58. Chapter Fifty-Eight

To no surprise, Hans and Jeremiah were waiting for me outside.

“I appreciate the two of you stepping in to cover for me this morning,” I sighed, running my hand over my face. In all my years serving the Elder Guard, I had never missed a meeting. I had never even been late.

“Of course,” Jeremiah said casually, though he kept his face fixed on the road ahead, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned.

“I really don’t know how it slipped my mind that there was a briefing.”

“You sure about that one, Cap?” Hans snickered, and Jeremiah promptly smacked his fellow lieutenant upside the head.

“I told you to drop it,” Jer hissed under his breath.

I rolled my eyes.

“Nah, it’s fair of him to give me shit for once. It’s not like me to get that distracted by sex. I’ve admittedly been out of focus lately.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Hans said airily, still smirking to himself.

“You got something more specific to say, Deering?” I challenged.

Hans shrugged.

“Just never thought I’d see the day.”

Jeremiah groaned, as if this was precisely what he’d been instructing his fellow officer to avoid talking about. Why, though?

“And what day is that, dare I ask?” I challenged again with a raised brow. They were acting strange, and I was exhausted.

“Oh, come on now, K. Don’t play dumb when it’s this obvious. We’re not the ones with a blind eye.”

“Will you just spit it out, asshole?” I grumbled, growing irritated as the pair of them glanced back at me like I was missing something.

“Just never thought I’d see the day you caught feelings, sir,” Hans laughed. “But hey, I’m happy for you. So is Jer, even if the bastard won’t admit it.”

“I never said I wasn’t happy for him,” Jeremiah countered. “Just that you should keep your damn mouth shut about it.”

“It should hardly be news to either of you that I care about Arken,” I reasoned.

“I think it’s a little more than—” Hans found himself interrupted as Jeremiah shoved him harshly off the road, causing him to stumble.

“No, we knew,” Jeremiah said. “But… If I may, sir. Are you sure this is a good idea? You and Ark? Thought you two were keeping things, uhh, platonic.”

I bristled under the implication. The unspoken concern that I would toss Arken aside eventually. I exhaled slowly through my nose, not wanting to get overly defensive when I knew Jeremiah meant well.

“I don’t mean—I just. We like the girl, Captain. We like having her around, too, you know.”

“It’s not like that,” I replied. “Arken’s not going anywhere.”

“Right,” Hans added. “Because you care about her.”

“Is that such a crime?” I snapped.

“‘Course not. I just think it’s hilarious that you think that’s all—”

“Hans.” Jeremiah warned, his tone dropping deadly low, more serious this time.

Though I understood where both of these men were coming from, I wasn’t in the mood to think about it. I knew that I had a certain pattern of behavior, yes. And Arken and I had yet to define exactly what had been transpiring between us as of late.

In our defense, we hadn’t exactly had the time. We’d been fucking like rabbits for over nine days straight, utterly ravenous. Nine days, and it was still all that I could think about when I was at work, or when she was in lectures. This twinned sense of addiction was starting to feel like it was more than just a consequence of a year’s worth of pining and sexual tension. If that were the case, surely we would have simmered down by now. We hadn’t, and I had neither the time nor the attention span to explore whatever else it could be. I was too busy burying myself in her. Losing myself in her as often as fucking possible.

All that I knew was that I had no interest in pushing her away. Not when I was constantly desperate to pull her closer. I mean, shit—I had just missed a meeting for the first time in my career because I’d been all too happy to let myself be distracted by her all morning.

Truthfully, I didn’t know if any of this was a good idea, but I wasn’t going to stop myself any time soon.

I did my best to shake off the petty irritation towards my lieutenants as I reported in to my commander.

“How’s the girl? Still recovering alright?” Hanjae asked.

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t elaborate, and he gave me a long look before speaking again.

“It’s not my business, and to be blunt, I don’t want to know. But for the sake of our work—and given her rarity—I must ask that you try to preserve a respectful relationship with the Light Conduit, whatever else transpires.”

I nodded.

“Understood, sir.”

“As for what you missed this morning… Well, we’re not quite sure what to make of it, and I was hoping to get your take.”

“What’s going on?”

“After the Leshy attack, we sent some of Rorick’s rangers to scan through the Wyldwoods, to make sure that the creature had been traveling alone. Though they didn’t find any more traces of daemon activity, they did pick up on something… odd.”

“Odd in what way?”

“That’s the thing. We’re not even sure. According to the rangers, it was some residual arcane energy that felt off somehow. Foreign. They couldn’t really describe it, but reported that it felt distinctly different from a Conduit or even an Aetherborne’s magick, and it was scattered around in pockets of the wood, but it faded too fast to track.”

Foreign aether? Scattered around in pockets? That was… unsettling.

