Chapter 48 Betrayal
Betrayal
The instant those strange, glowing blue eyes met mine, my fear vanished. It was replaced by a deep, clawing sense of longing, so intense that I even forgot my pain.
In those mesmerizing blue eyes I saw such beauty that it stole my breath away. It was as if I was looking through the creature’s twisted body and seeing its true form beneath—and it was breathtaking. So wondrous and intoxicating that everything else paled in comparison.
The vulgen drew back, giving me the space to move, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it as I sat up. It made a soft sound in its animal throat, sweet as music.
What was I so worried about? I wondered as I extended my hand towards it.
I could feel fear and anxiety and distress brushing at the back of my mind, like whispers in the distance, but I couldn’t remember what had inspired them in the first place.
They seemed so silly, so absurd now with such beauty in front of me.
The longing had become a yawning ache in my chest, a hunger that sprouted from my very bones.
In front of me stood a creature that could have been crafted from the very spirit of these woods, this land—made of dancing wind and forest streams and ancient trees, elegant and wild.
When my fingers brushed against it, I felt another layer of my fears melt away, like the creature was peeling away all the bad parts of me and leaving only the good.
In this blessed being’s eyes, I was beautiful and pure and flawless—there were no struggles, no shame, no worries within or without.
There was only calm, and wonder, and a sense of ease I hadn’t known in as long as I could remember.
My fingers combed through the creature’s hair, and I marveled at the warmth, the softness.
But it wasn’t enough. That longing inside me stretched and ached, begging for more.
I wanted to run both my hands down the creature, to tangle myself in that wildness, to surround myself with the wind and the streams and all the glorious threads of the land that made up this perfect, beautiful being and—
Hot blood splattered across my face, and those otherworldly blue eyes went suddenly dark.
The vulgen fell to the side, its neck sliced cleanly through. I watched its body slump to the earth beside me as all those strange, wondrous feelings—the longing and the peace and the blissful sense that everything was right in the world—faded away.
In a matter of seconds, everything else—the fear and anxiety and horrible, unbearable pain—rushed to fill its place.
My stomach lurched, and I curled over, dry heaving. My skull was pounding so badly that I couldn’t even see straight, and—
“Close your eyes,” Alastor commanded. He grabbed me by the arm and hauled me up to my feet, and I was too sick to argue, or do more than wince at the pain of his touch.
Closing my eyes helped with the dizziness, but it didn’t stop the nausea.
Or the shiver. My skin felt like it was on fire, burning off—
Go beneath it, I reminded myself with the shreds of thought that remained. Find that other piece of yourself.
It was harder now, even though I’d done it before. My body was shaking, my stomach churning, my thoughts barely holding together.
But there it was, right where I’d left it. The piece of me that belonged to my world. If I could just figure out how to draw it out, or connect it back to home—
Another chorus of howls sounded from somewhere far too close, breaking my concentration. I whimpered—from fear, from frustration, from the utter hopelessness of it all—
“Don’t open your eyes for anything.” Alastor said from beside me. “I won’t let them reach you.”
He didn’t say what I knew we were both thinking—that one of them had managed to slip past him already. But I couldn’t think about that. I had to concentrate.
The shiver on my skin spiked, and I bit down on my tongue to keep from crying out. I was losing my grip on the part of me beneath the essence, under the pain. If I couldn’t break through the agony, I was lost.
Even with my hands clapped over my ears once more, I could hear the vulgen. Hear Alastor grunting and swinging his sword. Hear yelps of pain and bodies slumping to the ground.
Damn it, Marigold. Get your shit together and just do this. This is your chance to stop being so freaking useless. I could feel both parts of me now—the part from home, and the part from Therador.
But another, fresh spike of shiver shattered my concentration again. Something wasn’t right. This was like the surge of essence I’d felt from Laitha. Or Mordren—
“Alastor,” I choked out amid the pain. “I think one of the Circle—”
I didn’t even finish that thought before someone grabbed me.
I screamed, kicking and writhing as I was lifted and thrown over a shoulder. I pounded against their back with my fists, my boot aiming for their ribs, and—
“Marigold,” Alastor grunted. “Curse it, Marigold, it’s me! Stop that!”
Oh.
He was moving now, almost running, and though I couldn’t hear the vulgen anymore, I didn’t trust that they were gone.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he ordered as if he could read my thoughts.
He didn’t need to tell me twice. The pain was overwhelming me again, tangling with the panic that had taken root inside me, and I didn’t have the strength to argue. Or to ask who—or what—had spooked Alastor enough to make him stop fighting and run.
I turned inward, reaching for the two parts of me, desperately trying to fit them together in whatever way they required to create a bridge back home.
Home. I thought of my apartment, small but cozy. With my hand-me-down furniture and row of cheerful little succulents along the windowsill.
Alastor stopped abruptly.
There. I couldn’t say what I did, or how, but suddenly I felt something shift inside me. Suddenly the pain fell away.
I couldn’t help myself. I opened my eyes.
And there, right beside us, was a glowing orb of golden light. Slowly, it spun and stretched, growing larger little by little.
Hurried footsteps crashed through the trees behind us. Alastor twisted around—swinging me with him—and pointed his sword at the huge, approaching form. Somewhere in the other direction, I could hear more of the vulgen. We’d bought ourselves a little time, but they were still in pursuit.
I turned my head back toward the portal. It wasn’t yet big enough for us to jump through. If we couldn’t get through it in time—
“What the hell is going on?” roared a deep, rumbling voice I knew too well.
I jerked my head back around, twisting myself just in time to see the huge figure of Octavian emerge from the trees.
And he looked furious.
“What have you done?” he demanded.
