Chapter 18 Striking The Heart
eighteen
Striking The Heart
Zydar
The rain had been falling since dusk, thin and cold, beading along my skin and tracing slow rivulets down my spine. The training grounds for the high fae were nothing like the mortal pits—this arena was built to sharpen the lethal, not teach the clumsy.
Black stone walls rose in jagged arcs around me, laced with veins of stormlight that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.
The floor was a shifting plane of mirrored obsidian, slick beneath bare feet, reflecting the faint silver of the clouds above.
Carved pillars circled the arena, each one inscribed with runes that shimmered whenever the enchantments awoke.
Four projections stood around me—phantoms forged from light and storm, their bodies a flicker between solid and insubstantial.
Each carried a different weapon: a glaive, a chainblade, twin short swords, and a spear whose point glowed faintly blue.
They moved as one, circling me slowly, their feet silent on the glass floor.
I tightened my grip on my sword, breathing in the scent of wet stone and steel.
I'd lost count of how many times I'd fought these phantoms, how many times I'd watched them break apart into wisps of light before reassembling.
I'd mastered every move, every technique. I knew every weakness, every flaw.
And still, it wasn't enough.
As if sensing my resolve, the specters rushed forward, their weapons singing through the air. I twisted out of their path, my blade a razor edge of lightning as I sliced through their ethereal bodies. Over and over, I danced around their strikes, my feet light as shadow.
The specters changed tactics, splitting apart. Three circled me, weapons ready, while the fourth phantom lunged from behind, its glaive gleaming in the rain. I heard its attack before I saw it, and I stepped aside just in time, the sharp edge of the blade passing within a hairsbreadth of my neck.
Just then, a flicker of movement caught my eye beyond the shimmering boundary of the arena.
Miralyte.
She stood in the shadow of the archway, rain spilling over her hair and down the pale line of her throat, her face unreadable in the half-light. I'd told her the training grounds were off limits. Of course she'd come anyway.
Where was her supposed guard? Tomos, was it? Did he not care enough about her to keep track of her whereabouts? I thought they were friends.
At the thought of her and her “friend” whose name had made a blush bloom across her cheeks, I grew irritated again.
The nearest specter struck. I turned on it, my blade a flare of white-blue lightning that split its form clean down the middle. It dissolved into steam.
The others came at once, but I was already moving—one step, one swing, each cut precise, merciless. The rain hissed where it met the stormlight bleeding from my strikes. In the span of a heartbeat, the last phantom fell apart in a slow curl of mist, the runes on the pillars dimming back into quiet.
Silence settled, broken only by the patter of rain on stone. I let the blade fade from my grip, the last threads of lightning unwinding into the night air.
My gaze found hers again.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice low, though the words carried easily in the empty arena.
She didn't answer. She just stared at me, her eyes a burn of gold in the darkness.
"Where's your guard? Tomos?"
Nothing. Only that slow tilt of her chin, rain like liquid moonlight splashing across her cheekbones.
"Answer me."
Another beat of silence, broken by the hiss of rain on stone. And then, at last, she spoke.
"Riden died."
I went still. Riden was the sick boy in the healing dome, the one I'd seen her visit regularly. The one she cared about.
"When?" I asked.
"Earlier today." Her words were tinged with grief, and I could see the pain in her face. She took a step closer to me, the rain spilling over her shoulders.
"What happened?"
"He's been fighting the Rot for weeks," she replied. "The healers said there was nothing they could do. He just... slipped away."
I didn't say anything. The rain was a constant whisper around us, the stone walls swallowing the sound of our voices.
She looked up at me, her eyes fierce and burning. "It's your fault. If you'd let me go through with the trials, he would still be alive."
"Miralyte, there's nothing we could have—"
"Don't. Just don't. Don't tell me that there's nothing we could have done when there is." She gritted her teeth, her jaw clenched. "You commanded me to stop. You blocked me at every turn. And now... now..." Her voice broke, and she shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
I wanted to comfort her, to reach out and pull her close, to tell her that it would be alright, that I was sorry, that I'd never meant for anyone to die.
But I couldn't. She didn't want that, and even if she did, it was forbidden.
I was a Warlord, and she was my Vessel. She was not here for me to hold.
"Say something," she snapped, her eyes blazing with emotion. "Tell me it was worth it, tell me this was worth his life."
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
"Death is inevitable," I told her, keeping my voice steady and even. "Even if we'd succeeded, we couldn't have guaranteed we'd get to him in time to cure him. This is not your fault, Miralyte."
She shook her head. "How can you say that, after all that's happened? You brought me here. You stole me away from my family, my friends, my life! How can you not take responsibility for what you've done?"
