Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Traditional nish thatsha betrothal vow:
All I have, body, mind, and soul, is yours.
MALACH
It’s been three days since I’ve seen anyone. Alone in the square white room, I’m talking to the walls. My injuries have mostly healed, and I’m not in pain, but without it, I find myself dwelling on every misstep I’ve ever made.
A key turns in the lock, and Lyklan steps inside, glancing over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. “You must be more careful.”
I clear my throat. “I am,” I mutter. “Careful, that is.”
“Not careful enough. Elodius made a move against S’lach today. His very vocal opposition swung six votes, and the tax increase on the lower echelons barely passed.”
My heart skips a beat. “This is a good thing, Lyklan, or are you forgetting the entire reason I’m cooperating to begin with?”
“You’re too bold.” He squats in front of me, his blue eyes wide. “It was too soon to misdirect him. He’s furious. Gods, I fear what he’ll do to you when he returns from the thatsha summit.”
“He hasn’t returned yet?”
Lyklan shakes his head. “Tomorrow. His rage will have an extra day to fester.”
I don’t fear S’lach’s torment, only failing my mission, but if my body and mind are too broken to finish what I started, I won’t be the only one to suffer.
“He could kill me.”
“He could kill you,” Lyklan repeats.
I’m not ready to die. Celine deserves the truth first.
When I decided to lie to her, my only priority was her safety, but now I’ve had time to think. I don’t want her to go the rest of her life believing she was imagining things.
My love for her was real. If I can’t have her in this life, maybe I can ensure she doesn’t hate me in the next.
“ . . . you aren’t taking this seriously!”
I blink as Lyklan’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I hadn’t intended to tune him out, but I’ve become so used to my own company I didn’t realize it was happening. “There’s something I need from you,” I interrupt his lecture.
Lyklan blinks, his shoulders creeping higher. He’s going to say no. I can already tell. He might put himself at risk for me, but his family comes first, and I can’t even fault him for that.
“What do you need?” His voice is strained in a way I’ve rarely heard. This mission isn’t only taking a toll on me.
“My journal,” I murmur. “I hid it before traveling to the Fringes—”
“I know,” he interrupts me. “I removed it from your lodging in case S’lach had it searched. I’ve kept it safe for you.”
“You knew of my journal?”
“Of course. I also know it’s blank.”
“Not for long,” I sigh. “Bring it to me, and tomorrow, before S’lach returns, come and get it. I need you to deliver it to her if the worst happens.”
“You believe she’ll come for you?” His blue eyes sharpen. “Why did you demand I lock her out?”
“To protect her,” I hiss. “I hope she never finds a way to return.”
“Then why contact her at all?” Lyklan frowns, and his wings rustle with agitation.
“Since when do I need to explain my correspondence to you?” I hold his furious stare with one of my own.
“Your love for her,” he says. “It’s blind, Malach. You’ve dedicated your life to Celine, and now you fight her battles on your own. I can only hope you don’t die the same way.”
He leaves my room, only returning to drop off my journal and something to write with.
Then I’m alone again in the white room with walls that close in more by the minute. Since Celine knows I’m involved with her father now, the full power of his silence rune is gone. I should be able to tell her what happened.
I can do this. I can give her this closure, even if it hurts.
Fingers clenched, I write. Each sentence is a contest between my will and S’lach’s. My hand trembles, the ink runs, and my brain is attacked from all sides. But I fight it, pushing past the pain and rewording things until I can get them on the page.
I write until my hand cramps and my eyes cross, refusing to stop until I’ve filled every inch of available space. The urgency to explain abandons me in a rush. Without it, I’m tired. Hollowed out.
Lyklan thinks my love is foolish, but he doesn’t know Celine like I do. He didn’t fall asleep longing to wake up old enough to do something about her S’lach problem. He didn’t watch how fiercely she fought in the arena to keep me and the others safe.
He believes Celine abandoned the nish, but why is it her responsibility to prevent her father’s evil from spreading? S’lach’s rise to power didn’t happen overnight. Many angels failed to stop him. Angels older than Celine, with more political experience.
She shouldered the weight of his evil for too long on her own; it’s someone else’s turn to deal with him. I want to be the one, but I’m starting to lose hope.
S’lach’s ability to silence his opponents makes him nearly impervious to radiant attacks. It’s why he’s universally feared. Few have the bravery to face someone without their magic.
I knew it as a boy. It’s why I focused on physical combat without the aid of magic. I’m well-versed in radiant attacks, but I’m at my strongest with a sword in my hand.
I need more time.
