That’s the last straw.
With a swift wave of my hand, flames erupt around him, the heat searing through the air and filling the room with the acrid scent of burning. His screams are high-pitched, the sound almost inhuman, twisting through the hall and echoing off the stone walls. I hold the fire steady, a tightly controlled blaze, feeling every pair of eyes on me, the fear I know I inspire mirrored in each face.
When the screaming dies down, I extinguish the flames with a flick of my wrist. Mathis crouches beside Maren, checking his pulse, his face grim. “He’s still alive, but weak.”
The king barely glances at the scene, his face etched with disinterest, as if watching a fly swatted from the air. He waves a hand dismissively, his lip curling in disgust. “Take him to the dungeons and interrogate him there. We don’t all need to witness”—he gestures vaguely toward Maren’s limp form—“this. Just report back with the information when you’re done.”
Mathis looks to me, waiting for confirmation.
I nod. “Do as the king commands,Captain.”
Maren is dragged out of the room, his head lolling forward, blood smeared across his face. The door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the silent chamber. My chest tightens with a barrage of emotions, anger, disgust, perhaps even doubt but I shove it down, crumpling the parchment in my fist and tossing it to the floor.
“This can’t go on. Kyros needs to be dealt with,” I growl, my voice a low, dangerous promise.
The king’s gaze sharpens as he leans forward, his eyes glittering with a challenge. “And when and how, exactly, do you intend to do that?”
I meet his gaze head-on, my voice unwavering. “Solstice.”
After I excusemyself from the council room, I run after Mathis, trying to catch up with him and Maren before they reach the dungeons.
“Mathis!” I angrily hiss, falling into step beside him just as he’s about to turn the corner. The dim, shadowed corridor presses in around us, thick with the stale, metallic scent of blood and sweat from Maren’s wounds. “You know where to take him. Make sure that—”
“Oh my gods!”
The sharp intake of breath stops us both cold. There, at the far end of the hall, Eirabella stands frozen. Her face is pale, her eyes wide and searching as they lock onto Maren’s slumped, broken form. She looks from him to me, her gaze churning with confusion, disbelief.
“Eirabella! What are you doing here? You should be in the Essensari Council meeting.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, ignoring my questions. Hervoice is small, almost a whisper, but the weight of her question strikes harder than any shout. “What did you do to him?”
A knot forms in my chest, twisting tighter with each second under her gaze. I’ve been through continent-wide wars, stared down a horde of gallenfyre with nothing but my Strengths, but the way she’s looking at me now—the way she sees me—it pierces deeper than any blade.
I force myself to look at her, to meet her horrified gaze. “Remember when I told you that there are things we sometimes have to do,” I say, my voice low and unsteady, “things we don’t want to?” The words taste bitter on my tongue, the cold reality of them making it hard to breathe. She nods slowly, her fingers tightening around the edges of her cloak as if trying to shield herself from what’s coming. I gesture toward Maren, his head lolling forward, blood trailing down his cheek, his eyes hollow. “This… this is one of them.”
She looks back at Maren, her gaze tracing the bruises, the blood, the raw agony etched into every line of his face. Her voice trembles as she speaks, barely audible. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“What’s supposed to.” The words come out harsher than I mean them to, but maybe that’s the best way. I force myself to hold my stance, my face hard, even though the guilt gnaws at me. “Protecting a realm isn’t always pretty flowers and free bread, Eirabella. There’s a very real and dangerous world beyond these castle walls. Don’t ever forget that.” The words hang in the air between us, hollow, and I wonder if I even believe them anymore. “Maybe I’ve done too good a job of protecting you if you’re surprised by that.”
“Don’t you dare patronise me, Rylan. I know what happens beyond all this. Maybe better than you do.” She steps forward, her eyes filled with a kind of quiet defiance that’s as unwavering as steel. Her hand brushes my arm, groundingme, but it only makes the ache worse, the gnawing realisation that she doesn’t understand, maybe won’t ever be able to understand. “But… you always have a choice, you don’t always have to do… this,” she murmurs, her voice soft, pleading almost, as if willing me to be someone better, someone I’m not sure I can be.
Her words, like her gaze, pierce the armour I’ve tried so hard to build around my heart, and for a moment, I feel the weight of every decision I’ve ever made. I want to tell her that I’ve considered every other way, that I’ve wrestled with it in the dead of night, that I would do anything to spare her from seeing this side of me. But I can’t say any of it. So I harden my voice, even as it threatens to break. “Sometimes,” I murmur, barely finding the strength, “there are no lesser evils in the choices we have.”
Her hand drops away, the warmth of her touch fading, leaving only a cold, widening distance between us. And then I see it—something in her face, something that feels like disappointment, judgement, even. It cuts into me, a deep, throbbing wound, a reminder of everything I’ve tried to bury. I’d hoped I could keep this side of myself hidden from her, shield her from the darkness that’s grown in me, the things I’ve had to become. But here it is, laid bare, and she’s seeing it all. And I can feel her slipping away, piece by piece.
Mathis clears his throat beside me, the harsh sound jolting me back to reality. I nod to him, forcing the words out. “Go,” I say, the weight of the decision settling heavily on my shoulders. Mathis and the guards continue down the corridor with Maren, the sound of their footsteps fading, leaving me in the silence of her gaze.
When it’s just us and the silence, she shakes her head, turns, and walks away. I feel something slip through my fingers, and no matter how hard I try to catch it, it’s gone. As I watch her turn away, the shadows closing in, I wonder if I’ve just lost the only part of myself that could still feel light.
TWENTY-SIX
Eirabella
Dear Janus,
Today I learned that we were richer living in our little one bedroom cottages in Larilea than we could ever have imagined.
That we were blessed to live such a simple life, where the hardest decision was whether we were going to have roasted squash or beets for dinner (the answer is squash, always squash, and don’t you ever forget that, beet-lover!)
