CHAPTER 35 #2
Kara didn’t follow him. Gods, she wanted to.
Even after the things he’d said. He was being such an idiot.
She wanted to shake him. Make him see what she knew with absolute certainty.
But she stayed rooted to the spot, surrounded by the wreckage – the pure destruction the man she loved had caused.
If she chased him down now, pushed harder, she would only drive him further away.
Kara knew that about him by now. So she watched him go.
Watched him disappear into the shadows of Fatàn, leaving her alone.
I do choose you, Sebastian. Please believe it.
“You did well.”
Kara jumped and spun around. Veyra Fatàn was standing directly behind her. She hadn’t even heard her approach.
“Did well?” Kara asked incredulously, as she tugged at her braid anxiously. “He doesn’t believe me.”
“He will,” Veyra said simply, gesturing for Kara to follow her.
Too tired to argue, Kara trailed behind her until they entered a quiet street lined with black-stone houses.
Veyra led her to one near the end. Their valmares – which they’d left hitched in the sparse forest outside Aeterna – were now tethered outside, already brushed down, a pail of water beside them, chewing contentedly on hay.
The door to the small house was slightly ajar and Veyra pushed it open for her.
When Kara stepped inside, warmth from the hearth hit her first, its flames glowing golden.
She went to move away, but a ruby red glow stopped her.
There was a Fatàn shield encasing the fire, ensuring not a single spark could reach her.
That’s... thoughtful.
She dragged her gaze away, looking instead around the room.
On top of a small table, there was a large spread of food; bread, dried meat, fruit, water and milk.
There was a bed too, with a neat pile of clothes on top of it.
She touched the fabric lightly. They were her size.
A perfect fit, right down to the damned boots. There were some for Sebastian too.
Kara stopped short. “You didn’t just know we were coming did you? You knew we’d stay?”
“Of course,” Veyra replied, as though it were obvious. “You will rest here tonight. When the Warrior has finished fighting himself, I will send him to you.”
Kara didn’t know what to say. This whole place was undeniably comfortable, but it was disconcerting.
“Rest,” Veyra said again, voice soft but commanding. “I promise you are protected here.”
Veyra took her leave. Kara just stood there, not knowing whether to laugh, cry or scream.
Her body decided for her. Her legs suddenly felt weak and she sank onto the nearest chair before they could give out.
The tears came violently. Uncontrollably.
Her whole body racked with sobs. She pressed shaking palms to her face, trying to stem the flow, but they didn’t stop for several long minutes. Everything pouring out of her at once.
When finally she’d cried herself out, she stood unsteadily and walked to the washbasin near the window; it was filled with clear water that smelled of rosemary.
She stared down at it – when had she last washed properly?
Kara glanced in the mirror beside it – she was pale, tired, blotchy from tears.
Her hair a mess of a thousand knots. She removed her cloak and untied her braid, combing out the tangles before dipping her hair in the water, scrubbing at her face, her hands, washing away the layers of dirt, blood and smoke that still clung to her.
Once she was done, she moved back to the pile of new clothes.
The gown was green, deep and rich, Hale colours, but the embroidery had crimson threads along the hem and sleeves. She almost laughed.
“How appropriate,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she pulled off her blue one, and tugged the new one over her head.
She peered out of the window, hoping to see a flash of crimson in the darkness outside. But there was nothing. And still, oddly, she didn’t worry. Not for him. Not for herself. Veyra’s words sounded in her mind:
You are protected here.
Kara believed her. She actually felt safe.
She wandered around the room, her eyes falling on a small stack of healing books on the bedside table – titles she recognised.
They’d thought of everything. She helped herself to the bread, the milk.
But left enough for Sebastian. He’d come back tonight, she was sure of it – even in his rage he wouldn’t leave her for too long.
Exhaustion pulled at her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open.
After so many nights in forests, dungeons and caves, when Kara lay down on the soft feather mattress it made her want to cry.
But as comfortable as her body was, her mind wouldn’t stop echoing Sebastian’s words.
Those feelings didn’t stop you though, did they?
You still captured me.
She tried to push the memory away. He hadn’t meant it.
He’d been hurting, lashing out, trying to hurt her back because he was in pain.
