Chapter 6
Chapter Six
ELARIYA
Sentenced to death…
The words struck me so deep, I couldn’t breathe. Then the world tilted and that damning word—death—echoed through my mind again and again and again, refusing to settle.
Death.
No…
Surely, I heard wrong.
He couldn’t be talking about killing Wolfe as though it were a reasonable solution.
As though he weren’t a person.
As though he weren’t my husband.
He was Wolfe.
My Wolfe.
Death?
Not imprisonment.
Not some kind of spell to bring him back or treatment.
Not hope.
Death.
I stared at Artemyss, certain I had most assuredly misheard him. There was no way he’d just recommended a sentence of death.
“Death is not the answer,” Bastian said, pushing to his feet.
“I believe it is.” Artemyss nodded with conviction and, to my absolute horror, the other magistrates followed suit. “Death is how we deal with threats to the kingdom.”
Merciless gods, this was really happening.
Something inside me snapped and I stood, too, but as I rose, a gust of wind blew out around me, lifting my hair and gown.
“No!” I cried. The word came out louder than I’d ever spoken and with a resounding echo that shook the walls.
All eyes turned to me. Arielle tried to hold my hand and calm me, but I ignored her.
“You will not kill him. That is my husband.” I pointed to Wolfe now. “He is the heir to the throne of this kingdom. You have no right.”
All my life, I’d followed orders and fell in line. I’d never raised my voice, never talked back to those in authority. Today, that changed.
I would not just sit here and do nothing while they sentenced Wolfe to death.
“Lady Nightblade, please sit. You—”
“No!”
“Elariya, please, stop.” Arielle tugged on my hand. Then she lowered her voice. “Please… control yourself.”
I glanced down at her and froze when I saw that my hand was glowing. Glowing the way they did when I cast a time spell. That had never happened before. But then I’d never been angrier and so distraught in my life.
I met Arielle’s gaze, and something else caught me off guard. It was her eyes. The fear blazing there and the silent warning—
Calm down. Don’t give them more.
I could almost hear the words as though she’d been shouting them at me.
I took a slow breath, and the glow subsided in my hand. No, hands. A quick glance to my left confirmed both of them had been glowing.
My gaze snapped back to Artemyss. Yes, I could control myself, but I still couldn’t allow this to happen.
“My Lord, please, don’t kill him. Give us a chance to make this right. Give us a chance to help him change back.” The quiver in my voice betrayed the courage I’d just showed. “With more time, we could find a way.”
I just needed to get the ring.
Artemyss stared back at me. I expected chastisement in his expression for my outburst, but I saw a spark of compassion in his eyes. He was the first person outside our little fold to show me anything close. But it didn’t mean he was going to change his mind.
“Lady Nightblade, my heart goes out to you.” He held my gaze. “I know this cannot be easy for you. But it must be done.”
“Why? This is the magical realm. There must be an answer.”
“This is the answer. And if Lord Nightblade were here, he’d agree to it.” He switched his focus to Alaric. “Pray tell, Alaric Nightblade. No one knows your brother more than you. Do you disagree with me?”
He focused on Alaric, who sat straighter. Eons might have passed in the stretched moments I waited for his answer, and when Alaric dropped his head and shook it, my heart shattered.
Inside, I broke everywhere.
He met my gaze and we looked at each other. Deep in his eyes I saw grief, helplessness, and a silent apology. Then his expression hardened, and as he looked away, time subdued around me.
“Wolfe Nightblade is a threat to the entire realm.” Artemyss’ voice filled the room, loud and weighted.
He wasn’t looking at us anymore. His gaze shifted from Wolfe to the spectators in the room.
“He has become an abomination and must be eliminated. We have to accept that we cannot save him. He is now a harbinger of death. For that reason, along with the murder of Dreynthor Nightblade, I hereby sentence him to death by dissolvement at midday on Monday next week.”
Oh, Blessed Mother, this was… it was beyond cruel.
How could this be happening?
My eyes drifted back to Wolfe floating in the cage, and weakness hollowed out my insides, turning my stomach to thin ice.
“I will allow Wolfe Nightblade’s family and friends to see him for ten minutes after we adjourn,” Artemyss continued, his voice stern. “Case closed.”
He slammed a gavel down against an invisible block, the crack splitting through the uproar in my soul.
My legs gave, the weakness finally consuming me, and suddenly, I was falling.
Someone caught me.
I looked up.
Alaric.
I never even saw him get up.
With his arm around me, he held my gaze with that same sad look, but I couldn’t see past the fact that he’d just agreed with them. Agreed that Wolfe should die.
“How could you?” The words rattled in my chest like a loose coin dropped into an empty barrel. “You’re his brother.”
“It was his last wish,” Alaric muttered, almost whispering. “He made me promise to end him if things got this bad. I was to take care of you and stop him from becoming his curse.”
