Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
Chrysoprase
Every word is a dagger in my chest, twisting and stabbing as the stories pour out of him. Hearing these things—knowing what’s happened instead of the constant guessing—only makes my heart break more for him.
But I listen. To each and every word, I listen.
Graylen gave me the chance to get away; the least I can do is be here in whatever capacity he needs me.
The words flow out of him, all while I run my fingers through the thick, dark strands of his hair. I listen quietly as he tells me what happened to him—about the things he experienced while in the Vale.
He tells me about the tattoo—about Vidaris carving it into him as she laughed about disfiguring the Prince’s Snake. It takes every ounce of control I have to listen silently, to not react.
I don’t think he expects me not to have a reaction, but I think he needs me to be a safe space for him to get all of this out.
So that’s exactly what I do. I take what he tells me—the rage that it stirs in my chest—and bottle it up, funneling it into a place tucked away until the person I want to unleash it on is in front of me.
Or people. Moros would do for now.
“She would make me watch you die in more ways than I can count. Sometimes for what felt like from sunup to sundown.” Graylen swallows, his jaw tensing.
“Only there was no sundown—no nighttime to rest in.” A small shudder trembles through his shoulders.
“Just an empty red sky that rained blood when Vidaris wasn’t with me. ”
He huffs out a hollow laugh, the words dying in his throat. His eyes find mine, and I can see the pain there—the feelings he keeps hidden.
My eyes trail over the scars along the expanse of his arms. If I look hard enough, I can almost make out the L that started my name on his forearm, but even a single letter is hard to find through the jagged skin.
“You’ve never told me the story of your tattoos,” I say quietly, peeling my gaze away from his new scars to look up at him. “Of why you and the other Aegis get them.”
His mouth quirks into a half-smile. “You never asked.”
I roll my eyes, my grin mirroring his.
He gently untangles me from him and pushes up to lean against the headboard. Silently, he peels his shirt off, letting me see all of what happened to him. A flurry of rage blossoms in my stomach as he gives me a better look, my gaze level with his chest.
The moonlight spilling in brightens the room, illuminating a fraction of what Graylen endured while in the Vale.
I can almost remember the ink that marked his skin—the archaic style that was unintelligible aside from my name.
“When an Aegis is given a mission that requires a life vow, they get these.” He lifts his arms, rotating them in front of me. “When I stepped forward to lead the mission to find you, there was a possibility of it taking a lifetime to track you down.”
I shiver at the thought, ice filling my veins at the possibility of him—and me—being trapped in Crea forever.
“What does it all mean?” I ask. My fingers brush his forearm, the broken dark ink swirled into his tanned flesh.
“It’s my mission—the vow I made,” he says softly. “When we bind ourselves to the life vow, we get these to never forget the promise we’ve made. We can only make one. The markings are specific to the Aegis alone, a language only our kind can read.”
His eyes met mine, burning into me.
“But.” My voice comes out breathless. “I can read it—at least some of it.”
“I don’t have an explanation for that,” Graylen whispers. “The only thing I know is that you shouldn’t be able to read any of it. Only the Aegis are taught this language, and on top of that, you’ve spent your life in Crea. There’s no reason why you should be able to understand it.”
A frown tugs at my face. There’s still so much that we don’t know—why I am the way I am.
“The vow I made,” he continues, his fingers threading through mine. “On my soul, my life, and the Goddess of the Moon, I make this vow. For even death cannot break it, and only success will release me from its bind. My life belongs to Lunaria, and only in finding her, may I have peace.”
My throat constricts as he recites the vow to me, his voice rough and low.
He clears his throat and adds, “An Aegis’s vow is deeply personal. Intimate. Those words, along with more detailed plans, are what line my skin.” Something in his gaze shifts as he whispers, “What lined my skin.”
The remains of his markings are broken beyond repair, something that I now realize cuts far deeper than the physical pain.
“But you still completed the mission,” I say gently, meeting his gaze. “You found me.”
A soft smile spreads across his face. “I’ll always find my way to you, little princess.”
I snuggle against his chest and breathe in the rainy scent that clings to him. “Just as I’ll always find you,” I repeat.
As we fall into a comfortable silence and Graylen’s light snores begin to fill the air, I fight against sleep. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of the scars splattered across his body.
Any hesitation I’ve had about facing Moros begins to slip away as I stare at the remains of what Vidaris did to him. I’m going to find Nightfall, and then I’m going to make them regret touching my Graylen.