Chapter Ten
Legend
My footsteps slow the closer I get to the gifted, like the air grows thicker and more resistant as I approach. Some invisible force pushes against my chest, urging me to turn around and run back the way I came. But not to get away…to find.
Confusing fucking—
I kick the door in and stand at the threshold staring straight at the strung-up gifted, magical chains bolted to the hall above his head, keeping him in place. Shoulders hunched over, sucking in deep breaths, his head hangs low between each shoulder, as if my entrance does nothing to bother him.
Creed moves to block my view. “Hold up. Don’t go all fucking Legend on him just yet.”
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
Neither of us moves, and it’s the gifted’s laughter that breaks through the tension. He lifts his head, eyes rimmed red and feral in a way I recognize because I see it in my own reflection every goddamn morning.
A smirk splits his bloody, cracked lips. With the wound in his abdomen still unhealed and Silver’s patchwork being the only thing holding him together, he should be dead. And yet, he still has the audacity to look smug. “Legend, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “I take it your last name is Deveraux?”
My spine locks. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, and the air between us thickens. It shouldn’t be a surprise. People know who we are—it’s us who don’t know them.
I hesitate, eyes narrowing. The way this fucker said my name sounded less I know of you, your majesty and more You walked your muddy fucking feet through my sandbox without permission.
“What’s the matter, princess?” I tease. “I fuck your mom or something?”
Creed’s hand presses firmer against my chest. “Legend.”
I shove past him.
The exile’s laughter cackles through the air. “Nah, I wish. Maybe you would have been enough for her to stick around.”
Ignoring his obvious relaxed demeanor, I step closer. “How do you know my name?”
He holds my stare as he contemplates his response. “Everyone knows your name, King.” He lets the title drip off his tongue. “Question is… Do you know mine?”
He’s fucking mocking me.
Underneath the blood, the bruising, and the impossible fact that he’s breathing at all, there’s something else. Something that makes the heat between my shoulder blades flare dragon-fire hot.
Creed steps beside me. “Don’t engage. We don’t know what he is.”
“I know what he smells like.”
The gifted’s smirk falters. Just a fraction. Just enough for me to catch the shift before he buries it.
“Interesting,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to my fists. White-knuckled and shaking at my sides. “She did say you were rather perceptive.”
She.
A low rumble builds in my chest and I clamp that shit down.
“But she didn’t say shit about her.” He nudges his head to Arabella. “Though it makes sense now. She’s quite…excitable when she’s rage-y.” Another fucking smirk and I’m five seconds away from cutting it from his skin.
Not wanting to reveal what’s happening inside me, I shift gears.
“What’s this?” I hold the only part of the mask that didn’t disappear into the fucking grounds: the horns. They vibrate beneath my palm, warming every inch of my skin until it damn near hums in satisfaction.
They also wipe the smugness clear off the exile’s face as he pales. Interesting. I turn to Knight, but he’s already looking to Creed for answers.
“I sure hope you’re ready for what comes next.” The gifted presses back up, eyes pinned on me. “But more than that, I hope you fucking deserve what I’m told is yours. Seeing that thing beside you, I’m not convinced you do.”
Arabella’s chin lifts, slow and deliberate. “You’ll be dead by nightfall,” she says, like the decision is hers to make. Why does she think she holds that authority?
I notice the slight tension in her jaw. The way her fingers curl at her sides.
I intercede. “Nobody said anything about killing him.”
The gifted cocks his head as he studies her and sneers, “Demands like a queen but wears no crown. No bite. No bond.”
“Legend!” Arabella’s composure cracks and her jaw drops in clear offense. “Why are you letting him speak to me like that?”
Good question. I ask myself the same thing, turning the words over and waiting for the answer to surface.
It doesn’t.
I don’t give a fuck. I genuinely, completely, do not give a fuck how he speaks to her. And that bothers me more than the words themselves, because I should. If someone even so much as breathed near—
Something in the air shifts.
My attention cuts to Arabella.
Her narrowed eyes fixate on our unwanted guest. Whatever magic she’s using—it’s subtle. She does this. Argents fucking do this. You don’t know they’re using magic until someone is fucking dead on the floor.
Before I can intervene, the magic suddenly stills—suspended in the air. At first, it seems like she stopped on her own. But it’s not her. It’s him.
“What’s the matter, little snowflake?” He mocks, face drunk on amusement. “Did the little Argent’s song lose its tune?”
My brows furrow as Arabella visibly tenses.
“You’re lying little magic won’t work on me,” he boasts. “And if it doesn’t work on me, then…”
His words clearly resonate. Arabella glares and the man chuckles lowly.
“Enough,” I snap, pushing closer until I’m inches from the gifted.
“Do it,” he breathes, quiet enough that only I can hear him.
“Do what?”
“Inhale. You know you want to. No, I bet you need to because she is peace in a way that stand-in could never be. So go on, king, fill yourself with the only thing of her you’ll ever have—
My fist connects with his jaw.
“Legend!” Creed grabs my arm but I yank free, pushing closer to the man until my chest is shoving his and he slams back into the wall.
He grins, blood slipping from the corner of his mouth and running down his chin. “You held it in your palms.”
My jaw tightens. “You don’t get to ask questions.”
“I wasn’t asking.” His eyes gleam faintly, something feral under the exhaustion. “I can feel it.”
Creed stirs beside me. “Enough games. Tell us who you are.”
The gifted’s gaze flicks to him, turning his back to me, and I don’t miss the way his attention keeps circling home.
“You think you’re whole,” he says quietly, and the temperature in the room drops. “That’s what makes this so fun.”
“You keep talking like you know me,” I say evenly. “You don’t.”
He studies me for a long second, and I can almost see the calculation running behind his eyes. “No,” he agrees. “I don’t know you.” The pause stretches. “But I know the part of you that’s missing.”
The room goes still.
My magic doesn’t spike or lash out in defense. It tightens again, coiling in my spine, pressing outward like it’s waiting for instruction—but for what?
“Legend, you should go.” There’s no brotherly softness in Creed’s tone. “Let me handle this.”
The gifted’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “What was lost has been found. What was stolen has been claimed.”
My fingers curl slightly at my sides.
Knight shifts his weight and Sinner straightens off the wall. They’ve been so silent I nearly forgot they were here.
“Found what?” Arabella demands.
The gifted’s lips twitch. “Do you know the answer, King Legend?”
My pulse hits hard against my temples, an ache digging deep into my bones, and I swear it feels like a hollow cavity rotting deeper. I keep my focus locked on the male. “Explain.”
He exhales slowly, as if savoring the moment. “You think you served punishment, but you didn’t,” he continues, voice rough but gaining strength. “You did exactly what fate intended you to do.”
Arabella stiffens behind me and my brothers are at my side in an instant.
The gifted tilts his head. “It’s only a matter of time now.”
“Until what?”
“Until fate wins. And fate. Always. Wins.”
The hellhound leashes flare again as his back arches slightly, but he doesn’t cry out. He smiles, blood wet along his teeth. “They’re here,” he whispers.
I jerk forward. “Who?”
He ignores me, his attention on Arabella. “I hope you like the color red,” he murmurs. No sooner do the words leave his lips than the sirens sound, the castle erupting in chaos around us. “She sure does.”
My face falls instantly.
And then I’m tearing through the fucking castle like it’s the last thing I might ever do.
I don’t know where I’m going, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Rather than leashing my instincts like I have been doing for fucking days—maybe even weeks—I let them fucking free to take control.
I break out the castle doors, pushing right into the chaos of at least a hundred fucking guards who immediately step out of the way. And on the other side.
Her.