She understood. But Gods, it was possibly the worst thing he could have said.
She hadn’t deserved it – she’d shown her loyalty a hundred times over since then.
Even his father had seen that. But Kara wondered if that moment would always be between them.
Their trust never fully healing. Would there always be a small part of him waiting for her to choose duty over him again?
How can I convince him?
But even as the thought formed, she knew what she had to do. The only way to truly show Sebastian the depth and reality of her feelings for him.
The Soulbond.
Her magic stirred, shimmering faintly in her palms, restless.
Kara put one hand to her chest. She knew what could happen.
If Sebastian fell, she would walk the world as half a person, a soul ripped in two, everything drained of colour.
Some never survived it. Some chose not to.
Could she bear that? Risk it, just so she could be completely tied to him – magically, emotionally?
No secrets, no walls, no doubts – just them.
It would give them the strength to stand against what was coming.
Unite the Arcanth. Give them a chance. Maybe a future.
Her magic pulsed again, a fierce, steady rhythm against her ribs.
Yes.
She breathed out slowly. She would risk that kind of loss.
She would carry that kind of grief. For a chance at a life with him.
And because the only thing worse than losing him was letting him think she never chose him at all.
She closed her eyes, letting the certainty wash over her.
Whatever doubts Sebastian had, Kara knew her choice.
Sebastian had been pacing the square, lost to his rage, for hours at least. The night had turned pitch black and his bloodied hands throbbed like hell.
His crimson, which had been dulling the pain, was fading now, like dying embers all over his palms. The worst of his fury had passed, and one emotion burned hotter than any other.
Shame.
What had he done?
Hurled those words at Kara in his rage, about her capturing him.
Even after–
Her trial. The pyre. She’d refused her father’s offer to save herself.
Chosen death rather than call him a traitor.
Been loyal to him, more than he had any right to expect.
And still he’d thrown the thing she regretted most back in her face.
As if he hadn’t done things he wished he could take back, hadn’t hurt people.
Fucking hypocrite.
So why the hells had he done it?
A voice crept into his mind.
You did it on purpose. You wanted to hurt her.
And it was true. He had. He was hurting, so he’d wanted her to feel it too. Like it was her fault they’d been manipulated this way.
The thought made him sick. All she’d done was tell him she loved him and he’d walked away – left her – trusting Fatàn to keep her safe.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Sebastian spun, scanned the streets. But they were empty. “Kara?”
No answer. He stalked back towards the library, then the market road, panicked now. He’d been so blind with rage he hadn’t seen where she’d gone. He hadn’t even thought. What kind of man did that make him? Now she was alone in this damned city and–
“Kara!” he shouted. His heart slammed, frantic now.
Movement caught his eye from the shadows. Veyra Fatàn, serene as ever, watched him from across the street with unsettling calm. “She cannot hear you.”
“Where is she?” he demanded, his hand flying to his sword. “What have you done with her?”
Veyra tilted her head, watching him with vague disapproval. “She is safe. More so than she has been in weeks.”
“Safe?” he laughed, half-mad. “You separate her from me and call it safe? She could be locked in a cell for all I know.”
Veyra raised an eyebrow at the accusation. “If you believed that were a possibility, you would not have walked away,” she said firmly. “And you, Sebastian Thorne, were not fit to be near her until your fire cooled.”
His jaw clenched and he opened his mouth to snap that it wasn’t her place to speak for Kara. But he stopped himself. Because she was right. He hadn’t been fit. He fisted his hands, hissing as blood dripped from the gashes on his knuckles.
“Take me to her. Now.”
Veyra studied him for a long moment, rather like a teacher after a child has thrown a tantrum. “Love has outlasted the fury then. That is good.” Veyra’s eyes softened slightly. “Follow me, she is waiting for you.”
His hand tightened on his sword hilt. “If this is a trap–”
“You’ll kill me, and anyone who stands in your way,” Veyra said mildly. “I’m aware.”
His mind screamed that following her was madness. But the thought of Kara alone, thinking he’d abandoned her, was unacceptable. So he followed. But with every step away from the square Sebastian spiralled.
Kara would hate him.
Rage at him.
Leave him.
I really fucked up.