Chapter 45

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

A s I continue to prowl toward my father, he smiles as if he couldn't be less concerned.

"Of course, you're here for my throne," he says. "I was just telling my people?—"

"I killed your book."

His smile slips a little.

"Shredded," I say. "Stabbed. Dead. The Book of Dark Magic is no more."

A murmur rises from the group.

My father has stiffened. He was obsessed with that book. For decades, it claimed his mind and his heart and overcame his reason.

He gives a harsh laugh and another dismissive wave of his hand. "So you claim. But stories are only stories. There is no proof of it."

"If that is what you choose to believe," I say.

"Where is your keeper?" he asks, seeming to go on the attack now in this war of words we're having. "Where is your pack? Dead, perhaps?"

I can't hide my reaction fast enough.

"Or… dying ," he says, his smile returning. He saw the way the keeper had been weakened in the catacombs. My father wanted my heart to break because then the keeper would break.

"Yes," I say, choosing not to hide the truth. "My keeper is dying. But so is yours."

It's a guess, but my father's expression becomes stony, a wiping clean of his emotions.

"You've taken without giving," I say. "And now you've taken too much."

I've reached the dais now, and he doesn't have a guard to stop me from stepping up onto it. Certainly, none of the leaders or their generals has moved to stop me.

Of course, I'm now at a very real risk of being attacked from behind.

I keep my ears peeled, listening for any hint of movement among the leaders, any jumping heart rates that could indicate ill intentions, as I veer away from my father and continue toward the light magic keeper instead.

I fear her magic, but as for the woman herself…

"Who was she?" I ask, keeping my voice raised, clear for the listeners, as I glance at my father. "Do you even know?"

He scowls at me, but he doesn't appear so comfortable on his throne. In his hubris, he's allowed me to get too close to him and he has no backup except this golden-eyed woman whose magic is waning.

James was right about the careful knife.

I remain wary of my father—the possibility that he might lash out at any second, since he's allowed me so close now—as I step right up to the light magic keeper.

He seems to relax again. "By all means, Daughter. Try to take her power from me. I will enjoy the scent of your burning flesh."

I don't know how he captured her or what mechanism he's using to control her.

I gave my keeper the gift of free will, but it's clear this woman has none. The Book of Dark Magic must have shown him what to do, but the emptiness of her eyes…

It's as if she's here.

But she also isn't.

What strikes me most is that she made a choice once—a voluntary choice—to save her world and now she's paying a new price for it. A price she doesn't deserve to pay.

With a growl on my lips, I'm about to turn back to my father with a furious rebuke, but then?—

Her energy vibrates. It's only the smallest tingle, but I realize that I extended the claws of my left hand and they must have come very close to brushing her form…

The hum of power around her increases in strength when I move my claws close to her again.

The magic that created her exists within me.

When I drove my claws through The Book of Dark Magic back at the catacombs, this keeper was present but standing behind me. I didn't see what impact it had on her. Maybe none. Or maybe it had a big impact that I didn't witness because my only thought at that moment had been of my own survival.

"Darling Father," I say quietly. "Did you consider that she might not like being used in this way?"

He gives a snarl, finally launching himself out of his chair. "Enough of your talk! I've let you breathe the air of this room longer than I should have."

I ignore him.

I came here to kill the gargoyle king and then my father, but this I need to do first.

With a scream of rage, I drive my left hand, claws extended, through the light magic keeper's form, bracing for agonizing pain.

Bracing for the fury of light magic to flay the flesh from my bones.

She is insubstantial. Nothing more than ghostly. A fact I didn't realize the first time I saw her.

My hand and arm move straight through her, still completely visible to me.

But her weapon— oh, her weapon —it scraped and scraped against the stone wall of those catacombs in a way that drove shivers down my spine.

Clang!

My claws meet the weapon's hilt, and a bolt of burning energy strikes through me.

A chiming sound rings through the air as if multiple strings had been plucked at once.

I'm aware of every dark creature in the room crying out and clutching their ears. My own ears are instantly bleeding.

But I'm also aware that everything is slowing down.

The chime continues in one long note, light magic as pure and strong as dragon's fire filling the air and taking control.

Everyone except the light magic keeper and me seems to pause and become frozen in time.

The keeper of light magic opens her eyes, looking at me with a clarity I wasn't expecting.

"Break this blade," she whispers, her voice muffled because of my burning eardrums.

Her voice sounds like that of an older woman, certainly older than her younger face implies.

"The walls of my Realm had become thin. Just like the wall of the dark keeper's Realm. Your father found my Realm. That dark book showed him how." Her upper lip curls with fury. "He couldn't command me, but he took my weapon. It pulled my power with it. You must break it, just as you broke that book."

I struggle to speak. "But this blade?—"

"Is only a duplicate. It was needed to create me and now its purpose is spent. It is nowhere near as powerful as the blade it's modeled on," she says. "The original blade is safe where it can't hurt anyone. If you break this metal like you broke the book, you will free me."

The chime is already fading and I know I don't have long before everything speeds up around me again.

Despite the terrible, horrible pain of making contact with her light magic, I can't help but smile.

"Go back to your Realm, keeper," I command her, my claws digging slowly into the blade's metal, connecting with the metallic core that was used to create it. "Do what you were created to do. The walls of your Realm will be healed, and you will not be used against your will again."

My claws finally break through the metal.

Snap!

She vanishes instantly and so does her blade.

My father resumes his leap toward me, his roar sounding dull now that my ears are damaged.

I'm more aware of my burning palm than I am of his approach. The skin across my left hand is stripped off, and my left arm trembles uncontrollably.

Dark saints, the burning scent that fills the air around me turns my stomach.

I stumble, but it helps me because my jerky step takes me out of my father's path.

He's screaming at me, but bless my ears, I can't hear what he's saying.

I'm done with him.

I'm done with his games.

I'm done with the pain he caused.

The careful knife is no more.

I am a sharp weapon, and I will no longer be constrained.