Chapter 30 Sariel
SARIEL
T he tent was dark, lacking even a candle, but Isabelle was still awake when Sariel slipped inside. He knew she would be. She’d be awaiting his return.
“Sariel?” she asked, sitting up in her bed. He saw her every curve, saw her hair fall across her face and neck, in desperate need of brushing. She wore only a long, thick shift that exposed her muscular arms. Her golden eyes seemed to glow in the night, visible without any need of his radiance.
Sariel did not answer. He walked to her bed, flipped his sword, and then jammed the blade into the soil so it would remain standing.
Isabelle reached for a little dresser positioned beside her bed and pulled out a tin holder and candle.
She did not seek out a tinderbox, but instead lit it with a brush of her thumb and forefinger, sparking it with a flash of her golden radiance.
Somehow the light only made the room seem smaller, her features that much harsher.
“Is it done?” she asked.
Sariel met that golden gaze. “It is.”
She set the tin down, brushed a bit of hair away from her face, and then met his gaze. Her will was iron. There was no relief in her voice. No joy, either. Just satisfaction.
“Then you have done well. You have my gratitude, Sariel.”
Images flashed through Sariel’s mind. Brutal ones, caked with blood.
“Gratitude,” he whispered. “I do not want your gratitude.”
His right hand was around her throat before she could move. His left grabbed the wrist of the hand reaching for the dagger she kept with her when she slept. His fingers constricted, holding her there, as her eyes bulged. She wasn’t panicking, not yet, but she was close.
“Who are you?” he asked her, his voice a whisper. “Who are you truly?”
He relaxed his grip enough so that she might answer.
“I am your queen.”
“But you want to be more than a queen. You want to be empress. You want all of Kaus united under your banner. Do not deny it. You reek of ambition.”
Her smile was all teeth when she answered.
“Yes, Sariel, I will be empress. Leliel has promised me a throne.”
“Enough!” He slammed her to the bed, his weight atop her, his hand still on her throat. Their faces were so close, their noses nearly touched. He peered deep into those golden eyes, seeking the truth within them, and the explanation for radiance so powerful.
“The goddess doesn’t exist,” he whispered into the dark. “Leliel is a lie. You have been promised nothing. Tell those fables to the populace to win their support, but do not dare tell them to me .”
She rose, her back and shoulders straining, so that her lips could press to his ear.
“I don’t care what you believe, Sariel, so long as you serve.”
Sariel felt keenly aware of her every movement beneath him. Her legs, wrapped about his. Her free hand, pressed to his chest, not pushing him away, nor drawing him closer, but spreading her incredible warmth through him. That gaze, indomitable to the last.
His fingers left her throat, and he withdrew from the bed. His heart hammered within his chest, and it felt like he had been holding his breath.
“What I did tonight,” he said, glancing at Redemption.
Forever free of the stain of any blood it shed.
If only Sariel could say the same of himself.
“I have to know it was worth it. I have to believe it will lead to a future worth embracing. I will not put you upon a throne to be a tyrant or a monster, Isabelle. Mitra’s crimes are many, but I know he believes himself righteous.
That is what drives him, even if it is to places he should never go. You, though?”
He turned back to her.
“You, I trust not.”
Isabelle stood, and though she wore such meager garments, she held her head proud and regal. Her voice hardened. No more whispering.
“I will destroy the church that would laden our people with lifetimes of sins. I will unite the little kingdoms that have slaughtered countless generations with petty wars born of greed and personal vendettas. I will bring about a peace, and prosperity, that benefit all of Kaus’s people, not just her lords, kings, and queens.
A land of justice and mercy. That is what I will create. ”
Sariel shook his head. “The Heartless King sought to do the same, and we all know his final legacy.”
“My legacy will not be one of slaughter and cruelty.”
Sariel ripped his sword free of the dirt.
“Will it not?” he asked, and moved for the exit.
“Wait.”
He stopped. That he did upset him greatly.
Redemption’s hilt gently turned within his grasp.
He glared at Isabelle, but that glare did not last. Radiance blazed like fire within her irises, her power let loose for him, and only him, to see.
Golden threads floated like mist from the corners of her eyes.
The darkness retreated from her, and when she spoke, his chest constricted.
“Twice now you have threatened my life for fear of what I am,” she said. Her voice burned across Sariel like wildfire. Her fists clenched, and faint lightning arced across her knuckles. “Do not let there be a third.”
He wanted to challenge her, to deny her the right to possess the radiance she commanded. The words died in his throat. No matter her faults, they were a pittance compared to his. He wanted out. He wanted to be free of her. And so he gave her his promise so he might leave.
“There won’t be,” he said. “Should I fear what you are, and what you are becoming, you will be dead, and I, long vanished.”
She smiled. Wide. Playful. Like a predator. Her words haunted him long after his departure.
“Do you truly think me so easy to kill?”