EPILOGUE #2
“Why?” There’s nothing soft about the question. I’m also not sure I give a shit how he answers.
He’s alive. He’s a …
Scion.
Cassiel doesn’t answer. Instead, he points to the sword I left by the door. “You’ll feel better if you’re holding that.”
I edge back slowly, knowing it’s a trick. Trying to kiss me. Now this. He’s toying with me.
When I’m even with the sword, I squat quickly and snatch it. A scrabble of claws hits the door from the other side, followed by a frantic howl as Hero begins scratching, like he’s trying to dig his way through the glass.
Hero knew.
I try to ignore the slight shaking in my hands as I rise and find Cassiel armed. Not with a sword.
A dagger. He plays with it for a moment, its slender blade flashing, light catching the gemstones embedded in its hilt. “Do you know what this is?”
I’ve held that dagger in my hand twice. Both times, it changed my life. Yeah, I know what it is, which is why it seems safer to lie. “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“Oh, you are a live one.” There’s a glint of approval in his eyes, and I tighten my grip on the sword. “This dagger was forged by Ravenell during the Last War. I feel like I’ve been looking for it for eons. But I suppose not as long as some.”
A deep cold settles through me as I look at the dagger. Now would be a very good time for my powers to truly manifest. Hero howls again through the door. But it’s too late. For my magic. For me.
“The revello.” He draws out the word, then winks at me.
“Interesting fact: During the Last War, this dagger killed the final scion standing in the way of the throne. Stole all his powers and trapped them in the blade. That’s what ended the cycle.
They’ve left that out of our history lessons.
The crown kept it locked away very carefully.
I had to get creative to get my hands on it.
Although your stunt during the Kindling was quite helpful. ”
A vessel of fire to liberate eternal flame …
I swallow, still staring at the dagger. All this time, and this is what we’ve been looking for—a knife I held in my own fucking hand. “That wasn’t a stunt.”
“I suppose not.” He flips it, the hilt landing in his palm. He holds it out to me. “I bet you’d use it now, Harbinger.”
But I don’t bother trying to take it from him.
“Clever,” he says, closing his fingers over its hilt again. “The revello ended the last cycle, and now it’s going to start a new one.”
“No.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself. “You can’t.”
If the cycle begins, Bishop …
“But I can. The throne has been held too long by the unworthy.” But he pauses, tilting his head as if he’s considering the situation. “There is another option.”
Something in his voice sends a tingle of warning down the back of my neck.
“You could take the revello from me.” He reaches behind his head with his free hand and draws his own sword. “Stop me from using it one last time.”
One last time. My eyes widen. “So, it was you killing those other scions and leaving their vestiges.”
Another heart collector claiming lives like trophies in the name of power.
“There was some trial and error involved,” he admits.
“But I think I finally understand how Ravenell used the knife to steal power, after following my brother and retrieving the last clue in a quaint little bookshop in Wintour. The Ars Astra can be so useful if you can reconstruct enough of it. You see, it isn’t about how you kill a scion with it. It’s about which scion you’re killing.”
My stomach bottoms out. Bishop. He’s come back to kill Bishop. That’s why he’s here. Why he spared Hadrian. He came back for his brother.
“You aren’t touching him,” I snarl, my foot sliding as I bring my blade up, angling the tip toward his throat. But my fingers are slick on the hilt, my pulse pounding so hard I can feel it in my wrists.
Cassiel barely shifts as he raises his sword, the dagger gripped in his other hand. “That’s the spirit.” He circles the tip of his sword in the air. “Let’s see what he taught you.”
He’s taunting me.
I drive forward, thrusting straight for his chest. He knocks my blade aside easily. I pivot on instinct, whipping the blade over my shoulder, coming at him with a high slice. He slips left, and I miss.
“Not bad,” he crows. He still doesn’t bother advancing on me. “What else did he teach you?”
Stars, he loves the sound of his own voice.
Thinking means death, so I don’t think.
I move.
I press him before he can speak again, slashing a high cut he meets with his own sword. Next, I aim a low sweep toward his thigh. The dagger flashes down, deflecting the edge with a sharp clang that jolts up my arms.
I overcommit on the next strike, thrusting for his shoulder, putting my weight behind it.
But he’s too fast. Too strong.
He shifts on his feet, lazily rolling his wrist, sword arcing slowly like he’s bored. “Ready to give up? I have more exciting things planned for you.”
I spit at him. “Never.”
He’s too much like his brother.
And that’s exactly why I can beat him.
I let my shoulders sag just enough. Allow my blade to dip as I retreat half a step.
Cassiel moves to attack, and that’s when I see it. The extra weight on his back leg.
The instant he drives forward, I plant my feet, then explode sideways. My boots skid across the stone floor—out of his reach.
His brow flies up in surprise.
I whip my shoulder and wrist into line as hard as I can, my blade whistling through the air just as Cassiel spins. It makes contact, and my heart soars, then plummets as only the tip of my blade slashes a thin line in the sleeve of his tunic.
That was my opening.
But he recovers faster than I do.
His sword snaps down, forcing mine wide. In the same instant, his dagger flashes toward my ribs.
I leap back to avoid it and slam into the stone railing. His sword sparks as it hits a spot a few inches from my face. I roll to avoid his next strike, throwing myself back into the center of the balcony.
Cassiel turns slowly as I regain my footing, like he isn’t in a hurry.
Almost like he’s enjoying himself. “Or we could come to some type of arrangement,” he suggests with a smirk.
“You could … leave my brother. Come with me. I’ll show you everything he’s too scared to share. Tell you what you really are.”
My stomach turns at the rotten words. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious.” He flips his sword grip in his hand.
Just like I’ve seen Bishop do a hundred times. My heart squeezes, but I keep my eyes on his blade.
“So, what will it be?” Something wild flickers in his eyes. “Live at my side or die by his?”
That’s not even a choice.
I square my shoulders and angle my sword between us, both hands on the hilt. “Carve out my heart,” I say, my voice steady. “You’ll find his name written there.”
His smile widens. “I really do understand what he sees in you. Unfortunately, this is bigger than the three of us. You’ll understand someday.”