Chapter 30

W e didn’t have to go far to find Godor; in fact, it was probably safe to say that he found us. He came bounding up the stairs as we barreled down, so we all came to a halt in the stairwell.

The last time I’d seen him, I’d noticed some differences in his appearance. More fingers, larger wingspan, and just him generally looking larger, but I’d brushed it off thinking I was imagining things. But now, in the light of a lamp, with him standing right in front of me, there was no doubt that he’d changed. He was taller and broader, and was that the slight protrusion of a nose?

“You are safe now,” he said. “Godor has seen to it.”

“What the heck is going on, Godor?” Hemlock said. “Why would Barin attack us?”

Godor’s gaze flicked to me for a moment. “Barin no longer wishes to serve. He and some others believe that we have served enough, that the rise of Loviator is not our issue. Godor tricked and locked them in the tunnels. Godor feed them…livestock, not people,” he said quickly when he caught the look of shock on my face.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hemlock demanded.

“Master knows. Master give Godor leave to deal with the problem. Godor should have killed Barin, but…killing brother not easy.”

“He’s changed,” Hemlock said. “And so have you.”

Godor frowned. “Godor never change his allegiance to Master.”

“Your appearance, Godor,” Hemlock clarified.

Godor ran his hand down his chest as if noticing for the first time. “I change?” He touched his face, fingers skimming over his nose, then held out his hand to look at his fingers. Five now. “I have changed.” He canted his head. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Hemlock said. “We’ll have to ask Ezekiel when he wakes. But for now, I need to know where Barin and his followers are.”

Godor’s mouth turned down. “They breathe no more.”

Oh… “Godor, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t gone down there, then?—”

“Not your fault,” Godor said. “Godor should kill sooner. Barin dangerous.”

He’d killed his brother to keep me safe, and the evidence was on his hands in the form of dried, crusted blood.

Godor followed my gaze and grimaced. “Godor will go wash now. Orina is safe.” He smiled up at me, showcasing his sharp, pointed teeth.

“Thank you.”

He inclined his head then hurried down the stairs and into darkness.

Hemlock led us back up the steps.

I fell into step behind him, hand trailing along the banister warmed by his touch. “How did Ezekiel make them? How did he become their master?”

“I don’t know, and neither does Ordell. After we got Ezekiel back, after the curse first fell hard on us all, Ezekiel disappeared. He was gone for months in that first year before his first century-long sleep. When he returned, the batlings came with him. He never told us what happened, and once his cycle started, we never asked, too afraid to trigger him.”

“But you can ask him now. When he wakes from his nightmare.”

He looked down at me with a slight smile. “Yes, when he wakes.”

Because I was more determined than ever that he would.

Sleep came swiftly once I crawled onto the cot. Hemlock settled behind me, and his sharp inhalation told me how much pain he was in. I resolved to ask Merry if she could make a salve for him to be used at times like this. Tomorrow…I’d go see her tomorrow. It hit me that I knew so much about Ordell and Ezekiel, but Hemlock, aside from his curse and how it affected him, I knew nothing.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep,” he whispered.

“Tell me something about your past. Something that’s important.”

He was silent for several long seconds before speaking. “I created witches by accident.”

My interest was piqued. “How do you accidentally create witches?”

“The power that I can channel, the power that rushes through me, comes directly from the weave which is a skein of magical threads. I can see it when I look inward. I can feel it. But my curse, even though I can access it and use it, it also controls me, and the thing about that level of power is that it wants to be released. To be used. It needs to be vented, and several centuries ago, I did just that. I expelled a burst of power, hoping to cure a village of a plague they couldn’t shake. It worked, but it also changed them. It connected them to the weave in a way that allowed them to tap into it and manipulate it without being vulnerable to the excesses of power I experience.”

“Witches…”

“Yes. The first.”

“But witches were wiped out by some catastrophic event, weren’t they?” I stifled a yawn.

“That’s enough, sleepyhead. Close your eyes now.”

