54. Archer
Archer
“You see?” I say, my voice hoarse. “When the realm needed me most, depended on me… I failed.”
I don’t want to look at Saige; I don’t want to see the disgust on her face. Were it not for me and my weaknesses, Malevron wouldn’t be a threat to her and her family. She would never have been dragged into this mess in the first place.
But Saige has fire unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She grips my jaw between her fingers and forces my gaze to hers. “It wasn’t your war alone then,” she cuts me off. “And it’s not yours alone now.”
“But—”
“No,” she says sharply. “Whatever reasoning you have is flawed, General. Malevron doesn’t just threaten you and the Azkari.
He threatens all life, all joy, all the light in this fucking realm.
You did all that you could back then. And it resulted in two hundred years of peace, centuries to regroup, to rebuild, to place ourselves in a position of strength.
You sacrificed your existence for that advantage. For Lorevael.”
“He’s back though.”
“Yes, he is. But so are you. Do you know what the return of the Black Flame will mean to people? What hope you’ll inspire in the face of evil?” Saige is still holding me in place, her molten silver eyes piercing mine right down into my soul.
“He’ll do it all over again.”
“We won’t let him,” she says fiercely, a mortal bookbinder with the heart of a warrior. “Nothing is a straight line, it’s a circle. You come back time and time again, understanding newer depths with each pass. We will learn, and we will defeat him.”
I shake my head in wonder at the woman before me. Where does she find her strength? Her empathy? How is it that she possesses more courage than the greatest Azkari army combined?
“I lied to you,” I say slowly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Why are you defending me? Why fight so hard for me?” I murmur, voice breaking. “Why?”
“Because no one ever has. Because you’re worth every effort, every struggle. You’re fucking worth it, Archer. I see you. If only you could look through my eyes.”
I cup her face in the palm of my hand, savoring the warmth of her skin, the flutter of her lashes against the tops of her cheeks. “Grayson…”
She steps back, out of my reach. “I’m not ready to forgive you, General—or should I call you Prince now?”
“Don’t,” the word comes out as a plea.
“Well.” Saige takes another step towards the door. “I may not be ready to forgive you, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer. You never did.”
Before I can answer, she leaves my chambers, taking a piece of me with her.
“We thought you were dead,” my uncle says from his seat at the war table. “I would never have dared sit upon that throne otherwise.”
The war room is far from full, but the courtiers in attendance are of the highest ranks in the Azkari circles, no doubt taking note of how our power struggle unfolds, ready to divulge the details to whomever enquires. As much as I detest it, what is said here and now matters.
I grip the armrests of my chair hard enough for the timber to groan, and I stare at my uncle who tries to justify his treason.
“I thought—”
“You thought what?” I cut him off, raising my voice just enough that any whispers fall silent.
“That my power would harmlessly drift back into the Weave upon my demise? Uncle, my fire, my very essence, is tied to Ignizar and the lava that flows within it. You know this.” I keep my words detached, even though I want nothing more than to tear Rhendorn limb from limb.
He’s a slimy bastard to be sure, but I’m also desperate for an outlet for the maelstrom within.
He bows his head. “Forgive me, nephew.”
“You forget yourself again, Rhendorn. I don’t take orders from you.
” My knuckles crack as my grip on the chair’s armrest intensifies.
I loosen my hold. I can’t leave scorch marks on the damn thing.
I search for Daemos in the smattering of faces around the table, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
I can hardly blame him. He has his own house to concern himself with.
“Sire,” one of Rhendorn’s minions, steps forward with a flourish in my direction. “Might we inquire after the presence of the mortals you brought with you? It’s most unprecedented… allowing humans access to the Azkari realms, let alone—”
The look of betrayal on Saige’s face flashes before me, and I feel it like a blow to the chest. What had I expected? The truth was always going to come out. I did that. I did that to her, to us. And yet there she stood in my chambers, pulling me back from the brink, telling me I am worth something.
Steeling myself, I pin the Azkari with a hard stare. “The mortals are here at my request. That’s all you need to know until our meeting of minds has gathered. For now, they are to be treated with the respect and courtesy we would afford any guests here.”
