Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The walk home feels like wading through water. Every step is a fight. I cling to Sara's final words because the alternative is acknowledging the truth.
My father is a murderous tyrant.
My stomach turns. How am I supposed to live with that?
How am I supposed to look Malachi in the eyes? His kingdom is cursed because of my parents. Pia may not have intended it, but her flight to Tenebris was the catalyst. The match that lit the fire.
Gods. He must hate her.
They all must.
That thought hits harder than knowing who my father is. I slow as I reach my building, pressing my back against the wall to steady myself. Above me, the sky bleeds crimson. The blood moon hasn't set. It watches me like a wound that won't close. I shut my eyes and try to breathe.
I'll go inside. Find a map of the tunnels. Figure out the fastest route to the Hall of Gratitude. Malachi will ask questions, and I'll tell him the truth.
Part of it, anyway. My brother is there. That much I can say. The rest? I can't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The thought of how he'll look at me when he learns who my father is breaks something in my chest. A monster's daughter. Even if he could look past it, I'm not sure I could.
He gave up his wings. His raffin. His freedom. Three centuries of his life, suspended in nothing. Because of that curse. Because of my family.
My knees give out. I slide down the wall and pull my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. For once in my life, I feel like the child the Sages never allowed me to be.
I think of the boy at the ceremony. The one who looked like Cas. The way he resisted until the very end, until there was nothing left to resist with. Thousands of people have suffered that fate.
Maybe more. Because of me. My safety cost them their freedom. That's the cruelty of it all.
Even setting aside the elixirs I brewed for ten years, all of it still leads back to me. Not Jordi. Me. Jordi is Cato's son.
But I'm the one who inherited Pia's healing gift. I'm the one Cato truly wants. The key to breaking the curse. Or becoming his next victim.
A sob builds in my chest. I swallow it down. This is something I cannot hide from Malachi. I won't.
Not because I owe Mortiana a debt, but because I owe it to him. To Kage. To Draven. To all of Tenebris. They could have turned Pia away when she fled to them. They sheltered her instead. And they've been paying for that kindness ever since.
The healer's hands will break the chain, but the price of freedom is all she contains. I don't know what those words mean. Am I meant to die, like all the healers who tried before me? To be drained by my own father until nothing remains?
I take a breath. Another. I cannot fall apart. Not again. Not yet. I think of everything Pia endured. Everything she sacrificed. If she could face Cato while carrying his children, I can stand up and walk inside my own building.
I feel Malachi before I see him. His presence floods the bond, urgent and sharp. I lift my head. He's at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the flickering lights. The moment he sees me, he moves, descending so fast his feet barely seem to touch the steps.
I tip my head back to look at him, and something in my chest tightens. He looks like a warrior standing in the aftermath of battle. The bleeding sky frames him like one of Freida's old paintings, the ones depicting gods and wars and terrible beauty. It feels like an omen.
My sigil flares, and I realize what I'm feeling isn't mine. His anger. Barely contained, burning through the bond like wildfire. I'd forgotten how it feels. Destructive. Unforgiving. Ready to consume everything in its path.
I haul myself off the ground and tip my head back to meet his gaze. Gods. Even scowling, he's devastating. Maybe more so. The rage suits him somehow, sharpening all those already dangerous edges. Not that I'd ever tell him that.
I'd never admit that I love the stubble darkening his jaw. Or how many hours I spent imagining what it would feel like to sink my fingers into his hair before I finally did. Or that I've memorized the flecks of brown and black in those golden eyes.
I'd never admit that when his jaw flexes like it's doing now, something low in my stomach tightens. Or that the same thing happens every time he says "fuck," even though the word still catches me off guard.
"Keep looking at me like that, Menace." His voice is rough. "And I'll send everyone home."
Heat floods through me, but I force myself to ignore it. I nod toward the building. "Who's here?"
"It doesn't matter."
The edge in his voice snaps my attention back to his face. "Why are you so angry?"
"Because you're in pain!"
I swallow. "It was a typical meeting with the Sages. I tried to close the bond so you wouldn't have to feel any of it. Next time I'll—"
"You think I'm angry because I felt it?" He steps closer.
"I'm angry they made you feel that way at all.
I'm angry they have wards around that property.
