Chapter 20
DAVID
Facing Isobel on the training grounds the next morning, David regretted his decision to participate in today’s athletic festivities.
He’d known from the moment Cathaire said he and Anna had other things to do—and therefore Autumn and Isobel would be training them—that the entire endeavor would be tiresome.
But he thought they’d pair him with Autumn. Instead, they offered him in sacrifice to Isobel, who seemed to revel in feeding his blood to the forest floor.
He wiped a dribble of red from a gash in his forehead. “I think you’re enjoying this too much.”
She replied with a snarky smile. “You’re really bad at defending yourself.”
She wasn’t wrong, but some part of him whispered that he deserved this, that it was penance for all the wrongdoing. Isobel, however, didn’t need to know that. “If you weren’t so pretty, I’d try a little harder.”
Her annoyance burst like spice in the air, tickling his nose. “Are you really that easy to distract?”
His stare went flat. “You haven’t done the most stellar job explaining how to extract magic from the fucking air, Isobel. Maybe I’m not bad at this. Maybe you’re bad at teaching.”
Autumn, sparring with Sean nearby, snorted.
“You’re supposed to be a Sentinel,” he said. “How did they teach you?”
Isobel glared and raised her delicate hand, palm out and fingers splayed.
“Look. I’ll explain it again: The Luster exists in everything, which means it’s inside you, too.
Channel it and let it power whatever you need,” she said.
“Do you need a shield? Raise your hands and let it be one. Do you need a stronger punch? Soak it into your fist and swing. Do you need to purge an Indy from a human’s body?
Shove it into the human’s heart and watch the creature die.
Luster is like poison to them, just as Shade is to us. ”
“Shade is their Luster, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
For fuck’s sake, this woman was the absolute worst. His fingernails raked over the back of his head. “Can I have a different teacher?”
“No,” she said right before her fist landed on his jaw.
He really should have blocked it. He could have, probably, but what was the point? Perhaps dealing this pain was catharsis for all the shitty memories she had to suffer courtesy of his ancestor.
He rubbed the pain away and swallowed the coppery tinge on his tongue. “You always this bloodthirsty?”
She pushed his chest, and the Luster boost not only knocked him off his feet but opened the skin beneath his tunic so that blood stained the white fabric.
He fell to his back and stayed there, staring up at the blue sky, studded with puffy, glittery clouds, while the crowd around them laughed and cheered.
For a few seconds, he allowed himself to fantasize about the library. If only…
“You are useless,” Bel said, brow raised.
He sighed.
Memories of Meléan scratched talons through his brain at regular intervals. The thought of hurting Isobel hammered nails into this nonsensical guilt. He hadn’t done those things to her, but it sort of felt like he had. If he wasn’t careful, that guilt would fasten to him permanently.
No, thanks.
David stared up at her and shrugged. Cathaire had abandoned him to die at this termagant’s hand. Who was he to argue?
Isobel scooped a sharp rock from the ground. “You seem like a man who could handle this a little better.”
He shot her his most dangerous smile. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”
She ripped the sharp edge of the rock across her arm. Her skin opened and stitched back together, barely spilling blood. “I’m unbreakable, David. So stop being a little bitch and try to break me.”
David wanted to laugh. “Fine.” He hopped to his feet. “You want to fight? Let’s fight.”
She took on a sparring stance, the air sparkling about her.
After he focused, pulling the Luster from his marrow to his hands grew easier, like soaking water into a sponge, though he couldn’t credit Isobel for learning the trick.
Instead, he used Galadaine’s memories. Galadaine had had a knack for absorbing Luster.
He’d rarely engaged in hand-to-hand combat, but his coercive might soared with the Light singing through his voice.
Sometimes he didn’t even need to speak to compel others to do his bidding.
David used the power to reinforce his punches or block Bel’s. Concentrated, Luster could jolt through skin like electricity or shred it open like a knife.
As they sparred, he realized he remembered her moves—imperfect and a tad frilly. She targeted his weak points and spilled blood like she enjoyed it. Judging by the vicious glee in her emotions, she probably did. Still, his attempts to harm remained perfunctory at best.
He raised a hand to attack, but she grabbed his wrist, twisting so his arm was immobilized. As he lifted his other, her fingernails dug into a wicked gash she’d cut into his forearm. He took the pain without wincing.
Isobel’s luscious mouth twisted into a threatening sneer. “I think I win, but you weren’t even trying.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
Her fingers gouged further into his injuries. “Galadaine never would have let me win this way.”
Pain forgotten, David’s teeth clenched. “There’s a lot of things he did that I’d never do.”
Her assessing gaze tracked over his face. “I hope you’re right, but we’ll see.”
Indignation clawed at the fresh blocks of ice hiding his true feelings. “You’re so quick to jump to assumptions about me.”
“You’ve seen what he did to her. Would you trust you, if you were me?”
“Meléan wasn’t perfect either. Should I assume you’re a flighty, flaky, cheating liar like she was?”
