Ilaris
Asong hummed in my head as I bid Killian good night and we went to our separate rooms. He was only two doors down, yet it felt strangely wrong to walk away from him.
Not when we’d spent so much time together, from the train to nights out in the wild and, finally, the shared intimacy of surviving together.
It was hard to imagine my life without him, before I’d embarked on such a unique adventure.
Tonight it was a relief to let go of control, to be inside the safety of an inn and drink deeply, forgetting about the confusion of Killian. My body was warm from the ale, my thoughts hazy as I undressed and flung back the covers.
A knock came at the door.
Three sharp raps. Precise, not patient.
Killian? Was he going to take me up on my offer?
A low hum of desire strummed through me. We had much to say, much to unravel, and I hadn’t dared to broach the subject of the scroll. I tugged my tunic over my head and opened the door.
The person on the other side pushed past me before I could speak. The door shut. Something wrapped around my throat, fabric, thin yet strong, and pulled taut.
“Not a word,” she hissed.
She squeezed harder, and the edges of my vision went bright. The sound that left my throat was involuntary and undignified, a strangled rasp. I went up on my tiptoes, my fingers tugging against the fabric.
“Listen,” the woman said, voice low, words hurried.
“You must be the scholar, bound to the fire prince. He does not fully understand why he is here, nor, I suspect, do you. He is nothing but death and destruction, and you are trapped in his maze. You need to escape, set yourself free, and I will deal with bringing him to justice.”
Justice. The words rang in my ears.
I gasped for air, wishing I hadn’t had so much to drink. “Are you Lady Justice?”
“I am, but now is not the time for questions.”
My mind raced. Now, if ever, was a time for questions. She’d clearly been watching us, biding her time, waiting until I was alone.
“You have the Heart,” she went on. “He gave it to you, even though it was not his right. The gifts of the gods belong to me, not to be misused by some mortal hand. You will give it to me.”
A cold fear washed over me, removing the haze from the ale.
Killian had warned me what would happen to those who had the three gifts, and if Lady Justice was chasing us down for them, it did not bode well.
Despite her name, I feared how she would use them against us.
Not only Killian and me but the human race.
I didn’t know her goals any more than I knew what, ultimately, Killian was after either.
I kicked out hard, catching her knee, then taking advantage of the moment to drop to the ground.
She fell on top of me, yanking my throat hard with the scarf.
I kicked. She was faster. In moments she had me on my back, wrists bound, sitting on my chest with her full weight, the fabric at my throat tight again.
My vision swam. Her face hovered above me, human one moment, distinctly not the next. Her features shifted between green and blue and something other. The scent of her perfume reached me, sweet against the iron taste of fear at the back of my mouth.
Her voice rang in my ears. “That was a mistake. Don’t be greedy like the giants, hoarding the gifts of the gods to yourself, believing you, and you alone, can save the world from its sin.
Give it to me, and I will do what you cannot.
The age of the giants is over. Do you want the mortals to end up the same way?
” Her grip tightened. “You want to save them, don’t you?
Although they have done nothing to deserve it. ”
The pressure in my chest built, and it became harder to breathe. My legs kicked, then went weak as the world faded and fluttered. Here in this busy inn, I felt more alone than I’d ever been in my life.
I came back to myself, half-naked on the floor, my throat raw, head spinning, stomach churning. The room was dark and empty, the door shut. My head pounded as I rolled to my side and stumbled to my feet, weaving for a moment. The room was empty. I was alone.
I went to my bag, searched it, already knowing it was gone. She’d gone through my things, and despite how I’d buried it, hidden it from sight, she’d taken the Heart.
And only the Heart.
The sob of desperation that rose bit at my ragged throat. Not bothering to dress, I snatched up my clothes and the satchel, tucked my armor as best as I could into the bag, and lurched out the door. The hall was dark, little lamps offering vague light.
Two doors down I knocked, gently at first, hoping not to wake anyone else.
Killian opened it almost immediately. His lamp was still on, the golden glow showing off his tousled hair. He, too, was half-naked, the bronze tones of his bare chest highlighted. His expression shifted, lips parted. “What’s wrong?”
The fact that he knew right away made me want to throw myself into his arms, to seek his comfort. I almost choked on my words. “Lady Justice. She took the Heart.”