I wanted to know more, but my eyelids were heavy, so I let them drift closed and slipped into darkness where I’d wait for Ezekiel to find me.

The lamplight shining in from the small cell window leaves everything in gloom. When it’s like this, quiet and dark, the pain is either due to begin or over for now.

I spot Ezekiel huddled in his corner. He doesn’t see me. His attention is on Arabella, who lies on the flagstones, her body at an odd angle.

So still. So silent.

Dead?

Oh God…

But in the next moment, she twitches and contorts, the motions accompanied by cracking and popping sounds as she’s remade, bones snapping into place.

Ezekiel cries out in anguish.

Finally, Arabella lays still and wide-eyed, looking up at the stone ceiling. “No…” she whimpers. “No…”

“I’m sorry,” Ezekiel says.

“Are you?” she demands.

“You know I am.”

“Not enough to end this for me.”

Silence stretches between them until Ezekiel breaks it. “We don’t know that it will work.”

“No, that’s not the reason, is it? The real reason is that you don’t want to be trapped here alone. You want to keep me with you. You selfish bastard. I hate you. I fucking hate you!” She lunges across the room at him, battering him with her fists and clawing at him, and he lets her. He simply lets her beat him until she’s too tired to do any more damage, until she falls into his arms sobbing wretchedly.

“Please…” She looks up at him with tearstained cheeks and cups his face. “Please kill me and set me free.”

Ezekiel looks right at me then. And there is a deadness in his eyes. A chilling numbness that steals my breath.

“Very well,” he says to me. “I’ll do it. I’ll kill you.”

Arabella sobs in relief as his hands close around her throat. She begins to choke and claws at his hands, but he holds fast, his gaze locked with mine as he crushes her windpipe.

She finally falls limp, and he holds her in his arms.

“One hundred and ten days,” he says. “I kept her with me for one hundred and ten days. She’s died twenty times. Killed by Loviator, but she always returned. But this time…this time she doesn’t come back. When I kill her, she stays dead. I could have released her sooner. I could have let her go, but she was right…I didn’t want to be alone…I’m a monster…a fucking monster. Do you see now?” His gaze is bright and lucid as it bores into mine. “Do you see what I did?”

This is what he’s been wanting to show me. Not the murder of his lover but the delay in it, and I finally understand what anchors him here.

Guilt.

And the reason why the curse has yet to be broken also becomes clear. Deep down, Ezekiel doesn’t want to be free of it. He doesn’t feel he deserves it.

I approach and kneel beside him, focusing only on him and not the body in his arms. “I forgive you.”

He blinks at me. “What?”

I lightly touch Arabella’s hand, and suddenly I’m the one in his arms, looking up at him through Arabella’s eyes, speaking with her lips. “None of this was your fault, and we made the best of an awful situation. I forgive you for keeping me with you, and I thank you for having the courage to let me go, and I’m sorry…sorry I wasn’t strong enough to endure with you. But Ezekiel, I’m no longer that woman.” I sit up, pulling free of Arabella’s form and sighing as it mists to shadows around us. I cup his face. “I’m stronger now. Wiser now. I will never leave you.”

His golden eyes brighten. “Orina…”

“Yes,” I laugh through my tears. “It’s me. Come back with me now. Please. I need you. I miss you so much.” The cell vanishes, and we float in warm darkness. “Can you do that? Will you do that?” I kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t…don’t deserve?—”

I kiss him with every ounce of longing in my soul. He melts into my embrace, and the world falls away.

“Orina…” Hemlock gently shook me. “Wake up. Look.”

I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to stay with Ezekiel and?—

“Highly rude to awaken me and continue to sleep, Miss Lighthart.”

Ezekiel? I bolted up, gaze flying to the cell to find him standing by the bars, hands clasped behind his back looking as composed and in control as always.

“You’re back.”

His smile lit up his golden eyes. “Yes, Miss Lighthart, it would seem that I am.”