Chapter 40
Xander’s slow, steady breaths kept Ellaryn’s heart from racing as she lay with her head against his chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
In the underbelly of the city—right beneath the king’s nose—she felt safe in his arms. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt something that almost resembled calm.
“I should have known you’d steal my heart the moment I drove my blade into yours,” he murmured, a quiet, broken chuckle escaping him as his hand traced slow, soothing circles across her back.
Though his words meant to warm her, they seemed to do the opposite.
Guilt came crashing down on her chest like a wave.
She was going to die.
She was going to leave him ruined in her wake.
Ellaryn knew enough about loss to understand one thing: it hurt less without attachments. Without desire. Without care. Without want.
Xander had grown attached. So had she.
But no happy ending waited for them. Their book wasn’t filled with blank pages and endless chapters ready to be written. Their fate was sealed—hers was sealed. But Xander had more pages. A life to be lived. A life outside shadows and darkness.
A life outside her.
His heart was going to break. That much was now painfully certain.
But if there was a chance it could break softer. Easier.
She would allow him that.
For him.
Even if it meant breaking her own.
“I—I have to go,” She said, rising quickly to her feet.
His eyes. She couldn’t look at his eyes. The sadness etched into their depths. Blue like the ocean—a tide that threatened to pull her in. Swallow her whole.
There were some currents impossible to swim out of. This felt like one of them. But she already found herself sinking, twisting, drowning. She had let herself come too close. Recklessly. And now she was pulling them both under.
The guilt twisted tighter in her chest, a voice in her mind whispering the same warning over and over again.
This was a mistake.
Before she could reach the wall, Xander caught her arm.
“You don’t have to go, Ellaryn.” He pleaded with his eyes.
Those eyes.
“Yes… I do.” She exhaled regretfully, unclasping his hand and heading for the exit.
She could see it. The hurt. The pain. Creeping up his spine, painting his features one by one. But she averted her gaze, swallowing the bile crawling up her throat.
Her chest ached as she turned from him, but she did it anyway.
“Be careful,” was all he said as she passed through the mist.
A storm curled inside her.
She didn’t want to hurt him.
But after all, hurting was what she was good at.
* * *
The stone shifted with a soft grind beneath her fingers. Ancient mechanisms stirred awake, humming quietly underfoot. Her mind was a mess.
She feared she had crossed a line with Xander—one neither of them could return from. But she didn’t care, strangely, as much as she thought she should.
There was a feeling inside her, gnawing quietly beneath her ribs. It wasn’t regret.
It was sadness.
Because she had let him touch her. Let him make her feel something good for once—something warm, something human.
And she didn’t deserve it.
She told herself he didn’t love her.
He couldn’t.
She was the villain, and villains didn’t get their prince charming’s.
Most likely, it had only been the heat of the moment. Lust, desperation, two people clinging to something fleeting in the middle of a war they both knew might end them.
Still… the memory lingered.
And somehow that made it hurt even more.
The wall shuddered once, then a narrow seam split open, revealing the room where she had once been bound—the room where Xander had first found her.
She had expected only cold stone, damp and empty. Instead, the space was alive with something else.
Ellaryn’s blood ran cold.
“Well,” Damien breathed, his eyes lighting up. “Would you look at that?”
He turned toward her slowly, a grin stretching wide across his face.
“So Ruin does keep secrets.”
Her hand went to her sword.
“What are you doing here?” Ellaryn said as the wall closed up behind her.
“I could ask you the same thing, little Ruin.” He said, eyes scanning hers deviously.
“You followed me,” Ellaryn exhaled as she thought back to the way he looked at her in the castle.
“And good thing I did.” He said. “I don’t think the King would agree with all this sneaking around. Do you?”
“You tell the King about this, and I will make you wish you were dead,” Ellaryn growled, unsheathing her sword and holding it up to him.
“Now, now,” Damien warned, his voice low, sharp. “You do that, and I’ll make sure that little prisoner boy you’re so fond of… doesn’t wake up in the morning.”
Ellaryn’s breath caught in her throat.