Bel’s eyes narrowed. “Fair enough. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt if you can answer one question.”
“I don’t need to pass your tests, Isobel.”
She ignored him. “Why do you hate Sean?”
David pressed his lips together, glaring. He had no idea where the hate came from, but the logical answer was the one he least wanted to give. He hated Sean because of Galadaine, just as Anna had suspected.
It didn’t extend much beyond that though. He felt nothing for this woman in front of him even though Galadaine had truly loved Meléan.
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.” Closing in, she dropped his arm to grab his neck—
And kissed him.
Magic burned through his injuries and healed them one by one. At the same time, a vault cracked open in his mind. Memories spilled forth, a flood of muddy water over rocky terrain.
He’d thought he remembered her, but he had no idea. Hundreds of years of memories hid in his head, not only of her but all of them. At some point the four of them had been closer than friends or siblings, the relationship between them complex and intimate.
A single memory separated from the rest. Galadaine was angry with her, betrayed and incredulous.
“You cannot love him like you love me.”
Meléan touched his face. “I cannot. But I trust it better.”
“Trust it? What could you ever trust more than I? I have given you everything, done everything you’ve asked. ”
“We are a blaze, Galadaine. Uncontrollable. I crave a simple flame.”
“But…how can you settle this way?”
“Perhaps there is less heat, but so too is there less pain.”
“You feast on pain, Meléan.”
And it was in that singular moment that David realized one crucial bit of information.
Something Isobel surely knew but had never bothered to tell anyone.
Something that might change the perception of Galadaine Manae for the entire realm but would tear Meléan’s reputation to bits of bloody confetti.
Galadaine had never coerced Meléan.
It was in the cadence, the innate texture of the memory—a known truth beneath the relationship between Meléan and Galadaine. They’d loved each other beyond reason, a love that had been unhealthy and toxic, yes, but also equal.
And hadn’t David already known that? In none of his memories did he detect shades of the sugary voice or attempts to sway Meléan to his whims. He remembered fights and domination and rough sex that dove straight into sadomasochism, but Meléan had wanted everything Galadaine had done to her.
Isobel pulled away, and the memory dissolved. Pretty green eyes turned calculating, distrustful.
Horror washed over him. “You knew—”
She played at innocence. “Knew what?”
“You let people believe he magicked her into abuse, but she—she wanted it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, then lowered her voice. “And even if it was true, no one would believe you.” Pushing away, she headed toward Sean. She used her lips to heal his injuries, too, then again with Autumn.
David considered forcing her to admit it, but she was right. Not a single soul would believe him.
Well, Autumn might.
Maybe Anna, the woman who’d randomly decided to take a chance on him. The woman whose emotions made his magic ache like a limb waking from sleep.
Did it matter anyway? He might not have been a rapist, but Galadaine still touted mortal enslavement as a viable route of redemption. In the grand scheme of his crimes, what he’d been rumored to do to Meléan was insignificant.
Ugh.
One kiss from Isobel’s cursed lips and David’s entire world had turned upside down. Again.
He wouldn’t be sad if she never kissed him again, healing powers be damned. The infirmary was slower but just as effective, and healer magic didn’t have the unfortunate effect of unlocking memories better left forgotten.
Autumn bounded to his side. “Want to go for a walk?”
He shook his head. “Can’t. Need to shower off the aura of that woman and meet Anna in the library.”
She faux pouted. “How can you stand to spend all your time in a library? What are you even doing in there?”
“Um. Reading.” He cocked his head. “As one usually does in a library.”
Her smiley scowl was obnoxiously adorable, so he disregarded it. She fell into step beside him as he turned back toward the Tree. “I wanted to warn you…”
He side-eyed her.
“Your mother has already sent word that she’s returning as soon as she can.” Her arm threaded around his, like she feared his escape if she didn’t chain him to her side.
He let the information sit a moment, then ultimately rejected it. “I don’t need to meet her.”
“David,” Autumn chided, though the smile on her face rather detracted from the dire tone of her words. “You will need training.”
“No, I don’t.” He tried to extricate himself from her grasp.
“Morgan’s magic requires finesse. She is the only one who can teach you…”
“Can you release my arm, you harpy? I’m not training for anything. I’m fine.”
She let go. “I’m serious, David.”
“So am I.” Freed, he took off in the opposite direction. Autumn followed, continuing to pester him with questions he was neither willing nor wanting to answer.
He ignored her. If left to her own devices, David was sure Autumn could talk to a brick wall while sleeping.
Meanwhile, panic crept up his arms and legs. He could take being the progeny of a madman, could even stomach being the son of a sadist.
What he didn’t know how to manage was a family member who cared. Easier to write it off, pretend it didn’t exist.
He didn’t need a mother.
“You’re in denial.”
David sucked in a breath, freezing the panic in ice. “Please get out of my head.”
Autumn slowed, allowing him to flee toward the Tree in solitude.