Chapter Fifty-One #2
The pit dropped out of Val’s stomach. This was no longer a personal matter of forcing the invader from his mind. If this continued, Penn and everyone else in Arnsveld would fall along with the mountain.
Determination powered Valerian’s attacks, each blow heavier than the last. Alistair struggled to block and dodge and had no time or opportunities to launch his own counterattacks. He was so focused on the swinging axe, that he didn’t see the flames spreading around their feet.
When the first ember touched his tree, pain flashed across Alistair’s features. His steps faltered and his head whipped around to gaze wide-eyed at the trees. The bright orange spark quickly devoured the pure white leaves.
Thinking he’d finally found an opening for a killing blow, Valerian brought his axe down with all his strength.
Alistair stepped aside at the last moment, barely dodging the attack.
Valerian’s momentum carried him forward and he crashed into the mage, sending them both through the tree’s white bark.
With the other memories, the transition had been seamless.
One moment, Valerian would be walking through the forest, the next he’d be sitting in a classroom.
This time was like jumping off a cliff. He could feel the years passing, see flashes of memories out of the corner of his eye, as they plunged into the abyss.
When they finally slammed down, the shift forced the breath from Valerian’s lungs.
Dazed, weak, he could barely see his surroundings and had no control of his body.
Yet he could feel his body moving, his arms clasped tightly behind his back as he paced a room.
“Dammit!” the voice coming from him didn’t belong to him or anyone he recognized.
“He hates me, I know it. He’s searching for ways not to make me his heir!
That’s the only reason he married her, isn’t it?
If he produces a spare, he’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of me. He might even kill me!”
“I would never let that happen,” another voice, young and earnest.
Valerian turned on his heel to look at the young man standing behind him.
Alistair looked barely twenty, though it was impossible to guess a mage’s age by their appearance.
His hair was a darker blond, though still fine and delicate as it framed a startlingly pretty face.
Those blue eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were as warm as the summer sky.
He grabbed Valerian’s hand, clasping it tightly to his chest. “You’ll be king one day, I promise.
I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.
Not just of this kingdom—every kingdom you set your heart to.
Do you want the whole world? Say the word, and everyone will bow before you. ”
“That’s quite the promise from a pretty little mage,” Valerian murmured. He raised his other hand to Alistair’s cheek, brushed an affectionate thumb over the smooth, youthful skin. “What do you ask in return?”
Alistair’s pale lashes fluttered as he nuzzled into the touch. “You know what I want.”
“Say it.”
“You.”
“To rule with me?” Valerian asked, the voice faintly amused. Usually, when he entered these memories, he could feel an echo of the emotions at the time. This time, everything was distant, as if the memories didn’t know how he felt during this scene
Alistair hesitated for a moment before saying, “Yes, to rule beside you.”
The next lines of the script supplied themselves to Valerian, but he swallowed them down, forced them into a mental cage so he could speak his own mind. “Who would ever want to be with you?”
Shock and hurt flashed across the young mage’s face. “W-what?”
“You’re a monster, Alistair. All you do is take, take, take.”
“Stop,” Alistair shook his head. He tried to pull away from Valerian, but he grabbed the mage’s jaw and held it firmly.
“Everything you touch, you stain in blood.” One of the memories Valerian had glimpsed during his descent hadn’t made sense at the time—just a rush of colors and sorrow—but it solidified in his mind now.
Alistair leaning over a coffin, looking at the dead king inside.
Most thought Jareth had died of old age—after all, a blood curse was hard to detect. “Even me, in the end.”
Alistair clawed at Valerian’s arm, drawing blood, but he couldn’t escape the grasp. Couldn’t escape the truth of his actions. “No!”
“I didn’t give you what you wanted, did I? No, I took a wife, made her queen, produced an heir with her. And you cursed me for it, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t! I wouldn’t! Jareth, please!” Tears streamed down Alistair’s cheeks. “I don’t care what it costs me. I will give you everything you ever wanted!”
“The only thing I want is to watch you die alone.” He wrapped both hands around the mage’s throat and squeezed.
Shadows crept in, the memory fading around the edges. Alistair choked and scrabbled at Valerian’s arm, but he was too young to fight back properly, and with Valerian changing the events of the memory, he couldn’t rely on the same old script. All he could do was struggle in vain.
The memory suddenly released its grip on them and spit them out onto the forest floor together.
The fires had continued to spread while they were occupied, now raging around them in an unstoppable inferno.
Valerian pushed himself to his feet as he watched the flames consume the white tree, encouraging them to grow higher, hotter, to destroy the invader in his mind.
Still lying dazed on the ground, Alistair suddenly screamed, drawing Valerian’s attention.
Flames licked up the mage’s arms, burned away his long white hair.
The smell of charred flesh filled the air as he burned alive.
The leaves on the ground caught fire beneath him.
With one final choked cry, his body seized and then suddenly went limp.
The fires continued to destroy what remained, even his ice blue eyes melting into death.
Val waited to wake up. To be in control again now that he’d defeated Alistair. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, basking in the warmth of his own destruction.
Nothing happened. He simply stood in the clearing as his mind burned around him.
A laugh spilled out of him, desperate and choked. “Guess I went too far,” he muttered as he turned in a slow circle. The fire had spread throughout his mind until every tree in sight was burning. His whole life turning to ash in front of his eyes.
Well, if I’m going to die, I’m not going to sit around and wait to burn. Valerian would rather die in the arms of someone he loved, and if he was lucky, he could slip so deeply into that love that he could forget what was happening.
It didn’t take him long to find the tree he wanted. Penn stood in the bathroom at Causley Estate, skin gloriously bare. His bright blue eyes narrowed in mischief as he beckoned Val to him.
Val ignored the growing flames and walked right through the bark. The heat eased to comfortable warmth. The pain disappeared from his mind completely as he smiled down at his lover. His hands settled on Penn’s hips, warm and clean from their recent bath.
Penn’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling Val closer. “You’re going to keep me up all night, aren’t you?”
“That’s the plan,” Val replied, his voice rumbling with a laugh. He dipped his head to kiss Penn, long and lingering, savoring the sweet taste of him as if it might be his last.