Chapter 70 #3
Dristan didn’t hate Descended. He didn’t hate anyone. He was the kind of boy who tucked flowers in my hair and told me that my strange grey eyes were pretty.
I staggered back, my body repelled by what I was asking it to do. I scrambled for the numbness of moments ago.
“He’s already dead,” I told myself.
Then he blinked—a reminder that he was very much alive.
My knees buckled, and I sank to the ground. I bent over and retched, my insides trying to expel the poison of what I’d done and still had to do.
“You should be grateful.”
I fell backward at the sound of an ancient, masculine timbre. Dristan stared down at me, but when he spoke, it was with Ophiucae’s voice.
“These men were going to kill you, daughter. Their minds were full of schemes to get around my protection.”
I climbed to my feet, hands trembling. “Don’t try to tell me you did this for me. I didn’t want them dead.”
“You wanted me to stop them from killing Descended.” He smirked. “I compromised.”
It had always been a matter of time before Ophiucae and Vance’s tenuous alliance imploded. It was never in question which of them would survive it, but that gave me little comfort at the role I’d played in their demise.
Dristan’s gaze drifted to Luther with a murderous glare that made my blood run cold. “It took me quite a while to repair the head your mate chopped off.”
I raised the point of Sorrow’s Edge. “If you try to hurt him—”
Dristan chuckled—not the happy, boisterous laugh of the boy I’d known, but the ominous snicker of my sire.
“Don’t worry. All that time gave me a chance to think on what you’d said, and I realized you were right.
My anger caused me to lose my way. Revenge is the concern of simple, powerless men. I have loftier goals.”
Thunder sounded in the distance—odd, given the cloudless late afternoon sky. The wind was still, the air dry and hot, showing no sign of an approaching summer storm.
Dristan waved a hand, and Ophiucae’s ten-pointed Crown shimmered over his head.
“These Crowns of ours have brought so much destruction. Perhaps it’s time to let them go.
” It began to splinter with glowing cracks.
“A fresh start—isn’t that what you said you wanted?
” Fragments crumbled and fell to the soil.
“A chance to move forward.” His Crown deteriorated until there was nothing left of it but a small pile of ash at his feet.
He smiled, wide and knowing. “A blank slate, just like you asked.”
The faraway thunder rumbled again.
Louder.
Nearer.
“I spent centuries resenting this place. Even my own realm never truly felt like home. Then I met you—my daughter.” He raised his hand to my cheek. “How can this world not be my home when you are in it? For you, I will abandon this fight, and we can rewrite the blank slate anew.”
It was everything I’d longed to hear him say. He was giving up his vengeance and choosing love over hate, choosing me. If he could let go of the scars upon his soul, then so could I, and together, we could heal. My most vulnerable, most indestructible hope—a chance to save us both.
But if my mate had taught me anything, it was that some scars weren’t meant to heal. Some scars, we keep . . . to remind us how we got them, and to prove how much we could overcome.
“You speak of saving this place,” I said. “This continent. This world. But never of these people.” Though everything in me begged to look away, to not see the answers, I forced myself to hold his stare. “What did you do in Umbros, Ophiucae? Why have my messages to Arboros gone unanswered?”
The air around us seemed to chill in his silence, though my chest felt hotter than ever.
“I saw the Challenging in your mate’s memories,” he said. “You loved making the Descended bend to your will and kneel.” He leaned in close. “You may try to deny it, but you and I are the same. The fire that burns in you is one I lit.”
The heat inside me spiked, thrashing with an angry resolve.
“There is a darkness that binds us,” I agreed. “Things that are beautiful, too. When we care for someone, we care deeply. I see the light inside you, wishing the world had let it shine.”
I leaned back, heart slowly breaking as his hand slipped from my cheek and fell away. I saw in his eyes that he knew I’d finally made my choice.
“You’re making a grave mistake,” he warned.
“As long as you live, the people I love will never be safe. No one will.”
The approaching thunder was so loud now that it seemed to be one continuous roar. I tilted my face to the sky, letting the blood sun soak into my skin and feed the heat within me as I fought the tears that begged to fall.
“If you deny me, Diem, there will be a cost.”
My hands tightened on the handle of my sword.
“I know,” I whispered.
Sorrow’s Edge swung, and Dristan’s lifeless body hit the ground.
In the distance, a wobbly line took shape between the sky and the stony flatlands. I swiped the back of my hand across my glistening cheeks, then turned on my heel and strode toward my army.
“He’s coming,” I said loudly. “Everyone, prepare to fight.”