What Hanjae was describing was simple aetheric reverberation. There were certain types of magick—arcane methods that weren’t taught here—that drew so much energy at once that they would leave behind an echo of power before the aether could be reabsorbed by the surrounding flora and fauna. The rangers had found these echoes throughout the forest, but I had only drawn from my blood magick once. And it sure as Hel shouldn’t have taken over a week to dissipate.

“That’s strange,” I said. “I didn’t sense anything other than the Leshy that night. And you said they found no other trace of daemonic activity? How far into the Wyldwoods did they go?”

“They’ve been at it all week, so they covered the whole damn forest. Nothing.”

“I’ll send my cadre in as well. See if there’s anything they can find that the rangers might have missed.”

My commander nodded.

“We’ll also be setting up regular patrol shifts in the area. Make sure your men align with Rorick’s, at least on coverage and strategy.”

“Of course, sir.”

I tried my best to stifle a yawn, not wanting to appear bored or disrespectful. I was just really fucking tired.

“You alright over there? That’s like the third time that you’ve referred to me with proper honorifics, and we’re not even in public. Still feeling sick?”

“I’m fine, Hanjae. The past several weeks have just been… a lot.”

In the best of ways, lately. That said, without Arken by my side, the weight of everything else she seemed to keep at bay was quickly catching up with me.

“I know I normally give you shit for this, Kieran, but why don’t you go rest in your office for a while? You look exhausted.”

And I really must’ve been, because the idea of a quick nap at my desk sounded as appealing as the softest feather bed in the world.

“I’m going to remind you of this later,” I warned. “This is clearly enabling my bad habits.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get your ass out of here. I expect a report from your men about the Wyldwoods within a week.”

“Yes, sir.”

I debriefed quickly with Jeremiah after leaving Commander Ka’s offices, instructing him on which men I wanted on the Wyldwoods patrols, before the exhaustion truly started to get the better of me.

Once I made it back to my own office, I flicked the lock closed, sank into my desk chair, and fell asleep within minutes.

Mist enshrouded the Wyldwoods that night, providing the cover I needed as I fled from the estate, clutching at my face in blind agony.

When I was far enough away, I leaned against the gnarled oak to catch my breath, chest heaving, hands bloodied, heart shredded. I didn’t bother to check behind me. I knew that once I left, my brother would not follow—the distance was only a precaution born of what little self-preservation I had left.

A dark, sick chuckle came from across the clearing.

“Fuck you,” I rasped.

As my sire stepped into the light, his face was as cold and indifferent as ever.

“Let this be the last lesson I have to teach you, my unfortunate heir,” he sneered. “There is a price for fighting against fate—and you won’t always be the one who pays that cost, Kieran. Who else has to die? When will you accept your duties?”

One day, I would end his pathetic existence and let that be the last lesson between us. For now, all I could really do with what remained of my stamina was spit in his direction with bared teeth.

“Never,” I hissed.

Without another word, the man turned away from me with clear disgust, took a single step forward, and then evaporated into Shadow.

I wanted to chase him down and make him pay for what he had done. A life for a life. But I could barely even keep myself upright. Instead, I stumbled back towards Sophrosyne, praying that I wouldn’t pass out from the blood loss before I could find a cleric…

My surroundings warped and twisted, and suddenly I was no longer in the Wyldwoods.

Now, I stood before a familiar obsidian table, inlaid with dark and ancient runes. Nausea surfaced at the memories I had here, but this time, it wasn’t a younger version of me being strapped down to that table.

It was Arken.

I lunged forward, trying to run to her—trying to call out her name—but my mouth and legs were bound. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I could only thrash in place and watch in agony as the Crones began to carve into the flesh of her back with ink, the same way they had done to me all those years ago. I remembered the pain all too well, the way the ink had burned.

I was thrashing internally, drawing on every ounce of aether I had within to break whatever bound me. I would gladly strike down those withered bitches where they stood, but even at full strength, I could not escape.

Arken’s face crumpled with desperation as she cried out in fear and agony, but they held her down and continued their wicked work. Her blood mixed with ink as it spilled against her pale skin, a morbid canvas for their sadistic purpose.

“Kieran, please!”

I fought, and fought, and fought, but I still couldn’t move. I was silently screaming myself hoarse, I could feel my throat burn, but she still couldn’t hear me as tears slid down her cheeks. And then…

My sire returned, appearing just behind Arken atop the stone table.

As Dagon drew his jagged blade, wicked fangs gleaming in the dark, he smiled at me. Just before he slit the throat of the woman I loved.

I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping, daggers already in hand.

Fuck. Fuck.

I hadn’t had one of those nightmares in years. I tried to steady my shaking hands as they returned the blades to their proper holsters, breathing hard through my nose. Dagon had not haunted my dreams in ages. Why now?

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and now you have something you’re not willing to lose.

No, it went beyond unwilling. Such a thing had become an unfathomable horror. Something beyond comprehension. No, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her—and I had known that since the night with the Leshy—but could I ever really have her, either? The burden of my secrets might have been agonizing to bear alone, but it was the lesser of two evils. I had decided that a long time ago.

