73. Chapter Seventy-Three

When I finally fell asleep last night, I had been on an emotional warpath—bloodthirsty and feral and furious. I had been ready to fight, wanting to carve my pound of flesh from Kieran’s godsdamned chest if I had to.

When I woke up this morning, I was just… tired.

Tired, bitter, sore, and hungover.

As I sat in silence at my kitchen table, brooding over black coffee, I felt a certain sort of resigned acceptance, a miserable moment of subdued clarity.

I got fucking played.

I had known who Kieran was from the very beginning: a silver-tongued, sweet-talking liar—someone who had mastered the art of manipulation and had no shame about those skills, putting them on public display. I mean, shit—it was part of his godsdamned job.

Somewhere in between the friendship and the sex, I must have just misread signals. Maybe I had been presumptuous. Or maybe I had just been looking for signs that I’d wanted to see—imagining emotional ties, imagining a true bond where it didn’t exist.

I always did have an overactive imagination.

After a long bath and a pathetic excuse for breakfast, nibbling on a few crackers and gulping down several glasses of water just to ease the splitting headache—I sent Bluebell off to Sienna and Laurel with notes, thanking them both and letting them know that I was okay.

It took another hour’s worth of deliberation for me to finally send one off to Kieran.

We need to talk.

It didn’t take long to get a response this time.

Fine.

I wasn’t having this conversation through sprites, though. He would face me, whether he wanted to or not. I desperately tried to bury whatever hope that I had left as I tugged on my boots and swallowed my pride.

I walked slowly down the cobblestone path to Kieran’s townhouse, my cadence a slow shuffle, as if my feet were trying to prolong the inevitable. I tugged at the loose strings on my sleeve, begging myself to let go of that tiny sliver of longing, the prayer that somehow, this was all some sort of exceptionally fucked-up misunderstanding. I had ignored one too many warning signs already.

My heart was a stubborn thing, refusing to submit. It clung to that fleeting sweetness, those soft kisses and the warmth of his body when I’d slept in his arms.

Gods. All of that perfection, all of that bliss—it had only been a week ago. How had we strayed so far off course?

It felt like defeat when I knocked on Kieran’s door. When he opened it, I could find nothing familiar in the expression he wore… It was cold. It was hard.

It was bitter.

Angry.

I stepped past him in the doorway, letting myself in.

“Hey.”

Kieran remained silent and stoic as he followed me into his living room.

What the fuck did he have to be angry about?

I realized, then, glancing at that couch, that this was probably a conversation more suited for neutral ground. But at this point… there weren’t any particularly neutral places for Kieran and I, now were there?

Everything between the two of us was personal.

The anger in his eyes had dulled slightly as he followed my gaze, his visage growing somewhat listless instead. He was certainly carrying himself like a godsdamned corpse—no Light or life to be found as I searched his face, looking for answers. Trying to figure out what the Hel I wanted to say to him.

Silence fell between us. It was probably only a minute at most, maybe two—but it felt like hours.

My palms prickled with sweat.

Just say something, Arken. Anything.

“You know, that wasn’t exactly what I meant when I asked for a fucking warning,” I finally said, surprised by how bitter my voice sounded.

He raised a single brow, but said nothing in response.

“But I suppose you never actually agreed to that, huh?” I continued. “Listen, Kier…”

I trailed off for a moment, sighing heavily as I ran one hand through my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I let things get weird between us. I’m sorry if I pushed your boundaries, or if I took things too far when it came to my feelings for you. I know that we both had our reasons for keeping things platonic, and we fucked up. I’m guessing this is your way of putting me back in my place.”

He kept staring back at me, impassive. Not a single emotion passing through his face, no confirmation or denial.

“So… go ahead,” I said quietly, resigned to this as our only way forward. “Put me back into whatever box you’re most comfortable with, Kieran. I can handle it. Keep your secrets, keep your space. You didn’t have to lie. You could have just said something. And please, don’t try to lie now. Don’t act like I don’t know you better than that.”

He had been so stoic and silent that it was almost a surprise when he spoke.

“No, Arken. You really, really don’t.”

His voice was dull, but unyielding. My temper flared, bristling against the finality of it all, and the audacity that he had to try and put up a front.

“Oh, spare me the bullshit, Kieran,” I snapped. “You’re my best friend. I know you.”

He snorted.

“Friends. Is that what we are?”

There was clarity in his eyes now as he took several steps towards me, carrying himself with that familiar feline grace—only this time, it actually felt predatory.

“Of course,” I said.

“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think so.”

My brows knit together as I tried to parse whatever he was trying to imply here. Even if Kieran was trying to push me away, push us back behind our own respective walls of platonic safe-keeping, how could he suggest that we weren’t even friends?

“None of this was real, Arken.” Kieran said, looking at me as if that should have been obvious.

It was honestly a little bit terrifying, the way he could make such a lie sound genuine as it slid off his tongue. But I would face it down. For him.

“And what, pray tell, would you call the last year or so of your free time?” I challenged.

“I was just doing my job.”

What?

“What are you even talking about?”

“Come on now, Ark—you’re clever enough. A rare Conduit shows up in Sophrosyne as political tensions are rising. I got assigned to keep an eye on you—forgive me if I found ways to pass the time and ease the boredom of following some first-year freshling around.”