Heat prickling behind her eyes.
Sailen.
How could he know?
“You think I don’t see you sneaking into the cells?” Damien sneered, stepping closer, eyes glinting.
“You don’t touch him,” Ellaryn warned—half threat, half pleading—her voice steady despite the fury coiling in her chest.
“I won’t… if you put down your sword.” His voice was too light, too uplifted for her liking. It infuriated her.
Ellaryn hated this. Hated the way he had control over her, even now.
“What do you want?” She tilted her head, studying him.
“I want to know what’s got you sneaking around.” He simply said, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.
She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t risk everything she and Xander had worked for coming undone.
“Then step away from the secret door,” he said, voice cold, unyielding.
Ellaryn didn’t move; she stared at him without blinking.
“Ruin!” he barked, and instinctively, she obeyed.
“Good girl,” Damien mocked, smiling, but there was nothing warm about it. “The King’s right—this is fun.”
But as soon as his fingers brushed the jutting brick, Ellaryn moved like smoke; her sword flashed through the dim light, steel singing as she drove Damien back.
He stumbled under the sudden ferocity of her attack, caught off guard by her speed, her precision.
Every strike was deliberate. Every step forced him closer to the wall.
For the first time, his smirk faltered.
“You know you can’t beat me,” Ellaryn snarled, blocking a blow.
She shoved forward, blade pressing to his chest, her boot braced against the stone.
She had him.
But she didn’t want to kill him. Didn’t want to take a life by choice. Even if it was Damien’s.
“I’m giving you a chance to keep your mouth shut.” She paused, sword braced against him, every muscle coiled. “Keep this secret, forget what you’ve seen,” she said, her voice cold and steady despite the adrenaline roaring in her ears.
“Or what?” Damien said, his breathing shallow as he stared down the blade.
“Or I will cut out your tongue—so you can never form a single word again.”
Ellaryn leaned in slightly, pressing the tip of her blade just beneath his chin, the steel grazing the soft palate, a razor-sharp warning that left no room for doubt.
“Do it.” He hissed, but in the same moment his hand twitched and pulled something from beneath his belt, impaling her.
Damien smiled as pain detonated through Ellaryn’s abdomen.
The force of it stole the air from her lungs. Her sword slipped from her fingers, ringing uselessly against the stone.
She gasped, dropping to one knee as the world tilted violently sideways, and warmth spilt down her side. Now he had her sword, and he was pointing it at her.
“I know you’re immortal, Ruin,” he snarled, each word dripping with venom. “But tell me… would you still survive without your head?”
His chuckle slithered through the air, cold and mocking, sending a shiver crawling down her spine.
“Fuck you.” She muttered as blood coated her tongue.
She was terrified—not of dying, but of the uncertainty.
Would she wake? Headless, blind, lost in some endless void?
Her throat tightened as she swallowed hard. This was not supposed to happen this way. She was not supposed to die like this.
The cold steel of the sword pressed against the soft skin of her throat, the subtle warmth of blood seeping down the ridge of the blade as he pushed it deeper. The fight inside her began to loosen. Her shoulders sagged, the strength she’d summoned slipping away. She could not fight anymore.
She had tried. She had failed. Her plan—so close, so tantalisingly within reach—and Damien—fucking Damien—was the one who had sabotaged it all.
But Xander could kill the King. She had done her part. Now… it would be up to him.
Ellaryn squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable, for the pain that would come, and for the bitter taste of failure that was already settling like ash in her chest.
Then the air shifted.
A streak of blue light cut through the shadows, smashing into Damien. He hissed as it slammed into his chest, sending him skidding across the floor. Another orb followed, crackling with energy, but he twisted just in time, dodging it and putting distance between himself and the source.
It was Xander.
Damien’s hands flew, throwing daggers as he scrambled toward the stairs, each step sharp and desperate. He reached the landing and disappeared into the streets above.
Ellaryn struggled to rise, every movement a battle against the burning pain in her stomach. She clawed at the floor, willing herself to follow—but her body betrayed her, weighted down by injury and exhaustion.
