Chapter 53
DIEM
Ophiucae kept his vigil through the night. I waited it out with my back to the grasslands, unable to watch, wondering if he would heed my plea. When his gryvern erupted in an ear-splitting roar and flew off toward Umbros, I feared I had my answer.
Doriel pelted me with questions. It was hard to say whether my refusal to answer was fueled by shame or loyalty to Ophiucae, but Doriel was quick to assume the latter. They moved as far away from me as they could get, their narrowed eyes flitting between me and my sire.
My mind made up for the quiet by fixating on every word Ophiucae had spoken and what each one had meant.
Remembering the resentment in his voice when he spoke of my mother, and remembering the hurt in his eyes when he spoke of his.
Knowing my compass was hidden in his pocket. Knowing its arrow pointed to me.
There was a heart inside him. I was sure of it. I’d seen it. His mother had seen it, too. She’d spared his life and left a stitch in her spell that gave him freedom for opening his heart to another. She’d believed in the power of love, and so did I.
Love could inspire anyone. It could heal them. Give them strength.
But could it change them?
Or were there parts of us so fundamental, even the strongest love could never wipe them away?
“You. Stand up.”
I looked up to see a cloaked figure standing at the door, his face concealed in shadows. Two mortal men were at his side, one carrying a lantern.
The man in the cloak gestured to me. “Come with us.”
My heart leapt. Maybe I’d gotten through to Ophiucae after all. I climbed to my feet and rushed to the door, my enthusiasm earning Doriel’s accusatory glare. The hooded figure quickly shuffled back as I emerged from the cell, and all three of them raised a weapon in threat.
The leader pulled a pair of shackles from under his cloak. “Turn around.”
I obeyed, flinching at the cold bite of iron as he bound my wrists behind my back. The man with the key turned to lock the door, and the hooded figure snatched it from his hand.
The two other men poked me with their weapons to get me walking.
I started toward Ophiucae out in the grasslands, but they prodded me toward the library instead, and my insides tumbled and tied.
If Ophiucae wanted to stop what he was doing to meet me there, that was either a very good sign or a very, very bad one.
We mounted the library steps to see the front entrance sealed with a glimmering shield. “Side door,” the cloaked figure growled.
I craned my neck at their shadowed face. Their voice sounded strange, almost forced. “Who are you? What’s going on?”
He grabbed a crossbow out of the hands of one of the men and pointed it at me. “Quit talking and go.”
The two other men grabbed me by the arms and dragged me around the building’s side. With the lights that once illuminated Sophos City smashed and ruined, the area was fully draped in darkness. The hooded figure turned to the man with the lantern. “Leave it. Can’t risk being seen.”
Hair rose on my nape. I tried to pull away, only to be shoved into the wall and pinned in place while they dimmed the lantern and hid it behind a large stone.
“Are you sure the new guy can do it?” one man asked.
“Yes,” the cloaked man said. “He just arrived. We have to move fast, before the Descended bastard gets in his head like he did to us.”
The alarm bells in my head rose to a deafening clamor. Ophiucae’s compulsion kept the mortals from killing me, but if there was someone new that he’d not yet had the chance to control . . .
I fought against their grip, shouting for help, and a gauze-wrapped hand clamped across my mouth. “You don’t want to do that,” the cloaked figure murmured. The strange affect to their voice had vanished, leaving a low, familiar tone beneath.
Henri.
I ripped my face from his grip, overwhelmed with rage that I’d spared him from execution only to have him spearhead mine. “Fuck you,” I hissed. “I hope the Old Gods give you the end you deserve.”
“I hope the same for you,” he mumbled. He grabbed my arm and yanked me beside him as he walked. “Maybe they’ll answer both our prayers.”
After all he’d done, I was a fool to be surprised, but my mind could not accept how hateful he’d become.
Growing up in Mortal City, I’d struggled to grow close to anyone.
Friendships stayed shallow, lovers were never more than sex.
Even with the other healers, though we were cordial, there was a persistent distance no one could explain.
But not with Henri. My grey eyes and white hair hadn’t spooked him. What others saw in me as rash, he found exciting and brave. We shared all the same dreams of adventure, indulged in all the same sins. He was by my side for every harebrained plot, his crooked grin always egging me on.
He, and he alone, had never cared what made me different. And now he, and he alone, knew the full truth of everything I was fighting to save—which was why it hurt so very badly to see him stand so determinedly in my way.
“Don’t do this,” I begged him. “I told you what happens to the world if I fail.”
“Yeah,” one of the other men snorted. “We’ll finally be free of the Crowns.”
I kept my pleading gaze on Henri. “It won’t stop there. We hate each other, but we both know it’s true. It won’t just be the Descended who suffer.”
“Stop talking,” he snapped. He slowed to a stop and kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to kneel.
“You don’t have to kill me. Please, Henri, you know I’m already going to die when—”
“Quiet,” he growled.
One of the other men gave him a curious look. “Brother . . . how does she know your name?”
Henri ignored the question and pointed north. “Look, there he is. It’s time.”
A few hundred yards away, two hooded figures emerged from a thicket along the city’s northern edge. One carried a massive broadsword, the other a bow.
The man beside me tensed. “I thought you said it would only be one.”
“It was only supposed to be one,” Henri muttered. He pulled down his hood and walked out of the shadows and into the moonlight. He let out a low, quiet whistle that was almost lost among the evening crickets’ songs. A moment later, a whistle rang back.
Henri turned back to the man who’d questioned him. “Go stand by the library and keep an eye out for the night patrol.”
The man didn’t move.
“Hold on, you’re Henri from Lumnos?” the other one said. “I’ve heard about you. You’re supposed to be in Umbros. Heard Father Vance made you go with him ’cause he didn’t trust you here.”
