Chapter 43 #2
“There’s a lot we have to talk about. I want the whole truth.
And still, I don’t know if I’ll ever get over your deception.
” I glowered, and although Dion had misled me, I had to resist the urge to touch the tip of his ear, briefly wondering if it would twitch under my touch.
Scolding myself, I dragged my attention back to the more serious matters at hand.
“I hate that I feel…somehow lured into a trap by you. You’ve been completely aware that the Rite would unveil your secret, and yet you kept silent.
It’s as if you manipulated me into something affecting me forever, only that I was missing half the facts I should have taken into consideration before making such a life-altering decision.
Also, I can’t help but ask myself what secrets you’re still hiding that you don’t intend to share with me. ”
I’d spent enough time with Dion to know that he was uncomfortable, and from the way his lips thinned and his magic pulsed with agitation, it was safe to say that there was more he was withholding from me.
“There are…a few things I can’t talk about yet.
But I promise I will. Soon. For you, I want to be what my mother intended me to be when she chose the name Dionadair for me.
” A hopeful smile and something akin to an invitation to ask questions appeared on his stupid, perfect face, and I couldn’t help but fall for it.
I cursed my curiosity, which momentarily won over my anger.
“What does Dionadair mean?”
“Defender.”
I suppressed a chuckle—I didn’t want to be amused, but the meaning fit him like a glove, at least exclusively from my point of view. This man…male…fae…ugh, whatever…had so many flaws, but protecting me was something that came naturally to him.
“And your other names? Do they have meanings as well?”
My inquiry earned me a scowl, and a disgusted snarl rang through the air, which wasn’t exactly a human reaction, like so many of the other quirks he constantly displayed—and that I’d ignored or rationalized.
“They do. And they were picked by insane male relatives of mine—my father and my grandfather. It’s a tradition for parents to choose a name each, one with meaningful significance for their child.
The third is usually picked by them together, but my grandfather decreed that he was entitled to bestow one upon me as well.
” He scratched his head in an almost boyish gesture.
“You bristle so much at the prospect of telling me your names’ meanings, but you have to confess. So, out with the truth,” I said, using this conversation as an attempt to calm both of us down and not succumb to the anger and hurt I felt.
Dion winced, but nodded. Obviously, his many names made him deeply uncomfortable, but that wouldn’t stop me from prying. After all he’d omitted, he deserved some unease. Was I petty? Definitely, but better to be petty than to lash out and say something I’d regret later.
“Well, I got Dorchadas from my father. It means Darkness or Dark One. He had something else in mind at first, but changed his mind spontaneously because it turned unnaturally dark for a few minutes when I was born. No one knows why that happened, but the event inspired him.”
“Hmm, weird. But well, it could be worse. I mean, you look like darkness personified, with you always wearing black and your hair swallowing the light and, of course, your magic.” I patted one of the tendrils, and it nudged my hand in return.
“It gets worse. My grandfather didn’t just pick something simple. No, he created the composed monstrosity that is Coroin De’An Scriosta, especially for me. That’s why, instead of the customary three names each fae has, I ended up with even more.”
“What does this so-called monstrosity mean?”
“Do I really have to translate?” Dion frowned, his features told me how uncomfortable he was.
I was even more petty and pushed on. His sensitivities were nothing compared to the betrayal I was dealing with. “Yes, you have to make up for your lies, and that’s where you’ll start. So, out with it, oh Dark One.”
Dion winced. It was obvious how touchy this subject made him. In a way, it was fascinating to watch this self-confident male squirm for once. “Well, you could loosely translate it as—The Crown of the God of Destruction.” He eyed me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.
“Huh. That’s…something all right. Exactly what you want for your child,” I said after a moment of letting that particular gem sink in. “Let me put it like this: I understand why you go by Dion.”
“That’s a relief. My grandfather always calls me Scriosta, even if it’s rude as fuck to call someone by something else but their favored name. He’s convinced I’m worth more on the battlefield as a destroyer, not a defender.”
“Your grandfather sounds like a real lovable man…fae, whatever.”