Perhaps instead of asking Lyklan for my journal, I should have asked him for a weapon. But if I attempt an assassination and fail, we would both be killed for it. There would be no way to convince S’lach the weapon didn’t come from my former guardian. I can’t risk his life, too.
Sighing, I lay back on the narrow bed and shut my eyes. White presses against my eyelids. It’s not painful, but it is impossible to ignore. Will I die for the Elodius deception, or can I convince S’lach that his defection was unplanned?
My heart sinks. I’m no strategist. If Alistair or Ciprian were here, they would run through all the scenarios, test potential responses, and weigh the likelihood of success for each one until they found the best options.
I swallow with difficulty around the sudden lump in my throat.
I’m used to missing Celine. I didn’t expect to miss them, too.
The camaraderie. Having a shared goal without the burden of sole leadership. During my time in the Fringes, I didn’t feel like everything was my responsibility. I was just Malach, and that was okay. Gods, I miss it. Miss them.
I can’t give up. Not yet. Not ever.
I press the journal into Lyklan’s hands.
He tucks it inside his shirt, his jaw clenched tight.
“If there’s something you want to say, you’d better say it now,” I murmur.
After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, I’m beyond formality or the rules dictated by celestial tradition.
Lyklan may be the last friendly face I see, and while I’m not sure I’ll ever completely forgive him for his part in my branding, deep down I know he had no choice.
“You’re going to die,” he says.
“How comforting.” I chuckle. “Is that all?”
He begins to pace, his long legs devouring the room’s modest footprint in determined, agitated bites.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,” he mutters.
“We were supposed to prevail, destroying his regime from the inside. The other nish don’t have the magic or organization necessary to do it, but they hate him.
All it would take to topple his control is a well-timed blow. ”
I glance at the closed door and frown. “Keep your voice down, or you’ll end up floating in the eternal beyond beside me.”
Lyklan hisses. “I deserve it for my cowardice.” He narrows his eyes. “Your determination is misguided honor, Malach. Let me get Celine. She could challenge him for control of their radiant lineage. He would be politically neutered—”
“No.” I put my hand on Lyklan’s shoulder and force him to stop moving. “He would kill her if she tried. Even Celine can’t survive an infinite number of assassination attempts. Eventually, someone would get lucky.”
“She should kill him then,” Lyklan seethes. “Before he gets the chance to kill her. Your sacrifice is a waste if it doesn’t save anyone. Let me go to the Fringes. I’ll find her and bring her back. If you’ll only allow me to make the smart decision—”
“It’s not your decision, friend.”
He stiffens at the term of endearment, and his wingtips graze the floor. “I’ve failed you,” he says. “I’m the first of my family’s line to betray yours.”
“Lyklan . . .” I squeeze his shoulder, then drop my hand.
“The honor we were told to live by had value. It gave us structure and clear priorities, but . . .” I scrub my hand over my face, the dull throb of my headache lingering.
“It has limits. You were right about that. There are other codes of conduct worth examining. Even with my judgment, I haven’t always made the right decisions. You can’t allow regret to consume you.”
“You’re trying to absolve me?”
“I’m trying to tell you there’s nothing to absolve.”
He flinches as though I slapped him. “I-I wanted you to bend your morals to secure victory, not as a parting gift before your demise.”
I force a smile. “Maybe it won’t come to that.”
“You must divert blame and promise to find the source of the betrayal,” he says. “It’s the only way you'll survive this. If he believes you’ve outlived your usefulness, there’s no reason to keep you alive.”
“I know this—”
“You must lie, Malach.”
“I’m aware of that, too.”
“Convincingly.”
I raise one eyebrow. “You think me incapable?”
Lyklan’s lips press into a thin line. “I harbor doubt.” I clap my hand over my heart, and he rolls his eyes. “I must go. If he returns and sees me—”
“Go. Keep the letters in the journal safe. If my time comes, see that she gets it.”
He nods, two divots appearing between his eyebrows as he scowls at me. This is it. It’s awkward. Painfully so. We’ve already exceeded the emoting we were raised to find acceptable, yet Lyklan doesn’t leave.
“You called me friend,” he finally says. His voice is raspy, but his enunciation is deliberate, as if he’s making sure I hear each word. “I wish there were time to make it true.”
I smile.
He’s gone a moment later, and a strange calm falls over me.
I hear slamming doors and shouting. Feel the prickle of magic seeping through the walls.
The brand burns, and I lift my shirt to examine the angry red wound. It never fully heals, and I doubt it will ever get the chance.
When I’m dragged from the room, I refuse to make a sound.