Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Adrian
“If I die, know it was for you, my love. Build a better life for our children upon my grave. I will see you again.”
— A Note Recovered in the home of Dominic Hill
The king's breath reeked of wine.
The odor was so strong it took everything in me not to lean away from him every time he spoke.
The Prince was better. I found myself leaning toward him more often than not, mostly nodding in agreement to whatever they were discussing, as if I had any idea what they were talking about.
I answered with only the barest details when asked about where I'd come from or where I'd been.
When the conversation drifted into why they should bother backing our endeavor, I encouraged them as well as I could without telling too much of my power, as Gryfon had warned me against.
In the end, I felt that I hadn't done a very good job of convincing them at all.
If anything I'd said had gone at all toward convincing them to join us, it would be a miracle.
Still, the conversation alone was exhausting and, by the end of it, I wanted nothing more than to return to my room, strip off this dress, and fall into the massive bed awaiting me there.
Instead, I found myself descending from the dais only to be introduced to countless nobles awaiting my attention by the Prince himself who'd joined me.
Hours later, I was finally permitted to retire. I gave them all a polite smile before bolting for the door. Gryfon stepped forward from where he'd been in the corner, but I waved him off. He frowned but relaxed slightly when both Zya and Kane made their way to my side.
We swept from the room with far too much fanfare for my taste but at least we were finally out.
I let my shoulders slump as we made a beeline for the hall of rooms we'd been given on our arrival.
I didn't let out a breath of relief until we were through the doors and into a dimly lit hallway populated by only the members of our party.
"If you don't start unzipping me now, Zya, I swear I'm going to burst," I muttered as we strode quickly down the hall.
She chuckled and reached for my zipper but then we reached the halfway point and the lights in the distance were enough to illuminate a figure waiting in the shadows. I froze, breath hitching as I recognized the form now pushing off the wall at the end, between mine and the general's doors.
"Dante," I said, coming up short.
He stumbled a bit as he strode forward and my brows furrowed.
"Are you drunk?" I asked.
"I need to talk to you," he said and, to his credit, the words weren't slurred.
Kane pushed up beside me, taking a defensive stance as if he'd have any chance at all against Dante. I placed a reassuring hand on his arm, pushing him back. He met my gaze and I nodded.
"Adrian," Zya spoke quietly.
"I'm fine," I told them both. "I'll handle this. Go to your rooms."
They exchanged a glance and hesitated but eventually strode off to their own rooms. I waited until the doors clicked shut to storm down the hall. I let my shoulder slam into Dante's as I slid my key into the lock on my door and turned it. The impact didn't even budge him. It never had.
He turned slowly, watching me in the dying torchlight as I fumbled with the lock. I pushed the door open a moment later, striding inside and waiting for him to follow. He did, closing it behind him. I whirled around, crossing my arms and glaring before he was even fully inside.
"What do you want?" I snapped.
"I think we need to…discuss everything that happened," he told me. "Properly."
"You think you're in the right state for that at the moment?" I questioned, letting the accusation sting as intended.
He frowned, the way I always remembered him doing when I'd snapped at him, pushed back.
He stepped forward and I tensed, dropping my hands to my sides and flexing my fists, calling the Darkness to my fingertips in preparation to defend myself.
I hated that, hated that things had deteriorated between us so supremely I feared him in that way.
He noticed and raised his hands in surrender.
"Adrian, please," he whispered and something broke.
I heard the crack in his voice, saw the utter desperation in his eyes.
It was a vulnerability I'd never seen in Dante before.
Never. Not even in the dead of night when we were intertwined together.
Not even in the Trials which stripped us of our humanity and challenged us to survive.
Not even in the end when he'd told me he loved me and pushed me into that hole.
His green eyes shimmered in the low light and I thought I saw the moisture gathered in them. He wasn't crying but it seemed like it was taking everything in him not to.
I dropped my fists, relaxed my shoulders, and breathed heavily.
This wasn't the Dante I remembered. This wasn't the man I'd loved, the one I'd been partnered with.
This wasn't the strong wall of muscle and will who both terrified and awed those around him in equal measure.
This was the boy whose grandfather had turned him into a monster, the one who'd grown up in a prison of his own mother's making, a cage of expectations and lineage.
This was a broken man, begging me to hear him out one final time, lost to liquor and grief over what he'd almost done, what he'd thought he'd done.
"You tried to kill me," I said then, letting the words linger in the air between us, wondering how it was the first time they'd been spoken aloud. "But I'm not your victim, Dante."
His shoulders slumped and he took a step forward, reaching for me. Then he thought better of it and let his hand drop back to his side, eyes wide and pleading but, for what, I didn't know.
"I made a mistake," he told me.
"A big one."
He nodded. There was no disagreeing with that.
"I'll never be able to make it up to you," he said.
"No," I agreed. "You won't."
The room felt suddenly too full, the atmosphere heavy and dull. My heart fell silent as if to protect itself. I could hear the coldness of my own voice, knew how harsh I was being, but I didn't care. I should have killed him already. I didn't and now I had to live with the consequences.
"I loved you—" he started.
I shook my head, backing away from him until the backs of my knees collided with the mattress.
"No," I said, breathing in sharply. "No. You don't get to say that. You don't get to pretend it's the truth."
"I did love you," he replied, frantic as if desperate for me to believe him. "I do love you, Adrian. I—"
"No!" I screamed, rage filling me at once as shameful tears pricked my eyes. "Don't you dare! Of all the wicked things you could say to me, Dante, that's the cruelest of them all!"
"I—"
"Don't speak! How dare you ambush me like this! After what you did to me, after the choice you made, you think you can wait outside my door, drunk, and try to win me back? I deserve better than that, Dante. I always have."
"You do," he agreed, nodding. "You always have.
You're right. I'm not good enough for you.
I never was and I never will be. I was a worthless piece of shit before the gods paired us together.
You were always the strong one, always the powerful one, always the better one.
I've never had anything in my life that was worth anything until I had you.
And I fucked it up, like I always do, because I am what my grandfather made me.
I chose him over you, over myself, and I'll never be able to live with that, not fully.
Because I was the one who made that choice.
When it came down to it and it was just you and me, I still did what he would have wanted. How fucked up is that?"
I shook my head, unable to answer, not trusting myself to speak.
"I'll never be able to make it up to you and, to be honest, I wouldn't forgive me either," he said and his tone was soft.
Something inside me cracked and I hated myself for it.
"But I can't help how I feel. I've never felt a connection like that before and I know I never will again.
So, whether or not you choose to acknowledge it, I know it's there.
At least, for me. I still love you, Adrian. I always will."
I was shaking my head by the end of it, biting my lip and wishing I could back away even more.
I didn't want this, didn't want to hear this, not from him, not anymore.
I didn't want to confront what he was saying, didn't want to acknowledge those feelings that had been growing for him in the end, to consider what they might have become, what they might become anyway even if I didn't want them to.
"Adrian—" he took a step forward.
"Please go," I blurted, my voice coming out small and quiet.
He froze, hurt flashing in his eyes for a brief instant before he nodded and backed away.
He didn't say another word as he headed for the door.
My hands began to shake the moment he opened it and stepped out.
And when he shut the door behind him, I collapsed onto my bed, dress half unzipped and tears staining the burgundy silk beneath me.