Her knees gave way as she collapsed fully to the floor, relief and disbelief washing over her.
Xander was beside her in a heartbeat, pressing glowing hands to her wound, his jaw clenched as magic poured into her torn flesh.
“Fuck,” Xander muttered. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
Ellaryn let out a shallow breath, tasting iron.
“I have to go after him,” She said through winces, eyes fixed on the stairs.
“You’re in no state to,” Xander breathed, hands still pressing down on her side. “Just let me finish healing you.”
She shook her head frantically, fear strangling her words as they left her lips. “No. He’s going to tell the King,” Ellaryn spat, clutching her wound as she forced herself upright. “He’s going to ruin everything.”
Her voice trembled, masking the anxiety that curled in her chest. “Why did you come out?! I had it handled,” she muttered, the words sharp—but false.
Because the truth was, she had almost given up.
While everything was collapsing around her, she bowed down and surrendered to it.
But she couldn’t let him see that. Couldn’t let him know how close she had come to losing herself, to letting everything fall apart.
Couldn’t admit that what was left of her soul found solace in the bitter irony—after taking so many heads, she was about to lose her own.
“It sure looked like it,” Xander said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, as he gestured subtly toward the freshly healed wound on her side and neck.
“When are you going to realise I can’t be hurt?” Ellaryn asked, voice low but sharp, the words slicing the air.
“We both know that’s not true,” Xander countered.
“You know what I mean,” she pressed. “I’m immortal. You risked everything coming out here, and for what?”
She was immortal… but even as the words left her lips, doubt gnawed at her.
She still wasn’t certain she would have survived that—maybe that was her true weakness.
Losing her head meant losing her life, and some part of her couldn’t shake the thought that immortality didn’t make her truly invincible. Perhaps she would never know.
“So you expect me to just watch you get hurt and do nothing?” he asked, frustration bleeding into his voice.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Well… I can’t. I just… I can’t.” His voice wavered, edged with desperation, each word hanging in the air like a fragile thread.
Ellaryn froze, her body instinctively twisting to face him. “Why?” she asked, her words laced with disbelief.
“I’ve watched for too long,” Xander’s eyes sparked with unshed tears as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just sit back while you take the pain for everyone else. I… I can’t.”
His eyes locked onto hers, steady and unmoving. For a moment, Ellaryn simply stood there, absorbing the weight of his words. Somehow—against all odds—she mattered to him. Not just as part of the plan, not just as a weapon, but as someone he genuinely cared about.
“This is why that was a mistake,” Ellaryn said slowly, quietly.
She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He knew. The closeness between them.
“You can’t get attached to me,” she continued, her voice tightening. “I’m going to die, Xander. It was a mistake.”
“Call it what you want,” Xander replied, his tone steady. “But it wasn’t a mistake, Ellaryn. Not to me.”
He stepped closer and gently tilted her chin upward. Their eyes locking for a fragile heartbeat.
“I’m already attached,” he said softly. “I think I lov—”
“Just… please.” Ellaryn pressed her hand against his lips, stopping the word before it could leave him. “I can’t hear you say that. P-please.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Xander saw the fear behind it—the guilt, the certainty she carried about her fate. Slowly, he took a step back.
For her, he would hold the words inside.
Even if it meant carrying them alone.
A heavy silence settled between them, filled with everything left unsaid.
Damien was probably running his mouth to the King—or would be any second. Ellaryn needed to get there. Needed to make sure Sailen was safe.
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Seal the wall, stay in your office. Don’t leave. The knights will be coming down here.”
“You can’t leave,” Xander said, his voice tight. “It’s dangerous. If the King knows…” He paused, the weight of the threat hanging between them. “Just stay here. We can go through the books together, then kill him.”
Ellaryn thought of Sailen. Her decision didn’t waver.
“I can’t,” she said. “Sailen.”
“Let me come with you,” Xander pleaded. “We’ll get him out and then come back here.”
“No, you need to research. Find out how to kill him first.”
He saw the resolve in her eyes. “I’ll find you,” Xander said.
And with that, she left.