"There's nothing we could have—"
"No! There is. There's always something. But you chose to ignore it, just like you chose to ignore my pleas, my needs. You had the power to save him, to save all of them, and you chose not to. Why?" Her voice wavered. "Why, Zydar?"
Her pain was a burning brand against my skin, twisting in my gut.
I'd caused this. Nevermind that we hadn’t figured out the cure yet.
With her daily blood donations, Riden had been just barely holding on.
But I thought back to Miralyte struggling to feed herself soup, Miralyte looking pale and struggling to walk; and I knew in my gut that I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
I stepped closer, the rain soaking through my clothes. The words caught in my throat, rough and grating. "I couldn't risk losing you."
Her amber eyes widened.
And then, just as quickly, her expression changed to something like rage.
"You had no right!" She slammed her palm into my chest, hard enough to make me stagger. "You had no right to take my choice from me! No right to keep my powers under lock and key. I could have healed him. I could have saved him."
I gripped her shoulders, shaking my head, trying to find the words to tell her that the only way to save Riden would’ve cost her her life. "Miralyte—"
"It's not fair!" She struck me again, her fist colliding with my chest. The force of it sent ripples of light over the obsidian floor.
"Miralyte." I caught her wrist, resisting the urge to pull her close. "Stop."
"You're heartless." Another blow, her fist quivering with rage. "I bet you don't even feel anything. I bet you kissing me was just another test." She shoved me backward, her eyes burning like twin suns.
"Miralyte."
"Don't even bother trying to deny it, Zydar. I know that's the only reason you ever kissed me. You thought if you could get me to fall for you, I'd give you everything you wanted. You thought you could manipulate me."
Thunder growled above us, sheets of lightning splitting the sky. A warning.
"That's not true," I said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep my voice calm. "I kissed you because I wanted to."
"Lies!" She spat, but I could see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
I stepped closer to her, the heat of her skin warm on mine. "I kissed you because I was selfish and greedy," I growled. "Mother above, don't you see how badly I wanted to?"
She glared at me, her face a mask of rain and moonlight. But I could see the flush rising to her cheeks, the quickening of her breath as I closed the distance between us.
We were eye to eye, barely a hand's breadth apart. I felt the arcs of energy snapping through her, like lightning striking in a summer storm.
The rules, the oaths, the promise I'd made all those years ago, burned inside me. "Don't you see how hard it is?" I whispered. "To want you and not have you? To be denied something I know would taste sweeter than the stars themselves?"
Her eyes searched mine, the anger and defiance fading into something else entirely. Fear. Confusion.
I brushed her hair away from her face, my fingers gentle on her skin. The rain misted over us, and the air hummed with the static charge of my power.
"Say something," I breathed, my voice raw and hoarse. "Tell me to stop."
But she didn't. Instead, she pressed her lips against mine, her kiss hungry and fierce. I melted into the sensation, our mouths coming together again and again in a passionate tangle.
I pulled her tight against me, reveling in her warmth and closeness. The darkness swirled around us, the clouds casting shadows across the sky. My body ached for her, and I couldn't hold back any longer.
I slipped my tongue past her lips, deepening the kiss. She tasted like summer rain, like wildfire and sunlight and stormlight, and I couldn't get enough. My hands roamed over her body, teasing and stroking, making her tremble with desire.
My body moved of its own accord, wrapping around hers, claiming her, refusing to release. With every moment, I fell deeper and deeper under her spell, losing myself in her touch, her taste, her scent.
The darkness pulsed and echoed with her power, and the faint glow of her eyes burned brighter than any star. She was the sun and the moon and the sky, all in one, and I was utterly transfixed.
I'd never wanted anyone like this, never lost myself to the pleasure and the passion. I'd never let myself be so close to someone, so vulnerable and exposed. It scared me and excited me, and all I knew was that I never wanted to let her go.
And then, suddenly, there came a great clap of thunder, a rumble that shook the very ground beneath us. The dark skies broke open, and the rain poured down in earnest, drenching us in cold rivulets.
I looked at Miralyte, her lips swollen, her hair tangled and damp. She stared back at me, her eyes wide, the flush rising in her cheeks. There was nothing but desire in her gaze, and I knew that no matter how forbidden or wrong it was, I needed more.
So I pulled her close again, kissing her fiercely. She returned the kiss, her lips parting in a moan. I could feel the heat of her skin even through our soaked clothing, and it made me ache for her even more.
I sank my fingers into her hair, tilting her head back so that I could deepen the kiss. My tongue stroked hers, sending sparks of pleasure throughout my body. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't stop.
Miralyte's hands found their way to the bare skin of my chest, her fingers sliding along the ridges of muscle. I groaned, the sound low and deep in my throat.
I didn't care about the dangers, the risks, the consequences. All I cared about was this moment, and what I was feeling. It was raw and primal, and I had to have her. Now.