Quiet falls over the table once again, and my uncle takes full advantage. “Highness, perhaps the Azkari of this palace would feel more at ease with your return if you were to explain—"
My temper gets the better of me and onyx flames burst from my fingertips, causing several courtiers to leap back in fear, several more gasping dramatically. Before my return, the last time they saw my fire, it was as red as the fire of Ignizar. Now…
“I assure you, Uncle, I am exactly who you think I am,” I tell him, allowing my dark blaze to creep towards him across the table. “I fought against Malevron in the Reckoning as the Black Flame. I am the Black Flame as I sit here before you.”
He flinches at the proximity, but it doesn’t shut him up. “So you broke the rules of the High King and Queen? They forbade their sons to fight against—”
“I hope you’re not about to regale me with a lecture on rule breaking, Uncle, given your current position.” It takes every ounce of willpower in me not to burn the prick from the inside out. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“I am a prince of the Azkari realms, Uncle. I owe no explanations.”
“Of course not,” he replies easily. “I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.” I cut him off, standing up and looking past him to scan the rest of the war room. “Where is the commander of my army? Where is Bryneira?”
“Right here, Sire.” A female with a striking mane of vibrant copper-red hair worn with sections pulled back to reveal her strong features, the rest cascading in wild curls past her shoulders emerges from the crowd. “At your service, my prince.”
“I would speak to you alone.”
My revered commander bows before turning to the gathered throng.
“Clear the room.” She waits silently before me as the nobility do as she bids and I take the opportunity to look upon her for the first time in two full centuries.
She hasn’t changed. Her fair skin is abundantly dusted with cinnamon freckles that concentrate across her nose and cheekbones, extending down her neck and shoulders like constellations, her unusual maple brown eyes are unreadable as she remains standing by the door, ignoring the bustle of those exiting beside her.
When at last the final stragglers close the door behind them, Bryneira launches herself at me. We embrace hard.
“You absolute bastard,” she mutters onto my shoulder as she holds on tight. I can feel her tears dampening my shirt. I fight back tears of my own.
“I know. I’m sorry, Bryn,” I tell her.
She pulls back to study my features, tears lining her eyes as she takes in the faint scars, the signs of ageing. “What did he do to you?”
“Gravereach,” is all I manage.
“Gods,” she murmurs, shaking her head in horror. “For all this time?”
I clench my jaw, and dip my chin in confirmation.
“How did you get free?” she asks, squeezing my hand as she steps back to give me space.
“There’s a woman,” I croak.
Bryn raises her brow. “Oh?”
In the presence of a lifelong friend, the words spill from me unfiltered, chaotic and desperate.
“A mortal bookbinder—Saige Grayson. She was captured by Malevron’s minions and thrown into Gravereach as well.
Something about her undid whatever magic he was using to hold me prisoner.
We made a bargain and I freed us. We’ve been after the Confluence ever since.
She—I’m in love with her, Bryn. On the cusp of another war and I’m in fucking love.
” It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud and it hurts.
To know how I feel at last, only to know what I’ve done to hurt Saige.
“Besides the war, I don’t see the problem,” Bryn replies casually.
“She just found out who I am,” I say hoarsely.
There’s reproach in Bryn’s voice. “You didn’t tell her from the start?”
I shake my head. “No. It had been two centuries since someone had even laid eyes on me properly, since someone had seen me. I just… I just wanted to be… myself.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but being a prince is part of who you are.”
“Not even reunited for five minutes and you’re already lecturing me,” I mutter.
“Someone’s got to.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what, exactly?” she says. “The mortal you’re in love with or the fact that Malevron is back?”
“Both.”
“Figures. Good thing you’ve got me on your side then.”
“Have I? Got you on my side?” I ask.
Bryn scoffs. “You mean has your slimy, usurper uncle got his claws in me? The answer’s no. I wouldn’t follow that prick’s orders if my life depended on it.”
“You didn’t think I was dead?”
“No,” she replies. “But I knew it wasn’t good. I’ve never been gladder to see your ugly mug back in the throne room.”
I throw my arm around her shoulder and give her another hug. “Glad to see you too, Bryn. Now can you help me fix this mess, or what?”