CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
VESPER
Something was broken. Vesper was sure of it. Maybe a rib or two or, fuck, probably all of them.
He shallowed the rise and fall of his chest, but air felt equivalent to a handful of glass shards in his lungs, shredding him from the inside.
He’d become so bloody tired of this cell, he’d rather be shoved naked into a cardboard box and left at the mountain passage than stare at these walls a moment longer.
His cheek lay in a puddle of gods only knew what. It could be his own blood or piss or whatever leaked from the cracked stone overhead. He dwelled on how quickly everything had fallen apart and—
Nef.
Fuck.
Each time he sank back into the moment of finding her like that—his insides crumpled and he couldn’t breathe.
He would never make her laugh again. Gods, she was one of the only people he could talk to.
She never judged. Never looked at him as less than.
And she would never have her freedom. Never feel the wind on her face or the adrenaline of adventure.
And though all of that felt so selfish, it was her light taken from this world that was the most unjust. Like Izzy’s had been.
He choked back the emotion in his throat and squeezed his eyes closed. Then there was Cal. He hadn’t heard a scream or murmur since he’d sent Quill off. And that was maybe a week ago, though he’d lost all track of time.
Were they still alive? Because after that slice to Briar’s throat, and the spurting blood—
He couldn’t let himself think about it. Any of it. It sent him into a spiralling dark place he knew he wouldn’t rise from.
Then he saw Kyrith’s face and the knife pointed at her eye. Something primal inside him had snapped. And it wasn’t his broken ribs. He could almost taste her terror, feel her trembling, though her face gave nothing away. There was no way he was letting those fuckers touch her.
He needed to stay strong for as long as he could. To find a way out of here and trick Thellonius—best him long enough to get the upper hand.
He was a Merikh. A wolf.
He wouldn’t hide or cower.
He would draw blood.
But, right now, he was a pup in chains.
Vesper drifted in and out of sleep but didn’t dream. Didn’t find enough rest to enter the Divide or search for Izzy, though it was all futile now.
A quake against his cheek woke him, small at first. He assumed it was a trick of his imagination, or a consequence of so many knocks to the head, but when the trembling grew as if the earth shifted, he feared he may really be fucking losing it.
As he rolled onto his side, his ribs and shoulder shrieked in unison in obnoxiously different tunes and brands of pain.
Then the pebbles bounced in front of his nose and the dust stirred from the stone floor.
Whatever this power was, it shook the ground with enough force to sink the castle into the swamp beyond.
He sat up and scooted back against the wall.
The exertion sent a crack of pain through his abdomen, and he held his breath against it.
His legs shook violently under his weight as he used the wall to help him stand.
He craned his neck but couldn’t make out much in the darkness, only the shifting of shadows.
Another blast shook the castle and nearly knocked him on his ass.
Even the dull flame in the lantern across the room flickered with it.
When the cold, dank air heated around him, he realized there was only one person he knew who could wield that magnitude of power.
One person who had an untethered capacity for magic and rage.
And she had been called here.
The door flew open to reveal Thellonius with a small female thrown over his shoulder.
At the False King’s narrowed eyes, Vesper hit the ground so fast, he was shocked his ass didn’t go straight through the floor.
Thellonius wordlessly walked over and dropped Emmery’s limp body into the cell beside his.
As her head knocked against the cold stone floor with a dull thud, Vesper winced.
Rope bound her hands behind her back, and marks cut off her magic.
Vesper didn’t breathe as Thellonius stalked to his bars. “Try anything and you’ll regret it." He strutted from the room and slammed the door behind him.
Vesper scooted up against the bars of his cell and leaned his cheek against the cold iron. “Emmery?” he whispered.
She didn’t stir and her breathing was ragged—too fucking ragged.
He watched as she slept, praying it didn’t stop.
Water dripped from the roof onto her forehead and washed away the putrid black blood to reveal a shallow cut along her temple to her cheek.
From the impact on the castle, she must have expelled a ridiculous blast of magic, yet her vestige still shimmered like starlight, even through her restraints.
Otherwise, she appeared unharmed. Which made sense, because why would they call her here only to hurt her?
They wanted her for something. And he was bloody sure it wouldn’t be good.
A dull pang of guilt shot through his chest. Couldn’t he have just kept his shit together? He should have known that Emmery wouldn’t let them rot here. She was a bloody martyr, unlike himself.
His own consciousness wavered, but he kept an eye on her. Refused to let her down again. When Emmery finally stirred, she rolled onto her back and hissed a very pissed off noise. Her silver hair dragged through the dirty puddle as she lifted her head. As she turned her face, she caught his eye.
He croaked out, “What the fuck were you thinking, Emmery?”
She struggled to sit upright and replied, “You called for me, remember? Someone needed to save your sorry ass.”
Her voice cut through him. How much he missed her, how bloody dismal this situation was, and how he’d ruined everything again plagued him. “That fucking prick of a bird. He wasn’t supposed to even go to you. I see he was irritatingly obedient as always.”
“I’m not sure you can blame him. Your message was loud and clear. And if you think I was going to let someone else get a piece of you before I did, you’re sadly mistaken.” She stared at the ceiling.
He could barely make out her face in the dark, but something was … off about her. Too jovial? Or maybe she’d really knocked her head. “Emmery?”
She turned to him and blinked a few times.
“Are you feeling alright?” He tilted his head at her. “You’ve just been captured but you seem—” Unconcerned. That was the word he was looking for.
“I have a bit of a plan,” she murmured. She shuffled closer to him. “Do you know where everyone else is? Where’s Briar?”
He shook his head as his breath caught, and not from his battered ribs. “She’s … here.” At least he prayed she still was. “And they kept us separated. I’m surprised they put you in here.”