Henri shrugged. “I snuck away and stayed behind. I’ve gotta prove myself to Vance. Killing her is how I do it.”
The emptiness of his stare sent my skin prickling. There was not even a flame of hatred or spark of resentment, certainly no sign of conflict or regret. He was a lightless pile of ashes, the remnants of something that had been set ablaze, then thrown away.
I couldn’t afford to mourn his loss. My chance to escape was dwindling fast.
“He’s lying,” I blurted out. “He’s tricking you into disobeying Ophiucae. He’s going to prove himself by turning you in.”
The men looked at me, then looked at Henri, who shook his head. “Don’t listen to her.”
“You little snake,” one man snarled at him. “You betrayed us.”
“He does that a lot,” I muttered.
“She’s a Descended,” Henri insisted. “All they speak are lies.”
“He’s already seen our faces,” the other man said. “Ophiucae could read his memories and see them, too.”
“Not if we kill him first,” the one beside me growled.
I held still and prayed to be forgotten as the men advanced on Henri. It’s his life or mine, I told my churning conscience. I owe him nothing. He would do the same to me.
They were the same claims I’d heard from countless mortals who had thrown a neighbor to the Descended wolves to save themselves.
That was the Crowns’ favorite game, keeping us too busy to unite against them by encouraging us to fight each other.
And though my reasons for sacrificing Henri weren’t wrong, nothing about it felt right.
I looked around, searching for an escape. North held two hooded figures who’d come to kill me. West was the city, teeming with angry men that Vance had left behind. East led to a sea my shackled arms couldn’t swim. And south . . .
South was Ophiucae.
I turned to the glowing form in the distance, and I ran.
“D, stop!” Henri shouted.
The use of my nickname, an endearment he no longer had any right to use, reignited my temper. The anger fueled me forward, though with the ground concealed in shadow, it was an effort to stay upright.
“Ophiucae, help me!” I screamed.
“You go shut her up,” a man snapped. “I’ll get rid of him.”
My conscience felt like a dragging anchor. He deserves this, I repeated in my head. Let him go, and don’t look back. But at the sounds of struggle behind me, I couldn’t keep my head from turning.
The regret was instant. I caught a flash of moonlight on a nearby blade, and as I jumped away, the heel of my boot clipped something in the dark and sent me sprawling.
A hand fumbled over my calf, and I flailed my legs in a frenzy.
My boot connected with soft flesh, drawing a grunt of pain and a swear.
“Ophiucae!” I screamed. “Ophiu—” A hand closed over my mouth as a body crushed down on top of me.
My training with my father had never prepared me for a fight like this.
This wasn’t bladesmanship and strategic footwork, this was a primal, messy brawl to survive.
Arms bound and blinded by the darkness, I thrashed like a feral cat, slamming us both against every solid object within reach.
We rolled into a patch of light streaming from a library window, and my heart stopped as my pursuer’s blade came swinging—then stopped an inch from my face.
“Fuck!” he snarled.
A laugh of shocked relief bubbled out of me. “You can’t hurt me,” I cried, remembering Ophiucae’s order.
But I could hurt him.
I whipped forward and cracked my skull against his.
Stars shimmered in my vision, and the man crumpled to the ground.
I fought through the glittering pain and managed to climb to my feet.
The sounds of fighting from Henri’s direction had gone unnervingly silent.
In the north, the two hooded figures spotted me in the light and began running toward me.
I turned toward Ophiucae—and crashed immediately into a wall of flesh.
“If you’re going back to Ophiucae, you’ll have to kill me first.” Henri’s voice was flat, with the posture to match. He’d replaced his crossbow with a knife—and fresh blood was dripping from its blade.
“Gladly,” I spat. “I should have never let you live. You don’t deserve it. Your mother would be ashamed of what you’ve become.” A low, vicious blow, but it was the only weapon I had.
“I’ve known that for a while,” he said blandly. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. What you deserve.”
Hurt surged through me, mixing with frustrated wrath. Why had I ever cared about him? He wasn’t even human anymore—a beast. Lower than a beast. A thing.
“Ophiucae’s going to kill you,” I hissed. “If he doesn’t, Luther will. I hope they make it slow. I hope they give you time to think about how you’ve done nothing but hurt everyone who loved you. I hope your last thought is what a waste your life has been.”
He let out a slow sigh. “Diem, turn around.”
“Freeze in hell.” I pushed off my heel and barreled toward him, but Henri had sparred with me a thousand times, and he was ready for my tricks.
He dropped to his knees, and I went tumbling over him and planted face-first into the ground.
A second later, his knee was on my back, pinning me in place.
I heard the clink of metal, and I bucked and flailed as Henri fought to keep me down.
He got a hand around my shackles, yanking them toward him, and by some miracle, one of my arms slipped out of the bindings.
Adrenaline surged at my stroke of luck. With my arms free, the desolate eastern expanse looked a lot more inviting. If I could make it to the sea, I could swim to safety. I might even make it back to Lumnos. One last chance to see my mate.
The brilliant, sunny hope of that prospect was blinding. I could think of nothing else—not even what leaving here might cost me.
It was hope that gave me the strength to rip out of Henri’s grasp. Hope had me fighting to flip him off me. Hope lit my way in the dark as I rose to my knees.
But a different emotion made me reach for his knife. And when I brought the knife swinging at his chest with a soul-cracking scream, the only thing left in me was hate.
Two arms closed around my waist from behind, dragging me away before my blade could find its target. My back slammed against something warm and solid as a gravelly voice murmured in my ear.
“Not yet, my heart. We might still need him.”