I opened my mouth to defend myself—but then I realized his glare was directed at his brother.
“We need to get her out of here,” Alastor said.
“So you sneaked her out of the town without telling me?” Octavian’s eyes flashed brutally as he shook his head. “No, Brother, I know what you’re really doing.”
Alastor’s grip tightened around my waist. His voice was steady but hard as steel as he said. “Oak. Look at me. Rad and I are trying to help her.”
“I don’t see Rad anywhere.” Octavian advanced, and for the first time I noticed the way he held his sword—like he was bracing for a fight, like he was ready to cut down his brother if he had too.
“Octavian!” I said desperately. “Wait—he’s telling the truth!”
Octavian’s gaze shifted to my face. He looked so strange in the silvery moonlight—not warm and charming like the man who’d been preening for his admirers in Ring-Around-the-Hill, but almost feral.
“I need to go home,” I said quickly, while I had his attention. “Before anyone else is hurt on my behalf. Look—I’ve just opened a bridge.” A bit awkwardly due to my position, I pointed toward the glowing circle of light behind us, which was now nearly two feet wide.
Alastor stepped aside so his brother had an unobstructed view of the portal. Octavian studied it for a few seconds before turning his attention back to me.
There was no anger in his eyes now. Only betrayal.
Because I didn’t tell him I was going, I realized.
It had seemed easier, when we left, to skip the farewell with Octavian, but knowing what I knew about his past—how the love of his life had disappeared without a word, how the sudden, unexpected loss of her had broken him—I saw now how heartless my decision had been.
Even if he couldn’t remember Esmerine, Octavian still carried the pain of her deep in his heart, and I’d just gouged that wound wide open again.
“Put me down,” I murmured to Alastor.
Without a word, Alastor gently deposited me on the ground. But he remained stiff, guarded, as if he didn’t quite trust his brother’s next move. Or mine.
In the distance, one of the vulgen let out a keening howl, and my neck prickled. We didn’t have much time.
I stepped over to Octavian as steadily and confidently as I could manage. And then I reached up and gently placed my hand against his cheek.
He flinched, almost as if my touch caused him physical pain, but he didn’t pull away.
“I won’t let anyone else die for me,” I told him firmly. “I need to put myself beyond the Circle’s reach. Now—before anyone else is hurt.”
This, he understood. I saw it in his eyes—saw it slice through the betrayal swirling in those azure depths and cut right down to the core beneath.
He understood my pain, my burden. It was the same thing that made him so protective of me, that made him subconsciously hold onto his guilt over Esmerine—the shame that came from being responsible for another’s death. His hero’s heart couldn’t bear it.
“This won’t be the last time we see each other.” It was a promise as much to myself as it was to him. Slowly, I pushed up on my toes and brushed a kiss against his lips. He remained uncharacteristically stiff, almost as if he didn’t trust himself to move.
As I lowered myself back down on my heels, my skin prickled again. Another huge spike of essence was flaring somewhere in the woods—too close for comfort. Octavian must have felt it too, because he finally moved.
“Someone’s near,” he rumbled, suddenly the warrior once more. He scanned the trees on all sides before his eyes snapped to Alastor. “If it’s Mordren—”
“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Alastor interrupted. “Marigold will be gone by the time they reach us.”
Octavian didn’t answer. But I could see the question in his eyes—even now, part of him still wondered if his brother had intended to take Mordren’s bargain.
“I came here of my own free will,” I told Octavian. “To make a bridge and go home. Before that, I offered to give myself to Mordren so that one of you might get your powers back, but both your brothers refused to even consider it.”
Surprise flashed in Octavian’s eyes, but his shoulders loosened.
The golden orb of light was larger now, almost big enough for me to squeeze through. I could feel its insistent tug on my skin, calling me home.
I glanced back at the brothers. Both were watching me, despite the ever-nearing howls of the vulgen.
“If Radven—” I cut myself off, not even wanting to suggest the possibility that he’d fallen. “Tell Radven goodbye for me. And—”
There was another huge surge of essence, much closer than before. Even Octavian jumped.
“Go. Now,” he told me. To his brother, he said, “We need to lead them away from here. Buy her some time to get through and close the bridge from the other side.”
Now that this was happening, it all felt too quick. Alastor turned back to me, pressing the Safarian pearls into my hand. I started to protest, but he gave a sharp shake of his head.
“You might need them,” was all he said.
I hadn’t noticed until this moment, but there was still a flower petal tangled in his dark hair, a remnant from the circle of blossoms I’d put on his head hours ago. I reached up and plucked it out.
“Looks like you still have a piece of your crown,” I said with a sad smile, placing it in his palm. “You should keep it safe.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t clap back with something surly. He just looked at me with those dark, unreadable eyes and said, in his usual flat tone, “Take care of yourself, Marigold.”
“We need to go.” Octavian was on high alert, but when his eyes met mine again, something flashed in them.
In a single stride, he was in front of me. Grabbing me. His lips crashed down on mine in one desperate, final kiss that stole the breath from me.
But it ended as abruptly as it began. When he pulled back, his eyes burned into mine.
“This isn’t forever,” I reminded him again—but I could already feel the lump rising in my throat. There was a terrible finality to this, a sense that when I crossed the bridge this time, it wouldn’t be so easy to find my way back.
I can’t think like that, I told myself. I had to believe I would see these brothers again. That this wasn’t the end.
A loud crack! cut through the air, at the same moment I felt another spike of essence, and even with the pearls now clutched in my hand I knew this was bad. If Mordren had come for me—
I didn’t get the chance to finish that thought. Octavian shoved me—hard—through the portal, and I was swallowed by golden light.