Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
RAE
“Jai…” I whisper, rubbing my hand over my still-aching chest. The wound I inflicted on the king echoes through my ribcage.
He has brought me to his favorite terrace and set me down on a marble bench, checking me over, making sure I’m okay.
Then he retreated toward the balustrade over the sea. Now he’s standing there, the wind whipping at his dark hair. After a while, he lifts a hand.
What is he doing?
He’s like a picture from a book, his tall, strong frame cut out against the night, the light from the Pillar limning his outline in silver.
Then a huge shadow descends from the sky.
I stare, unable to believe my eyes, muffling a gasp behind my palm.
A Great Dara.
He called down one of the great dragons.
I sit there for long moments, frozen, as the creature flies lower. Then, as if against my will, I stand up and approach him.
“Jai. What are you doing?”
He turns his head. The Pillar is reflected in his dark eyes. “He’s just curious.”
He says it like that’s normal.
“Curious?” I whisper. “About what?”
“Us.”
The enormous dragon hovers high in the air, sparkling, hiding the sky. It’s like a living, half-solid cloud with wings, a reptilian head dipping down to watch us.
“You summoned a dara, Jai.” My voice sounds hushed even to myself. I find myself wringing my hands. My heart hasn’t stopped its pounding since the king ordered me to dance with him. “Is it true you called one down when you were younger?”
“When Phaethon first emerged.” He nods, a slight dip of his head. His hair falls in his eyes. “I haven’t been able to do it again.”
“Until today.”
I’m about to ask what changed, but I know.
The bond.
The increase in magic, for both of us.
“You tried to kill the king.” He’s watching me, ignoring the great dragon. “You almost killed yourself.”
“I failed.”
He lifts a hand to cup my cheek. “I should have known you were going to try something like that.”
“Something stupid like that, you mean.”
He sighs. Tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I understand why you tried it. Though I’d have destroyed this world had you passed on.”
I catch his hand against my face. “I want the world to survive. And I want you to live.”
His smile is sad, and so are his eyes. Why this sorrow? My stomach twists.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper. “Are you in pain?”
He lets out a mirthless laugh. He steps back. “What did the king tell you as you danced?”
“He thinks… He thinks that I can summon dragons and open gates. But he’s wrong. Even if I could, I’d never help him.”
“It’s the prophecy,” Jai says. “He’s sure you’re part of it, and that it’s your fate to accomplish what he wants.”
I stare out at the sea. The dara circles away, then returns, its feathers glittering.
“If you succeeded in killing the king,” he says softly, “then, what? Once the king was out of the way, how would you have fixed the problem?”
“Someone else will ascend the throne. His uncle, or his aunt.”
“Think they are any better? That they don’t share his ambition?”
My heart drops to my feet. “What else do you know? Tell me.”
He sighs. “They aren’t your solution.”
“And what is?”
“Wrestling back the power from the fae.”
“How?”
He nods up. “The dragons. The Great Dara. I told you this before.”
“Are you Phaethon? Are you talking about opening the gates? No matter where these gates open, your world or another, people will suffer.”
“I’m talking about decimating the king’s armies. Using the dragons to burn the cities to the ground. About destroying any chance of a gate ever opening.”
Relief floods me. “Fine. But you’d have to kill Phaethon to ensure that. And that would probably kill you, too.”
“You were ready to sacrifice yourself just now. Why do you think I wouldn’t be ready to do the same?”
“No.” I cup his face and my power flows through me, my voice trilling. “Marsyas. Please.”
He jerks, eyes widening. “No. No, no…”
“What is it?” I grab hold of his coat. “Jai?”
He steps back, his face twisting. “You have to let me go.”
“Talk to me.” Gods, he’s trembling.
“Oh fuck. I told you, I’m not a good person.” He turns away so suddenly, I release him. “I deserve to die.”
“What? No. Jai…”
He turns toward the balustrade and his shadows curl around him, slither over the rail. “You should just shove me off the fucking edge and into the sea and be done with me.”
“What? What’s going on?”
“I’m a bastard. A good-for-nothing. I don’t deserve you.” He casts me a desperate look—and then he goes down on his knees. “Hells…”
I stare at him.
“Command me,” he says, his voice rough. “I live to serve you. I’ll do anything you ask me to, don’t you know that?”
“You’re not my slave,” I whisper. “Get up.”
“I don’t have to be a slave to kneel for you.”
“Then I’ll kneel, too,” I say and do just that. I cup his face. “Is this about my true nature? Because I’m not human anymore?” I swallow back more tears. I can’t think of any other reason for this weird conversation. “Does it disgust you?”
“Oh, my darling,” he says, pressing my palm to his cheek.
“You were special from the start. You are amazing and always will be. Your moral compass, your joy for life, your kindness. Your bright light. One love. Only one. You are someone worth waiting for, Little Thorn. Whatever form you take is beautiful to me.”
I gulp back tears. “You haven’t seen me. You don’t know what I look like as a dragon.”
“It doesn’t matter. And soon… Soon it won’t matter anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Say you don’t want me,” he whispers. “You don’t want to be with me, Rae.”
“Of course I do. I love you, Jai.”
“Fuck…” His head bows, black hair falling in his eyes. His jaw works. It’s as if he’s seeing something I’m not, as if a darker lens covers his vision.
“You gave me back my real name,” he says, his voice low and hushed. “Called me by it. You kissed me and breathed life back into me. You woke me up, and now… now I know.”
“Know what?” I trace the patterns on his cheekbones as a bad feeling grips me. “Jai… are your memories coming back?” I take a breath as a thought strikes me. “Your memories of the night my family died?”
A slow nod. “I wish they weren’t.”
“Why?” I’m winded. Can’t breathe. “Tell me.”
If there is one thing I’m starting to figure out is that, if you think things can’t get worse, it’s probably only because you lack sufficient imagination.
He rises slowly to his feet, the wind whipping at his coat, at his hair, his eyes incandescent. “The problem isn’t you. It’s me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It was me all along,” he says. “You asked if it was I who killed your parents, and I couldn’t remember. Now I do, and the answer is, yes. I killed them. The thing is, makhair… I would do it again.”