17. Cleaving #2
“If you’re going to accuse me of something, Lukas Aberg, you could at least do me the courtesy of speaking plainly!” I flung my legs off the end of the bed and stood, a low buzz sounding in my ears.
The Shadow reared up and sudden panic pressed against me. But I strode toward him, heedless of the warning bells sounding in my head. Lukas wasn’t the only one close to losing control.
“The dragon, Asvoria!” he shouted back, stopping me in my tracks. “Or are you really that naive?”
A scoff escaped my lips as I rolled my eyes. Regardless of if I thought him handsome, my curiosity toward Trygg was nothing more than that: an impartial desire to learn more about the Shifters that lived within our walls.
“You can’t be serious, Lukas. The prince has only been here a few days?—”
The slice of a flaming hand through the air cut me off, heat sizzling the sweat from my skin.
“Not. Him.” Each word was a growl full of hatred. The flames curling from Lukas’s hand flickered in his eyes, giving him a feral look.
Realization spread through me slowly at first. But when it finally dawned, I couldn’t breathe.
No… that can’t be true. The buzzing grew louder, reverberating in my chest.
Vor, calm down. Take a deep breath, the Shadow insisted.
The door suddenly swung open, knocking Lukas out of the way. Corbyn stood in the hallway with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“It’s time for you to leave,” he seethed, black eyes smoldering like burning coals as they glanced at Lukas’s flaming hand.
Lukas laughed, a bitter sound. He looked back at me with brutal triumph on his face. In that moment, he looked so much like the version of him from my nightmare, it was terrifying. My heart dipped into my stomach.
“So dutiful… So attentive … I was just on my way out, nárithill.” He pushed past with enough force to make Corbyn stumble against the opposite wall.
I bristled at the curse Lukas uttered—there weren’t many things to call someone worse than that.
As he stormed away, Lukas called out, “She’s all yours, Talon. ”
Corbyn watched down the corridor for a moment, then turned back to me, stepping into the room. The tears welling in my eyes distorted his form. That cold, numbing sensation was back, but it was different this time.
There was no calculation—no thought-out conclusions. There was only shock, petrifying and absolute. The buzzing faded under the chill, settling into suffocating silence.
What… What just happened?
The Shadow’s panic subsided. Vor… She prompted me to return my attention to the dragon still standing helplessly in my doorway.
I was near the end of my bed, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, a river of tears streaming down my face. There were no sobs to accompany them—no guttural cries of desperation. Only a hollow emptiness. The chasm, swallowing me up.
Corbyn made to step forward, his face twisted in pain. “My lady, are you al?—?”
“You may go, Talon Arlbright.” The words barely made it past the sob lodged in my throat. I couldn’t face him right now—not like this.
He jerked to a halt, clamping his mouth shut. An eternity passed in an instant, where he stayed looking at me in that aching way and I saw what Lukas claimed. It was as if the veil had been lifted, and everything I already knew to be true was left in stark relief.
When next he spoke, his voice was nothing more than a fluttering breeze. “Vor, please?—”
“I said… you may go.”
My resolve crumbled into dust and debris when I turned my back on him, shivering as cold air hit my bare skin.
I stayed standing there for an unfathomable amount of time.
It might have been hours, or maybe it was only a few minutes.
But I never heard Corbyn leave—never registered the sound of the door closing.
There was only the Shadow’s gentle pressure, and my own grief.
When I finally looked, the room was empty.
My feet moved on their own, carrying me across the carpeted floor to my wing-backed chair.
I fell into it heavily, eyes staring wide into the guttering flames in the hearth.
It needed wood, but I couldn’t force myself to care enough to add a log.
I leaned into the chair slowly, breath ragged in my throat.
Something poked me in the back.
I blinked a few times, registering the feeling.
My brows knit together as I reached behind to grab whatever the object was.
I felt the soft velvet and fur of my cloak, still slung over the back of the chair from the other day, and my fingers traveled over a hard bump.
Reaching into the pocket, I grasped the cylindrical container.
Gods, I forgot. I pulled the scroll from the pocket, cradling it in my hands.
The Shadow sighed heavily. Much has happened. No one could blame you.
I tore the engraved silver end cap from the container and tipped the rolled parchment into my hand. It was small—no longer than my pointer finger. When I unrolled it, I saw Lady Estrid’s elegant, looping script. And only two lines of text.
‘Petra suspected one of the Jarlum. Trust no one.’
I laid the paper down in my lap, the words buzzing in my head. Trust no one, I repeated. And I’ve just lost one of the people I trusted the most.
The Shadow hummed deeply. Petra was always wary of Freyr Reynar, she said. He never tickled my fancy either. She was trying to distract me, I could tell. But the cloud of thoughts and emotions swirling in my head made it impossible.
I can’t think about this right now, I said, tossing the parchment into the hearth. It caught on the dwindling flames, flaring brightly before crumbling into soot and ash.
The Shadow pressed against my mind, her presence comforting. I am sorry, young one, she said softly. He has accused you wrongly, but you must remember that he is also hurting. People say things they do not mean when they are upset.
What if he’s right? What if I’m the one who put pressure on the thread? And now I’ve gone and broken it with my own pride.
From the sounds of it, he has held these suspicions of Talon Arlbright for some time.
Why did he not tell me earlier! I could have assured him. I could have…
She moved in a figure eight pattern, recentering my thoughts. Perhaps he worried what the answer might be. You humans are fretful creatures. And your fear often magnifies a problem tenfold.
My lower lip trembled so I bit down on it as hard as I could stand.
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
It explains why Lukas wanted to accompany us to the Temple, and why he was so hesitant about me leaving again.
I just — I paused, my gaze sliding back to the main door of my chambers.
This isn’t at all how I wanted things to happen.
I knew we’d likely need to spend some time apart, but… not like this.
Corbyn heard every word—as did Trygg, for all I knew—and there was no denial in his eyes. Only torturous, immeasurable pain. It was too much to fathom in light of everything that’d happened.
Not right now. Not with the gaping wound cleaving my heart.