His jaw went tight, hands curled into fists, and he stepped into the hall. The words growled from his throat. “Where is she?”
“Wait,” I choked out, hands going to my tender throat.
He spun back, then understanding came over his face as his gaze went to my neck. “She hurt you.”
I held my throat, unable to stop one tear from slipping free, trailing down my cheek to drop off my chin. I didn’t want to cry because it only made the bruising worse. But there it was.
Closing the door, he stepped inside. “Lie down. I’ll get you some tea.”
“Stay with me,” I whispered, moving to his bed.
The sheets were tangled and smelled like him, a woodsy warmth and comfort that made me want to sink into them and sate my fears.
Instead, I lay on my stomach with my cheek on a folded pillow and watched him settle at the edge of the bed, drawing the lamp close.
Shadows gathered in the planes of his face, the line of his jaw, the hollow beneath his cheekbone, the corners of his mouth.
I reached for my satchel and pulled out the scroll, removing it from its protective covering. I unrolled it, then lay back, waiting.
Killian did not touch it. Instead, he pulled the light closer and read out loud.
On his tongue the words were haunting, the impact different from when I read them.
The first section of the scroll was familiar, the spell of awakening, but hearing it from his mouth was like seeing a room from a new perspective.
Time has crumbled into dust
The glory of the age to rust.
What greatness was, has passed away,
Return to us, we bid thee stay.
Come back to us, shed stone for flesh
Let ancient breath grow new and fresh.
From sky and sea, from ice and sand,
We call thee forth with trembling hand.
O masters of the vaulted heaven,
By oath and blood and star-fire given
Awake to hope, forsake the dark,
Remember now that elder spark.
What once was lost, recall it still
The light that burned on yonder hill.
Awake, awake, ye sleepers of old,
Rise from silence, rise from cold.
The hour has come, reclaim thy ground,
Let thy thunder break what chains have bound.
The age of dust shall pass away,
Rise up, rise up, and greet the day.
Those words I’d heard twice now, but hearing them from his lips only confirmed what I’d done. I’d read a summoning spell without thinking about it, without considering what I was awakening or who I was calling forth. Old, ancient beings. Giants. What more had I woken?
Dread sat low in my belly as Killian paused, shifting the lamp and reading out the words I dared not look at.
There lies a way to heal what’s broken,
To save what loss has stolen.
The seal door waits, the barrier bends
Where final sacrifice descends.
Gather the gifts the gods have given,
By sacred hand and purpose driven.
Return to where the gate was born
To mend the veil so long since torn.
Release what darkness dared to take
The stolen, lost, bid it awake.
The hellish holds shall break and fall,
Surrender now, surrender all.
For only in the giving over
Shall buried dawn at last recover
The barrier rise, unbreakable, strong
What was unmade shall not stay long.
Return, return, to that first place,
As restoration shows its face.
What once was lost shall be restored,
Unbroken now and whole once more.
The words hummed and buzzed, rich and poetic, beautiful and dramatic.
As he read, the meaning became clear. It wasn’t a quest about awakening the giants and guarding the seals, keeping the Unmaking from breaking free.
It was power, choice, and sacrifice that would seal the barriers and reform the gates.
In order to do so, one had to collect all three of the gifts of the gods and return to the place where it all started.
When Killian finished reading, we both lay there, silent, our breathing heavy.
“I was wrong,” he spoke quietly. “This was what Lady Justice was getting at, this must be what Theron wanted you to know. It’s not about the seals.
It’s about power, righting the wrong, being willing to do so even though it will cost everything.
I’m not sure I know what the ultimate sacrifice is.
Perhaps it will become clear as we move forward. ”
“And Lady Justice?”
Killian cursed, the first time I’d heard that sound from his lips. “She must believe she’s the rightful one to do so. Or that we can’t be trusted to complete the quest, especially now that she has the Heart.”
“The gifts were never meant to be kept,” I said quietly. “They were meant to be returned.”
“We’ll get the Heart back,” Killian responded.
“You don’t know that,” I protested.
“Theron gave it to you, specifically, for a reason. What did he say?”
“It was for me, the scholar.”
“He knew you were coming,” Killian said quietly, staring at the scroll as if it would give him answers. “How he knew the future, I don’t understand.”
“What does it mean for us? What do we do next?”
