With trembling hands, I reach for my useless Kyanite necklace and grip it with all my strength. “I don’t belong here, and you know it. You have always known it.”
“No. I don’t know it. The Seer told me to marry you. You’re my path, Sol. You have always been my path,” he says with conviction and complete certainty, as if his words are not just expressing what he feels but also carving it in stone.
My voice cracks as I speak, each word leaving me raw and exposed. “I’m not what you want. You want a wife who will cast Bloodstone magic and enjoy it.” I lift my trembling hands. “It’s disgusting, and it makes me feel as rotten as those Malachites.”
His eyes glaze over, and his hands shake slightly as he pushes them through his thick, dark hair, the action done slowly and with great effort. “I wantyou, Sol. But you do not want me.”
His words replay over and over.You do not want me. You do not want me.
It’s not true. There’s a part of me that needs him. That craves him. But none of those things change what he has done. Nor does it change what I am and what I have become.
“I want light and goodness.” No. Ineedlight and goodness. Otherwise, I’m an apparition. A figment. A ghost.
“Hades!” Hector moves to the window and grips the frame as a shudder runs down the length of his back.
“If I stay here, the darkness will destroy me. You know it’s true.”
Hector doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s incapable of answering or agreeing with me.
So, I fall silent, no longer willing to continue this conversation.
ChapterFifty-Two
Three days after our argument, I wake after Hector and move to the window. Heavy snowfall makes it impossible to see beyond a cloud of white. I wrap a blanket around my shoulders and lean my head against the cold glass of the window, staring into the abyss outside. It’s the perfect reflection of the turmoil in my heart, the confusion I cannot shake.
Hector keeping such a large secret from me runs deep, cutting into the core of our relationship. My heart doesn’t know how to feel, to think, to connect with him the way I did before. Last night he tried holding me, but I pulled away. He should have spoken to me when Mildred told him about the black book.
Footsteps echo against the floor, drawing my attention. I turn around to find Hector standing at the door, a somber expression on his face.
“I know I hurt you,” he says, his voice barely audible over the howling wind outside. “And I’m truly sorry.”
A part of me wants to push him away, to tell him to leave and never come back. The other part needs to hear him apologize.
Sadness shines in his eyes as he moves to stand beside me. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his words laced with regret.
I keep my stare fixed on the snowstorm, unsure if I can forgive him.
He touches my shoulder, but I don’t turn to look at him. “I’ll do anything to make things right between us,” he says, his voice low, sorrowful.
If he wants to try to mend things, he needs to talk to me. Really talk.
“Tell me everything.” Finally, I turn to face him. “I want to know what’s been going on.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. Firelight dances across his features as he pours us both a goblet of mint tea and sits opposite of me.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asks as he hands me one of the goblets.
The edges of the pottery dig into my palms as I tighten my fingers around the goblet. “The beginning.”
He rubs at his brow, his hand lingering as he seems to search for the words. “It started in Astarobane with you…when you healed Praxis. You healing Praxis was the spark our magic needed.” My chest tightens as he continues. “At that point, you were the only one that had Bloodstone magic. It wasn’t until after I found Mildred, and we started reading the book that we discovered more. Like not needing to go to the cave. And…” he runs his hand against his surcoat where his tattoo sits, “…my tattoo.”
My brow lifts. “What about it?”
“It was one of the sources needed, along with the black book, and a ritual, to bring back magic to my people.”
“A ritual?”
“Yes.”