“I don’t believe you. There’s something else going on here, there’s something that you’ve been hiding from me,” I accused.

“I mean, I thought that much was obvious,” Kieran purred.

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You know I’m not talking about the sex.”

“Not much else to talk about, is there? I mean, I got what I wanted out of this little game, didn’t I?”

“Fuck you, Kieran! You didn’t spend an entire year following me for work, and you didn’t use that time to befriend me just to get your cock wet. Not when you could take your eager pick from half of this godsdamned city. You’re a pretty liar, Captain—but I don’t believe you.”

“What can I say?” Kieran shrugged. “I like a challenge, on occasion. The game gets terribly dull when you always win.”

I resisted the rising urge to punch him in the face.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

His lip curled into a cruel sneer.

“No, you’re right. It’s not very entertaining for me anymore either, Arken. It’s just desperate. And, honestly, it’s a little bit sad having to stand here and watch you scramble like this. I gave you your warning. But if it makes you feel any better, at least the sex was halfway decent. You were almost worth my time.”

“Please don’t do this,” I whispered. “Please. Fuck your secrets. Fuck whatever it is you’re hiding from me. Fuck this stupid game you’re playing.”

My voice cracked, and it was as if something visibly snapped in him at that same exact moment. Suddenly, Kieran was completely up in my face—his anger resurfacing. He was livid, but also so close that I could lean in and kiss him if I wanted. If I wasn’t so afraid.

“Oh, you want to talk about secrets? Are you fucking sure about that one, Asher?” he hissed in my face.

Yet again, I was thrown for a loop.

“I’m— What? What are you trying to say?” I stammered.

A muscle in Kieran’s jaw feathered as his gaze darkened, like Hel freezing over.

“A bit bold of you, don’t you think? To act as if we were so close. To waltz your demanding little ass in here and accuse me of hiding shit from you, as if you haven’t been doing the exact same thing this whole time. Do you really want to go there?”

This was the first time he’d ever raised his voice with me, and he was breathing hard, as if he was trying to keep his own temper in check. What the fuck was he talking about? And why was he so mad about it?

I swallowed hard, struggling to reconcile what it felt like to be afraid of the one person I had always felt safe with.

“I… I have nothing to hide from you, Kieran.”

“Ah. Well, then. Look who’s the liar now,” he replied bitterly.

“Kieran… what are you talking about?”

“I want you to stay away from me, Arken.”

“What?! Why? Gods, Kieran, I can let it go, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We can just be friends, it’s fine—”

“I have no interest in being your fucking friend,” Kieran growled.

Most of his words had rang empty so far—bitter, but disingenuous. But there was a certain degree of sincerity present now, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I realized... He was serious.

Gods, Arken. What have you done?

My voice was small when I finally found words to reply.

“What... What are you saying, Kier?”

“We’re not friends. We’re not anything. We never were. And you? You need to stay the fuck away from me from now on. Don’t ever come back here. Is that clear enough?”

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Hopelessly confused, lost in the animosity that was simmering behind his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” I breathed, the sharp bite of tears prickling behind my eyelids as I swallowed the words that I actually wanted to say.

Please stop. Please don’t do this. I don’t want to lose you.

“Gods, you’re really going to make me spell it out for you? Only clever when it’s convenient? Fucking fine, Arken. If that’s how you want to play, then how about this? You need to stay away from me, because I know what you are.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

No. There was no way. He couldn’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My voice cracked as I lied straight to his face.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he snarled. “Keep playing dumb with me, and I’ll drag you to the Nineteen right here and now.”

“Why would you—”

“Because I think the Elders would be very interested in you, now wouldn’t they, Arken?” Kieran interrupted. “Because you’re not just a Light Conduit… Are you?”

No.

“You...”

“Yeah,” he replied bitterly. “I know.”

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered.

He had to know that it was dangerous. He had to know that taking me to the Nineteen was the equivalent of a death sentence, if they knew what I was capable of. He did know... I could see it in his eyes. He knew. He knew.

My heart began to splinter and crack.

“Please,” I begged. “Please, Kieran, you can’t—”

“You have no godsdamned idea what I can and cannot do, Little Conduit.”

This time, the nickname fell from his lips like venom. Like an insult. Like a fucking dagger, held against my throat. Kieran almost seemed pleased with himself as the poisoned, pointed words finally met their mark.

“Never speak of this again. Never speak to me again. Are we clear?”

I was going to be sick. I broke into a cold sweat, taking shallow breaths, nausea churning in my gut as I stood there, dumbfounded, like an idiot. Like a godsdamned fool.

The man who stood before me was a stranger. Kieran had finally taken off the mask for me, and what remained was darker, colder, and more cruel than I ever could have guessed.

“Are. We. Clear. Arken?” Kieran snapped, demanding an answer.

“Crystal,” I whispered, eyes dropping to the floor.

I couldn’t look at him. I knew I would regret it later, but if I glanced back up at that glacial gaze, if I looked into his eyes, I would have kept fighting. I wanted so badly to keep fighting…

But this was a battle that I could never win.

A fight I couldn’t afford to lose.

And so instead, I did the impossible. The unfathomable.

I betrayed my own heart, and I turned my back on Kieran Vistarii.

Heart pounding, hands trembling, utterly terrified of the man I loved… I walked away from the best thing I ever had.

And each step forward was agony.