“Me too.” Emmery shrugged. “I suppose they’re not as smart as they look. And they look like morons.”
Vesper suppressed a laugh, and his ribs screamed.
He knew she saw him attempt to hide his wince.
Her eyes skated over his body and rounded.
He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in however long he’d been here, but he could only imagine what he looked like.
At least the swelling in his eyes had gone down enough that he could see.
“Just an observation, but your shoulder is dislocated again,” she said.
Vesper narrowed his eyes. “Yes, Emmery. I’m aware.”
In the silence of the sad, dank cells, they shared a long look. And maybe she was also reminiscing about the night she’d put his shoulder back in. It was the first real moment they’d felt like friends, and now it seemed so long ago. So much had happened.
The longer she looked at him, the more her gaze softened, and her bottom lip wobbled.
“When Quill showed up, at first I was so damn angry. And then, I realized—” Her breath caught on a sob.
“That if something happened to you, if that was the last conversation we ever had, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
And I—” Her eyes flicked to the ground and lifted to meet his.
“Despite what you did, I still missed you.”
His eyes pricked with tears. “I missed you too. I never wanted to pull you into this. And I’m still really sorry, though I know that doesn’t fix this. I wish I could take it back. I really do.”
“I got all your letters,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you knew that many words.” They shared a quiet laugh, though his was more of a wheeze.
“I wanted to show you I meant what I said,” he replied, his throat burning with emotion. The letters were the only way he thought he could reach her after she’d shown him Maela’s. So he’d poured himself into those pages.
“I—well, thank you for your honesty and about what you did before … despite the bargain and whatever deal you and Dez made, you really did save me. I wish things could have been different.” She rubbed her face with her shoulder. “I read every single letter, about a dozen times and—”
Footsteps sounded down the hall, the rhythm offbeat and punctuated by the dragging of limbs.
Emmery snapped her mouth shut and slumped back against the wall to feign sleep.
As the creature lumbered into the room, its unnatural decay struck Vesper in the face.
It crossed the room, halted at his bars, and sniffed, before it turned to survey Emmery.
Without another thought, he said, “Hey, asshole. Come back to play?”
The creature jerked back to him, preternaturally fast, and grasped the remains of his tattered shirt through the bars.
It shrieked in his face. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut until it ebbed, but the creature struck him.
His head cracked to the side as stars exploded behind his closed lids.
Another blow landed, hard enough to rattle his teeth. When it released him, he slumped to the ground. Blood streamed from his nose again and trickled from his split lip. Seemingly proud of itself, the creature shuffled from the room.
Emmery opened her eyes and her brows pinched as she spotted the blood gushing from his nose. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, gently.
Metallic thickness flooded his mouth. He turned his head and spat it onto the floor. “I didn’t like the way it was looking at you. And what’s another bruise? I’ll add it to my collection."
Somehow, she was able to step over her arms by bending them in some fucked up way that made his stomach churn.
And once she did, she caught a few drops from the crack in the ceiling in her hands until she had enough to scrub her face with.
That’s when he caught sight of her hand in the soft lantern light. Her left hand, to be exact.
Up the sides and wrapped around her wrist was an iridescent inscription he didn’t recognize. He squinted in the dark, trying to make out the tiny markings. And on her palm, was a bird and something he couldn’t quite make out in the dim light. “Tell me you didn’t make another pactum, Emmery.”
With a sheepish grin, she said, “No, I didn’t make a pactum.” She flashed the phoenix and what appeared to be a saber. “I made a blood oath. Or a couple.”
His jaw slackened. “You’re joking, right?”
“Mmm, no.” She scooted closer and offered her bound hands through the bars. “See?”
After he studied the oaths laid bare, he blinked at her. A strange light flickered in the depths of her gaze. Happiness, he realized. “So you found the man you were looking for. This is with him, right?”
“No,” she said slowly, and chewed on her cheek for a moment. “So, you’re not going to like this, but—”
His stomach sank. “Don’t tell me.” At her guilty grin, the words snapped out of him. “Fuck, not him, Emmery. Come on. Anyone but him. Literally, anyone else. Have you learned nothing? What is that—is it a votai and something else?”
“And sterke,” she murmured. She pulled her hands back. “Look I know the two of you have history, but Dez isn’t as he seems. He’s—” She blinked and something lingered in her eyes. Something he hadn’t felt himself, but he saw when Briar gazed at Cal.
“Oh gods,” Vesper whispered. “You fucking love him, don’t you?”
She leaned against the bars and nodded.
“This isn’t simple. This is for life,” he breathed, so defeated. “Gods, Em, why would you fall for him? How could you let that happen?”
She pulled her mouth to the side and stared at the floor. “Because my heart didn’t give me a choice.” Her humour disappeared, and her wide eyes grew glossy. “And now everything has gone to shit.”
He bit back everything he wanted to say.
It was too late now anyway. Those bonds with Destonne were her choice.
Her mistake. Fuck. He’d have to support her however he could.
He cleared his throat and mustered, “It’s alright.
It’ll be alright.” He watched helplessly as she wrestled with her composure.
“I wish I could hug you, but my bloody arms are bound.” He moved so she could lean her forehead against his good shoulder through the bars.
She sobbed a heavy breath and was quiet for a long stretch before she murmured, “I feared you might be dead.”
“That was months ago.”
“Don’t remind me asshole,” she grumbled. “And you smell terrible.”
“This hasn’t exactly been a spa day. The help isn’t very accommodating.”
She rubbed the backs of her bound hands over her eyes as she collected herself. He winced as he watched her struggle.
“Okay, Sparky,” he drawled. “Tell me of this magical, brilliant plan you’ve cooked up.”