18. Tassarion
Tassarion
Greedy as an ashbat for blood, I watched Nahomie sleep like the dead.
I usually made sure her braids were tucked away in the finest silk bonnet we had.
But for the last three dawns, she’d been irritated in her sleep, tossing and turning so much that the bonnet kept slipping right off.
This time, I left her hair alone. Saundeiah had removed all the beads, but her braids beautifully spilled over the pillows and sheets like a waterfall.
Her light snoring was my only sign that she was okay.
Zemshaza’s curse coiled through my body, tainting my blood and threatening to decay me further from within.
My hysteria spiked. I’d found the angel with Nebulae fire in her blood.
I’d bonded with her. She bled when we sealed our bond.
And yet. This wretched curse was still here.
And getting worse. Now the Fallen King not only afflicted me, but he afflicted my wife, too.
“It may be a few more dawns before she rises on her own, mi Roi.”
“That’s too long,” I bellowed, wrenching away from Nahomie’s side.
An entity inside my body, which I couldn’t control, stoked my wrath.
I exploded on my Nanmiess involuntarily.
Saundeiah flinched, squaring her shoulders.
To her credit, she didn’t pull away from me. I shook my head, holding my temples.
“I’m sorry, Saunie. I...”
I lowered my head in shame. My stomach twisted into knots. I bowled over, wincing in pain. My ethèr thrashed erratically. Souls appeared around me, then disappeared just as quickly, as if my powers were glitching. What in the actual rot was happening to me?
“Mi Roi!” Saundeiah was instantly at my side. She held me with the same gentleness she had when Manmi first gave birth to me. Saundeiah was there to hold me then, and here she was now, so many centuries later. “You’re worsening.”
“Every dawn, Saunie.”
I looked back at Nahomie, where she slept soundly. Every now and again her ethèr would rise, curling up and down her bare arms like sable serpents seeking escape. After the curse of the manor attacked her, I’d narrowly pulled her from its grasp. She’d fallen unconscious. Stopped moving.
Stopped breathing.
And it was all my fault.
If only she knew my curse wasn’t just on me. But it was transferred to my home, too. And now it had been given to her. For the first time in a long time, I felt what I thought I’d left behind in the Belial Realms.
Fear.
I looked at her beautiful face nestled into Manmi’s pillows.
She took a breath now, pulled her knees in, wrapped her arms around one pillow, and curled into a fetal position, snuggling into the covers.
Unbidden, my lips parted into a smile. Rot.
Our bond was nothing more than a covenant to ensure commitment to a bargain.
And yet. I looked at Nahomie again. I was ready to wake her up and replace that pillow with myself.
“No,” Saundeiah grabbed my arm as I took a step towards the bed. “She needs… to rest, mi Roi.”
Yeah, and I needed her.
Another violent thrash of my powers sent me reeling.
I snarled, bending over as if I’d been punched in my gut.
“Rot.”
“Nadege, quick!” Saundeiah snapped. “Get me his tonic. Now!”
Gentle hands squeezed my shoulders, trying to stabilize me.
“Breathe through it, mi Roi. I am right here.”
I clutched my stomach.
“Tassarion.” A pregnant pause. A freezing chill brushed across my shoulders. “My Slave.”
No, no, no.
“Open the Gate. Give me the Seraphim. This will all go away.”
I ignored the voice that plagued me every dawn and twinight. The voice of an angel foul enough to defile my blood, hoping I would break and offer my island for my freedom. Fool. I would never be so repugnant.
I would die before Mortevain would ever be given to Zemshaza. I trembled violently, gripping my chest. My blood burned. An acidic trail snaked through my body, setting me aflame from within.
“Saunie,” I whimpered.
I fell to my knees, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Stars. How I desperately missed Manmi. Papi. Both of them would have known what to do. How to make this stop. How to rid me of this torture and pain. I also thought of the Infinite.
How much had I offended him for this to be my plight every dawn?
I crashed onto the floor, my face buried in the rug. I howled with pain. Tears burned my eyes, but I would not let them fall. Not again. I tried to breathe. Tried to gain control.
“Give. Me. The Gate. And the Nebulari, Slave.”
Primal rage surged within me.
I would never let him have Nahomie.
A wave of darkness swelled within me. It was like poison to my bones. My vision faded as another essence began taking up space in my mind.
“No!” Saundeiah cried from somewhere above me. Then. “Madame. Madame Nahomie, wake up!”
“Saundeiah?”
Nahomie’s groggy voice filled my ears. The sound of her voice was enough to help me breathe. I closed my eyes and took a breath. Then another.
“What in the burning stars is going on?”
Her voice. Blessed lights. Thank the Infinite for my wife’s voice.
I held onto it as if my life depended on it.
“Monstaru?” A deep yawn. “Saundeiah, what is wrong with my king?”
“Help him. Please! Nadege hasn’t returned with his tonic, and the curse is trying to take hold. Do something,” Saundeiah cried.
“Questions,” Nahomie grumbled. “I have so many questions. But for now...”
