66. Cycles Ago.
Cycles Ago...
“ M arcus, Marcus,” Cassandra Cythera whispered, grasping her husband’s neck, her fingers scratching the skin. They clawed as desperately as her words—she must reach him. “Thousands of people. You’ve doomed everyone who’s followed you. Trusted you.”
He kissed her forehead, gently. “Everyone but one, my love.”
Tears flew off the sides of her cheeks as she shook her head. “Marcus, no. Thousands dead, and the boy still alive. It isn’t worth it.”
“Thousands of lives traded to save yours?” There was no compassion in the Vaharilaran lord’s voice. Even love was just a calculation of value. Cassandra had great value to him. She understood who he was and she loved him anyway; there was no need to pretend with her, to wear a mask of empathy like he had to with the rest of the empire. “An easy trade to make, my love. Well worth it.”
“My life isn’t worth the end of the world.” Cassie’s voice was determination and grace, the perfect complement to her husband’s coldness and cruelty.
Another kiss landed on her forehead, firmer this time, and Marcus’ arms wrapped around her tightly. It would be the last time, after all. He would bring the feel of her supple, clinging softness with him to his grave very shortly.
“The end of your life would end my world. So it’s all the same, really.”
She shook her head and cried, but she knew he would not see reason. She loved him, but he had always been selfish. He was the best friend of the emperor and they were so alike.
She had gone to her husband with her worries about the Tapestry Unweaving. In urgent whispers over many moon-cycles in the privacy of their bedchamber, she taught him to see what she saw. The royal halfling boy, Caelan, had set the prophecy in motion.
But despite her faith and steadfast determination, Cassie could never have done what her husband did next. Marcus Rosa stirred thousands to follow him in a full rebellion against the crown, inspiring them with his false care for their wellbeing. He would give them better lives, he promised.
The truth was, he would’ve been the same as the emperor they had now. He would’ve taxed and oppressed them; he would’ve run with River of Madness red with demonic blood.
But he would’ve done one thing more, and this one thing was everything to Cassandra. He would have killed the emperor’s second son, who she believed would one day bring fire up from the depths of the world to melt it to ruin.
In the service of this belief, she’d given everything. She would have happily given her life. But it was not Cassandra’s choice.
“I regret nothing, my love. Nothing, nothing.” The Traitor pressed kisses into her neck and Cassandra let it all go. Her own hurt and shock and regret. She allowed the faces of the thousands who awaited death to slip from her mind as she melted into the warm softness of Marcus’ kisses. This would be the last time, after all, and she wanted to savor the sensations of him.
How incredible to be loved this much, she thought. How horrible, how beautiful.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Go far away from here and never come back, do you hear me? You must live, Cassandra. You must live or it won’t have been worth it after all. Promise me.”
She shuddered at the horror of what he demanded. Leave the demon halfling alive. Leave the world to melt and burn. But she never could refuse him.
“I promise.”
His strong arms left her. His hands were shaking a little as they drifted down her back and disappeared. The couple separated, each colder and more alone than before. Marcus’ face shaped itself into a mask of ice. The emperor, who’d been here all along, but silent, stepped forward now with a smirk on his face. He’d almost won and he was doing a bad job of hiding his pleasure. Cassandra would’ve liked to kill him, but she had no delusions that she could manage it with all the guards around.
“It’s time to go,” Marcus said. “You know what to do.”
She did. Run. Run somewhere far away and live. That was her end of the bargain. For her freedom, thousands of men would die tonight. Her husband would die. It was the agreement the two former friends had made. And the damned demon halfling would live.
Marcus’ most trusted men came in to drag her away, but Cassandra was not a woman who would be dragged anywhere. She squared her shoulders and shook the final tears from her cheeks. She held her head high, eyes blazing fire, as she walked of her own accord out of the room and away from her husband and her life.
As she crossed the threshold, she did not even think about her daughter and what might happen to her. She believed her safe in Tythos, in the Mouth. She would head there to pick her up before they fled south across the ocean.
If she’d known, how differently it might have gone.
Or perhaps it would have gone the same.
The emperor had the little girl brought in after the mother left. The Traitor’s face shuttered closed at the sight of his little girl. His wife would not approve, he knew, but the emperor’s terms were very clear.
Everyone died but one. And Marcus had made his choice.
Marcus covered his daughter’s ears as they watched the slaughter of his followers from the window in the tower. It was like a light show from up here, flashes of steel and torchlight as the city around the palace went up in flames.
In the morning, when the rebellion was dead and Cassandra had had enough time to get away, the emperor appeared again to escort his former best friend and his daughter to the dungeons. Far below the dungeons, actually, where the hungry mouth of a god waited to swallow them up.
The cavernous room that held the pit was very dim when they reached it, lit only by torches along the wall that cast deceptively warm, yellow light on the smooth, stone floor.
“You tried to murder my son, my blood,” Calathan hissed to his best friend. These would be their last words to each other.
“So you murder my daughter. You must think it fitting. But Calathan, please, spare my little girl.”
The emperor sneered. “I spared your wife. It’s more than you deserve.” He laughed. “Even now, when I’ve won, it doesn’t feel real. I can’t believe how much you sacrificed to save her. A woman! I’m ashamed I ever fought alongside a man so weak. Now say goodbye. Your last goodbye.”
So Marcus Rosa went to his little girl. He knelt before her and looked into her brown eyes. She clutched her stuffed doll to her chest. She was tired after the long night and didn’t understand the words he said to her. But that was okay. She wouldn’t even remember them until much later.