Nausea curled in my gut. I couldn’t deal with that train of thought—not now, not here, where the walls of my office felt as though they were closing in on me. This room was far too small, too contained. I needed to get out of here.

Hans attempted to approach me as I strode through the halls at a brisk pace.

“Hey, Cap, I just wanted to apologize about earlier—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. “If anyone asks, I’m out for the rest of the day. Make sure Jeremiah has what he needs to start patrols tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Deering said, clear concern in his eyes. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” I said bluntly, taking a hard left towards the stables, leaving the man standing alone and confused in the hall.

I found Muniin, my favored cavalry mare, quickly prepared her saddle, and took off towards the Pyrhhan Coast before anyone could even realize we were gone.

Something about the scent of saltwater and the gentle repetition of crashing waves had always soothed me.

I had spent a great deal of time on these beaches over the years, particularly as an angst-ridden, brooding teen, and I still found myself coming back to the sea whenever I got overwhelmed. It had been awhile, though. I hadn’t been back here since I met Arken last year.

Arken.

My throat began to constrict as I dismounted, that sense of overwhelm and dread beginning to take over again.

Breathe.

I just needed to breathe.

I left Muniin tethered to the rickety old driftwood fence that marked this particular subset of the beach as private property, knowing that she would stay put. Also knowing that the owner of said private property never came down here, anyway. Not anymore.

It wasn’t until I made it to the shoreline that I allowed myself to think. To feel. And as the seafoam and saltwater began to break down my defenses, the first thing I felt was fear.

Complete and utter terror.

Because I loved her.

I was in love with her.

Fuck.

I didn’t even know what to do with that information. I had never even considered it as a possibility—never intended to get close enough to anyone for such a thing to ever happen. I had successfully kept everyone and everything at a comfortable, safe distance for years. Years.

And then Arken fucking Asher came along.

Confusion and guilt joined the fray alongside the terror, rippling through me in waves as I realized that in breaking my rules for her—in allowing myself this one, single exception… I had left myself vulnerable. I had carved out a perfect hole in my armor. I had something to lose, now—and if I ever lost her, I wasn’t sure that I could bear it.

I thought about the way she looked at me lately, like I had personally hung every star in the night sky. Like I had crafted the constellations she so adored with my bare hands. I thought about the purity of her trust, the vulnerability that those gorgeous, golden doe eyes held, the way that she said my name. The way every kiss tasted like a promise on her tongue.

I thought about how immediately Arken had developed the habit of curling her body against mine after we exhausted ourselves, how quick she was to fall asleep, so long as her head was on my chest.

It was one thing for me to be in love with her. But if there was even a fraction of a chance that Arken felt similarly…

I was done for.

And yet the mere thought of it sent frissons of pleasure up and down my spine, awakening the most desperate desire of my life, as I realized there was one thing in this world that I wanted more than Arken’s body.

I wanted her heart.

I would die for it. I would kill for it. I didn’t deserve it—I could live a thousand lifetimes and still never possibly deserve it, but that wasn’t enough to stop me. Though perhaps it should have been.

I wasn’t born for love. The prophecy that had been forcefully etched into my skin with needles and ink was not one that had a happy ending—or so I thought. I had always told myself that there was no Light for me at the end of this tunnel, only the briefest moments of it, flashing too fast for me to hold on to, always leaving me blind by the time the Shadows fell again.

Because in the face of so much pain and unavoidable despair, you learn to wear apathy like armor. A child weaned with blood on the tongue has no room to develop a taste for things like milk and honey.

There was just something about her, though, that left me desperate for an alternate fate. I didn’t want to be apathetic around her—I didn’t have the capacity to be apathetic around her. Arken Asher had torn through all my darkest nights, shimmering across the skies like a violent meteor—brilliant, awe-inspiring, and dangerous. Something worth wishing on. Someone worth living for.

For Arken, I would go to war with my own demons. I would fight the Fates, the gods, and the very Source itself—if that’s what it took for me to hold onto her.

As I trudged past the shoreline, making my way back to Muniin, I took pause at a small glint of iridescence in the sand. As I bent over to pick it up, I realized that it was a small chunk of astral quartz, fitting neatly in my palm and tumbled smooth, like seaglass. I immediately pocketed the stone, knowing that Arken would adore it. As I so adored her.

Though this newfound vulnerability—this terrifying uncertainty still crashed around my mind as violently as the tides behind me, I also felt something else. A flicker of something so foreign, so unfamiliar that it took me a moment to give it a name.

Hope.

This was uncharted territory. Hallowed ground. These were emotions I never expected to have to navigate. For the first time in a very long time, I felt entirely out of my element.

No matter how she felt about me, whether this feeling was mutual or not…

She and I would figure it out.

I knew we would.