my chest. When it touched the armor, the Crystal became embedded in it, shining even brighter for a few seconds.
I refused to look at myself in the mirror. I knew exactly how dark and terrifying and powerful my appearance was.
How much I looked like Mornon that day from a thousand years ago.
The first light of sunrise illuminated the sky beyond the glass ceiling, and I left my room.
* * *
When I entered the armory with the adjoining forge, the blacksmiths jolted in unison, stopping with their instruments in midair. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stoically held their shocked stares until, embarrassed by their own reaction, they returned to work.
I headed to the wall where the swords and daggers forged for me, my father, and Araton were displayed.
Two swords, a pair of daggers, and one dagger were absent.
I suppressed my emotions and swiftly fastened my belt with the sword scabbard on my left and the dagger scabbard on my right.
After selecting the blades to fit into these, I proceeded to the elaborate two-tiered stables.
The stalls were empty, except for Ringil and my mother’s horse. As soon as she saw me approaching, my black mare became agitated. I didn’t blame her: Without my white armor and golden cloak, and with my eyes marked by the darkness, I must look like a monster to her.
“It’s me,” I tried to reassure her, but the mare kept rearing, neighing, blowing like a dragon from her flared nostrils, and circling the large stable to charge at the door and try to bite me.
I was about to yell at her that I didn’t have time for her scene. I was about to beg her to calm down and accept my new look. I was about to collapse in the middle of the corridor.
But a neigh, deep and as powerful as thunder, echoed across the square in front of the stables.
There, a mighty white horse, harnessless, lifted slightly on his hind legs, his neck arched so much that his dark gray chin touched its chest. Although I had only seen him once during his parade through a crowd of beasts and demons, I recognized him immediately.
He was Mornon’s stallion.
And he was here to bring me to his master.
Ringil started kicking the stable door wildly with her knee to get my attention, neighing in despair as the latch rattled with each strike.
I closed my eyes with a suffering face. “Goodbye, my friend,” I murmured.
Ringil called me even more, breaking my heart as I advanced toward the stallion without ever glancing back.
The horse was so skittish that managing to grab a fistful of his long mane, avoiding a pounder, was more difficult than expected.
I got on his back with an athletic leap, leaning forward as he reared.
Then, without needing to kick his sides, the stallion set off at a hard gallop. And in an instant, the beautiful Aegel, my home, disappeared behind me.