5
Forgive Me, My King
Riven
I enter Caryan’s chambers, the horned head of a beast on the wall beside the door greeting me with, “My prince of Silvander and heir to the throne of Khalix.” Then the door swings open on a ghost wind, the bluish flames in its eye sockets once again diminished.
“What did you just call me?” I pause, looking at the head, but it stays silent, the flames not returning. No sign that I’ll get an answer.
But relief swamps me when I walk deeper into Caryan’s rooms. I’ve tried to speak to him every night throughout the last week, but the doors stayed locked every time.
I find the angel on the terrace, looking up at the two moons—the sanguine moon looming over the one from the human world, or rather the reflection of it.
You can only see it in Caryan’s kingdom, where it shines through the fae gap in the ocean.
Caryan turns to me when he hears me approach. He must have long felt me over the bond and decided to let me come to him, finally. The bond has been eerily silent over the last week. Caryan used to speak to me or give orders through it, but he has done none of those things recently.
No order, no yank, no command. Not even a direct word. Not since we left the cavernous halls of the oracle. At least, not to me.
“You should sleep,” I say as I notice the shadowed rims under Caryan’s dark eyes—eyes that drink the light of stars.
Caryan looks frightening like this. Wild in a way that is not of this world.
He walks past me without a word and disappears inside. A wind rises then, so strong I have to fight it with my magic to keep it from pushing me right off the balcony. I follow him inside to where he stands with his back to me in front of the bar, pouring himself a drink.
“When will you speak to me again? Tell me what it takes. What I must do, my king.”
Caryan’s wide shoulders stiffen and he turns, his fangs bared, his voice so low only a fae could hear it. “Do you know what the most tiresome truth is that you learn in an immortal life?”
I swallow and incline my chin as Caryan takes a step toward me, shadows swathing around angelic wings that threaten to form from the darkness.
“That everyone betrays you in the end. No matter how close you were. No matter what you did for them.”
I do not dare breathe as Caryan draws even closer, silent as a cat and with otherworldly grace, until he stops before me.
“I do not fear death, but I do fear being in a room full of people I cannot trust.”
I eventually lower my head. “I did not betray you.”
Shadows grab me and pin me to the wall on the other side of the room before I can blink. The wall cracks as my back collides with it, twines of shadow wrapping around my throat and pulling tight.
I don’t bother to fight. Nothing can cut Caryan’s magic. The power of one high lord, no matter how formidable, is but a tiny drop compared to an ocean.
Maybe Caryan will end me here. Now.
“You did not betray me? You have the audacity to say a thing like that to my face?” Caryan appears right before me, born out of his own shadows.
“I could not have said it if it were not true,” I manage to press out.
“If you did not believe it to be true!” Caryan growls, a black fire burning in his eyes now. “Which makes it even worse.”
“I know you do not fear death, Caryan. But I also know you fear that you have lost her forever.”
“How dare you speak to me like this?” Caryan’s fangs snap shut right in front of my face, his shadows filling the whole vast room, bristling and biting through the air.
“Because it’s true. I also know you fear being shackled again—by anything. Or anyone. You tried to break that bond to her by breaking her. I did it to save you from yourself,” I grind out, holding Caryan’s gaze.
“Liar! You let your own feelings for her make that decision. That is a decision in itself. I should let you rot in a prison or feed you to the demon for this betrayal.”
“Then do it,” I counter as the shadows all around me pull even tighter, cutting off my air. Briefly, they squeeze so tight I expect them to take my head off.
But then they loosen and pull back from me, and I fall to my hands and knees.
Caryan turns away and throws over a shoulder, “You are not worth the effort. Get out of my sight.”
“I let my own feelings for you make that decision, Caryan,” I rasp as soon as I have enough air to speak again.
He pauses. This time those mighty, feathered wings take form, filling the vast space of the room, shadows dripping off them like fresh tar and black smoke. A warning in itself. A warning I ignore.
“I know you, Caryan. You said it yourself to the oracle—you feel shackled to her. By her. You tried to break her, your own mate! You tried to break that mating bond, Caryan. I know you would have regretted that decision. I could not let that happen.”
Outside, a crack splits the air, like mountains colliding and crumbling as black lightning strikes down.
“How dare you jump to conclusions on my behalf!” Caryan spins on his heel and lifts me by the neck.
“Because I know you better than most. I spent most of my life with you. And you have a tendency to turn a blind eye to things you find…inconvenient to your objectives. That includes even your mate—and she is not even full fae, Caryan. You would have crushed her until she was nothing but a broken tool for you.”
I wait for a blow. The deathblow. This is why I came here, I realize with a cold kind of shock. To die. To be executed for what I did. Why Caryan has not yet done so, I do not even dare contemplate.
But Caryan just lets go of me and stands there. A god, frozen in time and space. Between worlds. A creature more mighty than any other living being, the weight of eternity shimmering in his eyes.
Suddenly, sadness washes through me. For Melody. For someone so young, bound to someone so ancient as Caryan. Caryan was right in what he said to the oracle: angels have no mates—and for good reason. It is a cruel joke to bind a half-mortal to something like him. An eternal king of worlds.
I do not dare breathe into the silence between us. Eventually, Caryan looks away, his jaw set. “If you believe that, then you know me even less well than you think.”
“Then forgive me my mistake.” I conjure my claws and shred my own shirt until it glides in ribbons down my body. “Take it out on me. Punish me. But forgive me.”
Caryan looks over his own wings, his face a mask of disdain when he turns his gaze back to me, his eyes dripping over my body. I rise and drop to one knee before him, bow my head deep, one arm outstretched. A whip with nine cords, brutal spikes of silver at each end, appears in my open palm.
I lift my head and offer it to him. “Take it out on me. Let me be redeemed. But forgive me. Please. Forgive me.”
But Caryan just stands there for a very long time before he says calmly, “There will come a time when you will have to make a decision, Riven. Between her and me. And I know you will not choose my side. No form of punishment will ever change that.”
“You cannot know that!” I snarl, but he is already gone, vanished into thin air. The whip in my hand turns to ash and sifts through my fingers like sand in an hourglass.