Chapter 93
Andrian’s past few moments had felt like a waking nightmare.
Matheo falling.
Sebastian’s broken cries.
Mariah’s agony rolling down their bond like a suffocating wave.
All the blood had drained from Andrian’s body when he’d watched Mariah stand, a coy smile on her lips as she’d sauntered slowly toward Kol. If felt like shards of glass were twisting in his gut when he’d seen the way Kol had smiled back at her, the way he drank in her body like it was just for him.
Until Andrian had seen the flash of steel hidden behind her thigh.
He’d forced himself to stay still. To put his last bit of trust in her, to let her bring this final, desperate plan into being.
After all, what else did they have to lose?
The world fell still when Mariah’s dagger sank into Kol’s chest.
It hardly seemed real. The way the steel was buried so deep in Kol’s flesh only the black dragon wings on the cross guard were visible over the fabric of his jacket.
The dark god slowly blinked, as if he, too, felt the chilling effect of time.
His gaze drifted down, landing on the worn leather hilt.
Mariah released the dagger, taking a staggering step backward. Nausea roiled down their bond. Her chest heaved, knees and hands trembling.
Was that it? Gods, was it over?
“You did it, nio. You did it.”
Andrian thought he might’ve shouted his thoughts down their bond. His mind was too open, too frayed, too exhausted to know the difference. Could he dare to let himself feel relief? Could they dare to celebrate the end of all this—
Kol’s dark, rumbling laugh tore like thunder through the clearing before the ruins of the Salis house.
Any hope that had been building in Andrian’s chest died, snuffed out like a candle in the dark. The hairs rose on the back of his neck, a storm of dread rolling into the blood-stained meadow.
Kol slowly pulled the dagger from his chest. There was no blood, no residue, nothing.
Only a small flash of red-gold light before the clean silver tip left his skin.
Kol flipped the dagger in his palm, cocking his head at the simple weapon.
A curious expression washed over his face, flickering in the pale afternoon light.
The dark god shrugged, carelessly dropping the dagger. It hit the grass with a soft thud, one Andrian felt rumble through the earth.
Kol’s lips were moving, but he spoke too softly for Andrian to hear. Andrian reached for Mariah with his mind, desperate for a flicker. All he felt from her was emptiness—defeated, crushing, rioting emptiness.
It hadn’t worked.
The gods had lied.
It hadn’t worked.
Kol smiled. In that smile, Andrian saw the embodiment of every one of his deepest, darkest fears. All the little things that woke him in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, all the forgotten demons that would wash away beneath the scent of eucalyptus and jasmine.
His fear became a wild, piercing thing. He lunged forward, shadows unfurling from his hands like a whip. He might’ve screamed Mariah’s name, yet another empty shout slicing through the otherwise still air.
He was too slow.
Andrian could only watch, too far and too helpless, as Kol’s shadows—as sharp and deadly as any blade—plunged into Mariah’s chest.