Nahomie’s hands were soft like earth. Warm like flame. Soothing like the sea. She took hold of my face and held me like a precious stone. I choked for air. It had been over eight centuries since I was last held like this. Touched. Caressed. Soothed.
The moment Nahomie took me into her hands, my spirit, my soul, was instantly at ease.
Blackfire seeped into my body, my bones, my blood, and calmed every tainted part of my being, temporarily conquering my inner darkness.
For some time, all she did was hold me while quietly singing a melody with a voice so pure I almost cried.
“Tassarion Celèstian,” Nahomie cooed. “If you wanted my attention, waking me up for a stroll on the beach would have sufficed.”
She giggled easily, brushing her fingers through my hair after removing my crown, relieving the pressure on my temples. Unable to withhold them, tears streamed down my face as I let myself be held.
“Emélie,” I breathed, calling her middle name. The malevolent grip on my body finally released me. “Thank you.”
I held onto her, unable to let go. Breathed in her scent, relaxing into her arms. I felt our bond strengthening, the thread of gold growing thicker between our souls. Even if I didn’t have the wings to say it out loud, I knew.
This wasn’t just a contract.
This was real.
“What was that?”
Nahomie looked down at me with those enthralling amber eyes. I pressed my lips to her throat, lingering on her skin, before I pulled away to respond. I considered feeding her some bullrot to hide the truth. But what in the hèls would be the point now that we were both in this deep?
“A... my curse.”
Her eyes widened. She squeezed my shoulders.
Pulled me tighter to her chest.
“I’m listening.”
Relentless, undeterred, stubborn female. Rot. I adored her.
Where did I even begin to explain?
“When I was about to escape captivity, my captor grabbed me and cursed me before I crossed through the Realm Portal.”
“Okay, so break it.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not like I was hexed by a Lougawès, Phantimèssa.”
“Oh?” she tilted her head. “The only ones I know who go around dropping curses like this are Lougawès and Witchdoks. This wasn’t from a witch or a witch doctor?”
“Worse.”
Nahomie frowned, her eyes narrowing.
“Worse.” She arched an eyebrow. “The only ones worse than those who operate in dark majik are...” She shook her head. “But it isn’t possible.”
“Yes, it is.” I held her burning gaze with mine. “Say it,” I said, leaning towards her. “Who is worse than Lougawès and Witchdoks, Phantimèssa?”
Her nostrils flared.
“The Fallen.”
I gave her a sad smile.
“Bingo.”
Nahomie fell quiet. I watched her, following the shift of emotions on her face as she connected the missing dots of my story in her mind. Her intelligence astounded me. It wasn’t long before those wide eyes fell to me with a fresh sheen of tears clinging to her lashes.
“Oh, mi Monstaru,” she cooed, petting my hair. “I am...” Nahomie was at a loss for words. “I am so sorry.”
I turned away, unable to deal with the emotions flooding me all at once.
Feelings I hadn’t felt in too long. Feelings that had remained hidden, locked away.
Until Obsidian brought her crashing into my world.
Nothing had been the same since. I couldn’t handle facing my grief.
It’d been over eight centuries and I still wasn’t ready.
So I turned to what I knew.
Rage.
I pulled on my anger, strengthening the walls around my vulnerability.
With every bit of emotional strength I retained, I hardened myself.
Then the doors of the bedchambers burst open, slamming into the walls.
I leapt out of Nahomie’s arms, Soul Bending power already swirling in my palms as the small ghosts spun like a small storm.
Nahomie jumped into a low crouch, blackfire flooding into her palms. She looked exhausted, still weakened from the attack.
She was recovering, but hadn’t completely healed yet.
Seeing how quickly she launched into action both aroused and unnerved me.
She carried power in her blood, rumored to level worlds.
But in our home, I didn’t want her fighting. Defending herself.
Not because she couldn’t.
But because she didn’t have to.
“I’ve got this, Everheart.” I caressed her side of the bond with my ethèr. Slipping in front of her, I blocked her body with my wings from the intruder. “Rest.”
I didn’t have time to process the small, strangled sound Nahomie made when she lifted her eyes to me. They shone brightly with fresh tears and an emotion I couldn’t quite understand.
“Reveal yourself before you forfeit your life,” I snarled, waiting for whoever it was to show themselves in the candlelight.
Obsidian stormed through the doors, his eyes burning like molten flames. The Gargorètti wore a vicious grin that terrified even me. The hair on my arms stood on end. I pulled my wings into my spine. Nahomie took a peek around my legs, looking to see who it was.
“Tassarion, is Obsidian alright?” Nahomie whispered. Her voice shook with terror at the sight of my bloodthirsty gargoyle. “Why does he look like that?”
“Obi...”
“We found him.”
I stilled. Every last one of my senses heightened, zeroing in on the gargoyle and the words coming out of his mouth. He couldn’t possibly mean...
I waited with bated breath.
“He’s alive, mi Roi. They all are.” Obsidian grinned, baring all of his flesh-tearing fangs. “We found Marcèllian Beauradèl.” A beat. “And his entire family.”