Gods…
I couldn’t do this.
Kaem stepped forward and placed a hand at my cheek. “Come, child. We must remain strong. He wouldn’t want you to fall apart.”
I looked behind me just as the officiant cast a spell and Wolfe’s cage
disappeared, taking him away from me again.
Bastian rejoined us and people began filing out. I was surprised that some came up to us to offer their condolences.
Fuck… condolences. As though Wolfe were already dead.
The officiant came up to us and stopped right in front of me. “I will take you to the observation room. There, you can say your goodbyes properly.” He sounded like he was doing me a favor. In the grand scheme of things, I supposed he was.
I cast a final look at Artemyss. He and the other magistrates were already watching me.
Alaric and Kaem helped me move, breaking the moment.
I focused ahead, my mind spinning.
The officiant took us back out into the hallway and guided us into another room that lacked feeling. Wolfe’s cage was in the center.
“You have ten minutes,” the officiant grated out, then left, closing the door behind him with a sharp click.
“Come,” Alaric said, keeping his grip steady around me.
The others lagged behind as we moved to the cage. My strength returned somewhat and my steps became steadier. If ten minutes was all I had, I wouldn’t waste it in weakness.
We stopped before Wolfe, and he moved, too, right up to the glass. I searched for his face in the mass of darkness but found nothing, just more darkness amongst the shadow. Pitch black against ebony.
Was there truly nothing of him there?
I couldn’t accept it.
There was so much to Wolfe Nightblade. So much life, so much passion, so much to love. How could it all be gone?
How could we end like this?
I was his tracker. I was supposed to help him find the ring so this wouldn’t happen.
But I was too late. Just too damn late.
Alaric and Kaem released me and stepped back to give me some space. When I pressed my hand against the glass, Wolfe howled in that hollow, eerie tone.
“I’m so sorry. Wolfe, I’m so, so sorry.” I could barely get the words out without my breath catching.
He howled even more, and I didn’t know if that was because he could understand me, or if that was the Deathwalker reacting.
It didn’t matter. I’d take whatever I could get. The good and the bad.
As I gazed back at him, I remembered that thing we used to say to each other when I was worried about forgetting him. Maybe if there was some part of him left, he’d understand.
It started like this:
He'd say, You will remember me. I'd follow with, I will remember you.
“I remember you,” I said with fervency. I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “I will always remember you.” I said nothing more, careful not to reveal too much.
The words barely left my mouth before Wolfe froze. The shadows surrounding him stilled, and I prayed he understood what I meant—that I'd found the ring. That there was still hope for him. Still hope for us.
He threw back his head and wailed louder than ever. The sound tore through the chamber, rattling the glass and shaking the walls. Darkness exploded outward from his body in violent waves, slamming against the cage.
"Wolfe!" Bastian cried, stepping closer.
The shadows churned wildly. Smoke and ebony twisted around him as though the curse itself had been disturbed, then something changed.
The right side of his face emerged, bright blue eyes blazing. I gasped and my heart stopped beating.
A breath later, pale skin pushed through the darkness, replacing shadow. The familiar shape of him filled out. His neck, his chest, and that long, wild hair.
But that was it—just enough.
Wolfe’s left side remained trapped beneath the curse, skeletal and ghostly, concealing his lower body. Locked between life and death.
But it was him. All was not lost, and there was still a part of him there that could be saved.
A sob escaped me, and I brought my hands to my cheeks, gazing back as hope filled my heart.
Everyone gathered closer, stunned.
More shadows peeled away as Wolfe pressed his hand against the glass. I put mine back, framing his.
His throat worked, and he gazed at me as if I was the only thing in his world worth focusing on. “Ziyka.”
Gods. I thought I’d never hear him say that again.
“Wolfe,” I rasped, the tears I’d been holding back streaming down my cheeks.
"You’ll remember me always?"
"Yes." I pressed my hand closer.
His eyes shone with hope. He understood everything I couldn't say aloud. He pressed his other hand to the glass, framing my face. “Oh Ziyka. I love you. I—"
Darkness swept back over him, like a vicious wave in a tempest, swallowing him up. His eyes widened in raw panic and he pulled back.
“No. Stay with me!” I slammed against the cage. “Don’t. Please stay with me.”
What remained of his face turned away and focused on Alaric.
“I… didn’t kill Dreynthor.” The broken words shook out of him. “I was… set up. He was dead when I… got there. Zyrra.”
The shadows took over again, strangling his last word.
But we’d all heard it, and everything else he said.
The Deathwalker returned in full force and bashed against the glass, gnashing and wailing, the sound and energy shaking the room.
Merciless gods, Wolfe was innocent.
But he was still trapped.
The door behind us opened and the officiant walked back inside.
“Time’s up,” he said.
Gods. Hope had only just returned and in the same breath, it was being taken away.