He looked at me then, the rawness, the questions in his eyes made my heart skip a beat.
A flood of warmth filled me, and I wanted to reach for him, to comfort him.
He was the last giant, and the others had abandoned him.
The stone giant’s denial to help must have been painful, along with the knowledge that Killian had misinterpreted his purpose.
I wasn’t sure where it left us. The idea of going home wasn’t as enticing as it had been weeks ago, when all of this had begun.
I’d been pulled into something ancient and deep, and I wanted to see it through to its conclusion, whatever it might be.
Now that I understood the dangers, what had been buried deep, I wanted to see the surface as well.
“We go on,” Killian sighed. “This time, instead of waking my brethren to help us seal the gates, we ask about the gifts of the gods. They are hidden in each kingdom, and when we find them all, we return to the place where it all began, return the gifts, and seal the door once and for all.”
My throat hurt suddenly, not because of what Lady Justice had done to me but for another reason.
Killian. What would happen when we sealed the gates?
Would he return to his stone prison, or would he be free to walk this world, to live his life?
The words I wanted to say wouldn’t come forth, so I whispered the next ones.
“It’s clear that Lady Justice believes she’s the one to return the gifts and seal the gates. Why?”
“Where final sacrifice descends.” Killian repeated the words.
“She has to be willing to make the sacrifice, but stealing the Heart does not imply willingness. The gods do not look kindly on theft. There was a reason the gift was given to you, not to me, not to her. Perhaps you were chosen for this specifically. We all failed, but you have the opportunity to bring redemption, and have it come from the mortals. Not giants. Not Lady Justice. Nor the Guardians either. I’m sorry, this is not what you would have chosen. I was ready to take you home.”
“I want to be here,” I admitted. “With you. It’s dangerous, yes, but it’s the kind of adventure I never knew I longed for, especially as a scholar. This is everything I didn’t know I longed for. Especially you, not because you are a giant, but because I didn’t expect to feel for you the way I do.”
“Ilaris,” he said gently. “I have tried to keep my distance from you. I have tried not to give in. I find that I cannot.”
I reached for him, tentatively touching his chest. It was bare, warm, but his fire didn’t flare. I straddled him, the material between us as I slowly lowered my face to his.
“Ilaris,” he groaned. “This is dangerous—I could burn you.”
“Don’t,” I whispered. And kissed him.
His mouth was warm and his lips parted, welcoming me, tasting me.
I felt the moment his restraint shifted.
His hands came to my waist, ever so gently, and his palms spanned the material there.
I felt the coiled edges of his fire hiding behind gates of control.
An inferno was there, dangerous, close enough to explore, to burn us to ash, yet he held back.
For me.
My hair tumbled free like a curtain, like a soft material brushing against his arm.
I heard the intake of his breath, a sound that left me greedy for more, well aware of the power I held over him.
Of intoxication and passion, of sinking into the worship, the pleasure of each other.
And I wanted it like nothing I’d wanted before.
I brought my hands to his shoulders, then dared to lace my fingers around his neck, anchoring him to me.
His jaw went tight as he broke the kiss and went still, his chest rising and falling as he drew back. But I didn’t move. I held my position, watching those molten eyes deepen and darken.
His body trembled underneath me, the fire restless, wanting to rise, yet banked. I thought he’d ask me to move, to get off him, but he held me, kissing me slowly, tenderly. His lips against mine, the corner of my mouth, the column of my bruised neck, the indent of my collarbone.
A thousand sensations rose, and need tightened like a noose, my breath came shorter, faster.
I needed a release, an escape. My hips moved against him, that sound came from his throat again, and his fingers twisted around material, tightening, as though he needed time to refocus his control against the fire.
“Tell me,” I said against his mouth, “if it’s too much.”
He captured my mouth, consuming my words. “It’s. . .not. Not what I expected.” He took a strangled breath. “I didn’t know it could be like this.”
And then he released me. Heat passed between us, and the scent of smoke came as he stumbled out of bed and went to the window. Opening it, he leaned out, breathing hard. Fire flamed from him, ever so briefly.
Even though we’d gone too far, we’d also broken through a barrier. I lay back, pressing a hand to my lips as I watched, the edges of hope gathering like the gentle wings of night. Softening all the sharp edges.