" His voice drops, dangerous. "Which is probably for the best. Because if I'd been able to get inside, the realm would be short three Sages right now.
And goddess-fucking-forbid we upset the balance! "
I stop breathing.
"Oh," I manage.
"Yes. Oh." His hand lifts to cup the back of my neck, and he lowers his face until our eyes are level. "And now I'm furious that you tried to shut me out. That you thought you had to carry it alone."
A sob rises. I bite my trembling lip and force it down. Can't he see I'm barely holding on? That I'm unraveling with every breath? That I cannot share this particular pain with him?
"My torment isn't yours to carry," I whisper.
"No." His thumb traces along my jaw. "But it would be my privilege if you let me."
The sob escapes before I can stop it. I shake my head and try to pull away, but he holds me there, watching me with those golden eyes that see far too much.
"Why are you fighting this?" His voice is barely a whisper.
Another sob tears through me. "Because I have to!"
This time, when I pull away, he lets me go.
Somehow, that breaks me more than if he'd held on.
I hate this. All of it. And the bond makes everything worse. I can feel his concern.
His confusion. And gods, the doubt. As if he's questioning whether I want him as much as he wants me. If only he knew. If only I could tell him that wanting him isn't the problem.
I wish I could reach inside myself and tear it all out. The bond. The guilt. Everything.
"What changed?" He searches my face. "What did they tell you?"
The knot in my throat tightens. I want to scream that nothing has changed and everything has changed. But I can't. If I say that, I might as well say it all. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to say these words aloud. The shame is suffocating. Brutal.
I've never wished for anything outside of what the Veritas Order could give me. I stopped wanting things I couldn't have a long time ago. But if I let myself wish for something now, it would be him.
The thought makes another sob rise. I turn away, closing my eyes, searching for that place inside myself where I can shut everyone out. But I can't find it. The bond has invaded everything. He's everywhere.
"Ada."
"I can't do this right now, Mal." I keep my eyes closed. Coward.
"Look at me."
I squeeze my eyes tighter.
"Look at me!" The snap in his voice makes me flinch.
My eyes fly open. His gaze is so intense it feels like being pinned. The flickering lights make his eyes look like they're glowing.
"Whatever they told you about me," he says, voice low and controlled, "I can explain."
I blink. "About you?"
His brows furrow. He searches my face for answers I can't give. Before either of us can speak, Kage's voice bellows from the second-story window.
"We found it!" He holds up a rolled map, then frowns at the two of us. "Whatever's happening down there can wait. We found the map."
I exhale and head for the stairs. We climb in silence, neither of us speaking until we reach the apartment door. His hand closes around mine. He pulls me back. I turn, heart pounding, and meet his gaze.
"This conversation isn't over."
I nod. That's all I can manage.
I expected Kage and Naima. Maybe Margot. I didn't expect Draven.
All four of them are crowded around the dining table, maps spread between them, Lenora's journal open at the center.
"Gods, Temp." Naima nearly knocks her chair over rushing toward me. Margot follows, her expression mirroring the same concern.
I hold up my hands before either of them can embrace me. "I'm barely holding on," I whisper. "If you hug me, I'll shatter."
"You look like you've already been crying." Margot's voice is soft.
"So do you."
Her mouth twitches. Almost a smile.
"Was it that bad?" Naima searches my face.
"Worse."
Naima's eyes widen. Margot's expression, impossibly, grows sadder. I wonder again what else she's seen. What she's not telling us. I don't ask. Not now.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Naima whispers.
"I'm about to." I nod toward the table. They follow me over. I offer Draven a small smile as I sit across from him. "I thought you were leaving."
"I came to say goodbye." He studies my face but doesn't comment on whatever he sees there.
"You look awful," Kage says flatly. He shrugs at the glares he receives. "What? She does."
"Thanks for that." I exhale and focus on the map. "Where did you find it?"
"Lenora's journal. It was in the binding. Hidden," Naima says.
"You left it out this morning,” Mal adds.
I frown, wondering why Lenora went through such lengths to hide the map. It’s old. Ancient, maybe. The Shroud is barely a smudge at the edges.
The Temple of Veritas isn't marked. Neither is the University or the Estate. I search for the Hall of Gratitude. Instead, I find the Temple of Noktelum.