“Use male. Man is a human expression, just like woman. Fae don’t have their own terms, we simply use male and female, even in Galantian, our own language. In a pinch, person will work, or you can always use fae like you just did. It’s a lot easier in Galantian.”
I simply nodded. Dion showed relief that I was still talking to him and didn’t try to escape from his presence. The urge was there, to think about everything in peace, but there was no way this male and his magical minions would let me go, so much I knew.
“So, you became a soldier because your grandfather wanted you to?”
“Yes. This is the first time in forever that I’m away from the army. And well, you’ve heard about the letter.”
“Treason.”
Dion nodded.
“Before you shadowwalked us away, the figures coming out of that portal—they’ve been the High King’s people, haven’t they?”
“Most likely.”
I sank into silence, thinking about everything that had turned my world upside down in the last hour.
Dion’s glowing eyes burned into me—he was trying to read me.
Had I forgiven his lies? No, and I probably never would.
But we were bound, I felt it. His magic called to mine, and it should have frightened me, but it didn’t.
It felt right and safe, which was so contrary to what my mind was telling me.
“Naya, I’m really sorry.” Dion lifted his arm and extended his hand toward my face, but stopped at the last moment.
“Don’t.”
His jaw tightened, and I could see the hurt in his eyes.
I took a deep breath, trying to push down any feelings for him, focusing on his deception.
My forehead wrinkled when I noticed something on his arm, and I paused.
An intricate tattoo snaked around his wrist where his sleeve had slipped higher.
I squinted at the masterful pattern, and Dion followed my gaze.
“Did you always have this?”
“No. It came with the binding.”
I glanced at my own—unmarked—wrists.
“Nayana—” This was the voice Dion always used when he didn’t want to spook me, and I narrowed my eyes.
“Where?”
“Your neck.”
“Did you know that as well?” A fresh wave of anger coursed through me. Another thing he hadn’t told me.
Dion nodded, and his throat bobbed. “The humans based their wedding jewelry customs around the binding marks. Those are normally hidden under jewelry as well. It’s very…
intimate to display the actual marks to outsiders.
Thus, they’re covered up by a neck cuff and a bracelet.
I…brought some. Not the one you’ve worn before, but…
some I retrieved yesterday. I mean, only if you want to wear the piece I got you. ”
“So you conveniently forgot to inform me about that too? And just expect me to accept all of it? Shit, Dion, what else? What will you pile on top of that heap of garbage next? You know what? Keep your jewels. I definitely don’t want them.”
“You were told the magic would mark us with a visible sign.”
“But not around my neck!” It was getting harder and harder to swallow my anger. Sensing that we hadn’t reached an end of the godsdamned revelations yet, the fury inside of me burned bright and hot. After all this, he was still keeping secrets.
Dion scowled. “I fucked up, all right?”
“You knew the moment we’d agreed to this. You knew everything and still kept me in the dark. Because you wanted that power, isn’t it right?”
The bastard had the audacity to stare at me in an offended manner. “You think this is about power?”
“That thought isn’t that far-fetched, is it?”
“You know what? This is going nowhere. We should head to the library instead.”
Ah, he built up his icy walls again. He let go of my hand, and once more, it was his magic that released me much later and far more reluctantly.
I folded my arms, trying to ignore the painful pangs in my insides and the bitter taste in my mouth.
But even now, while his eyes were so distant and cold, he was full of beauty. Were all fae so gorgeous?
“Fine.” I turned toward the stairs when Dion’s voice reached me again.
“Twenty-four hours, Nayana. I’ll give you twenty-four hours. Then we’ll have the talk you agreed on.”
I let out a sound between a laugh and a snort. “There won’t be any talk as long as you still withhold things from me. Don’t even deny that you do.”
“Twenty-four hours. I will collect.”
Now, it was me who deflected. “The library. Now.”
For the last time, I let my gaze roam the beautiful crypt, casting a last look at the altar and noticed the wooden box still standing on it.
Dion really must have been out of himself to leave the relics behind.
Out of instinct, I rushed to it and picked up the case and the satchel Dion had used to transport it.
No matter what had happened, one thing was clear—I wouldn’t leave priceless relics behind.