Chapter 43

Iease the child into the arms of one of the more healthy-looking females who appears to be able to bear her own weight. Brushing a curl back from the child’s face, I give the woman a tight smile. “Hold her close, please.”

She nods, dropping her tender gaze.

Turning, I stride to Kolden, who’s easing a man to his feet, preparing for our trip back through the tunnel. “Do you have the key to the shackles?” I ask, indicating the boy tucked beneath Calah’s arm.

Kolden gives me a wary look. “I do. But—”

“Get this lot moving through the tunnel—weakest in the middle, strongest at the front and back. Then meet me in the arena.”

“Orlaith—”

“I’m not going without him,” I say, charging on, the only weapon on my body the dagger sheathed at my thigh. The rest are useless where I’m going, anyway.

I burst into the arena, making my way around the edge until I’m standing within eyesight of the Aeshlian caught beneath the Unseelie’s arm. There’s a shackle around his right wrist, probably his left, too, considering the squiggled lengths of chain lying on the filthy ground.

His wide, iridescent gaze is pinned on me.

Again, I look at the big, bulky arm draped over the boy’s midsection, a heavy understanding rooting in my chest like a mountain.

The moment he tries to wriggle loose, the beast will wake.

Which leaves me with one option.

A single glistening tear slips from the corner of the boy’s eye, like he can see the train of my thoughts. The intention in my stare.

Go, he mouths, and I feel that word poke between my ribs and charge into something squidgy.

I shake my head, sensing Kolden’s presence like an approaching landslide. “We can’t draw close enough to release the shackles without waking him,” he grinds into my ear. “The only way to get them out when they’re under his arm like that is to creep in and grab the chain, then drag them past the line, but you don’t want to do that unless they’re dead. Calah gets excited if you try to rip his toy free. Most of the time he tears the bodies to bits on their way out. Being drunk to a slow, sleepy death would be a much kinder way to die.”

I shudder from the base of my skull all the way to the tips of my toes. I’d already thought that option through and came to a similar conclusion, but hearing him spell it out like that is sure to haunt me for the rest of my life.

“The boy’s stuck there,” Kolden tacks on, slamming the words down like the swing of an axe. “He knows it. It’s why he just told you to leave. We’ve got a tunnel full of people we have to get out of Parith before the High Master wakes and hunts you down. We need to go.”

His logic is clear. But like my cloistered emotions, his words don’t land their blow—pitiful against the might of my crystal dome and the stony grit of my determination.

I refuse to let that boy watch us leave him here to die. I’d rather rot in here myself.

Studying the chains lumped upon the ground, snaked about in swirls, I map their trajectory if either man or monster were to move this way or that.

A flash of light rips through the sky-hole, igniting Kolden’s wide eyes as I backstep over the line to the tune of booming thunder. All the color saps from his cheeks as I take slow, backward steps deeper into the dead zone.

Toward themonster.

I spin.

“Orlaith, no—”

“I’ll distract Calah,” I tell Kolden over my shoulder, “but I need you to act the moment he moves. Get the boy free. If Calah catches me, leave. Run and don’t look back. Take everyone straight to Cainon’s personal ship. Captain Gunthar is there with a crew ready to sail to Ocruth.”

A tear shreds down my cheek as the last word falls from my lips, and I realize it’s from a tender vine of reliefcurling around all the broken bits of my heart … an emotion I didn’t think to stuff away.

Why would I?

I’ve been pretending my soul didn’t tumble over the edge of a cliff with the man I murdered, kept busy by all these circles I still had left to spin …

Secure the ships.

Complete The Bowl.

Rescue these lives.

Now with my circles connecting, the silt settling, I’m staring down the throat of a life without him, and there’s this emptiness below my ribs that makes me feel like it would be easier to just … fade away.

It makes me more disposable than the boy.

Another bolt of lightning ignites the space and lifts the hairs on the back of my neck. I draw my blade, wrap my bound hand around the sharp end, and slice—ripping open the same wound I used to lure Rhordyn to his death.

The monster whips up his head, nostrils flaring as he draws long whiffs of the air like a dog sniffing at the wind. A low growl permeates from somewhere deep inside his chest, and he rolls forward into a predatory crouch, tangles of filthy, matted hair falling across his screwed-up brow.

His stare flays my skin. Cracks into my bones. Slurps at my marrow—like he’s tasting all the bits that were used to put me together.

There’s a glimmer of something else in his inky eyes …

Relief?

It ignites and dies so quickly I question it was there at all.

My vision narrows, senses heightening. I keep moving, every preplanned step chased by the sound of my blood drip, drip, dripping in my wake as I coax his attention farther around the arena. He finally shifts, dragging his leg along the Aeshlian’s torso, moving off him entirely—not once breaking my stare. He doesn’t even blink.

Kolden creeps toward the boy, face etched with fierce determination. I’m thankful for another bolt of lightning as the Aeshlian gathers his chains close to his withered body. The constant pour of water absorbs the sound of him shuffling across the floor in slow, staggered movements, trying to pinch the gap, his wide, terrified gaze firmly cast on the back of Calah’s head.

All the while, Calah prowls closer to me, a deep, abrasive snarl ripping past his bared teeth, his hunched body all bulging might.

That voice inside screams for me to run.

I sidestep.

He mimics, the glint in his eye howling his excitement.

I sidestep again.

He snarls, smashing his fists against the stone like he’s preparing to charge.

I’m vaguely aware of Kolden reaching the boy. Easing the key into the first shackle—slow and silent as a mouse creeping around a sleeping cat.

I sidestep again just as the first shackle is set down on the ground with delicate precision, and they get to work on the second.

Kolden fumbles with the key, my heart lurching as it clatters against the stone so loud I feel it in my bones.

Calah’s entire body locks up, his head whipping around.

No.

I flick my hand, splashing my blood across the side of his face.

His head banks in my direction, slower than a rising moon. When I finally see his eyes, a gasp cuts into me.

Every last droplet of humanity has drained away, his features sharper, canines longer. Like his entire being has honed into the perfect apex predator—all dark, ancient savagery.

I hear the second cuff clatter to the ground, notice Kolden lifting the boy and running as Calah charges, his roar vibrating through me.

I spin, sprinting—

He hits like a boulder, punching the breath from my lungs. I’m spun by a ruthless grip on my hair, head ripped back, throat bared. He strikes, snatching the scream slicing up from my lungs, releasing my blood in a hot gush.

A surge of pain crunches down on my throat, fills my skull, lashes the underside of my skin. It tears at my muscles and sinew and bones with deep, powerful, gluttonous drags, wilting me from the inside out.

Get away,I internally scream as I’m clawed at.

Bent like I’m made of clay.

Warm, wet pressure erupts from my nose and ears, bleeding more of me.

“Get th— … away …” I reach for my ankle, tangling my fingers with my necklace. “Plea—”

Calah releases a bubbling breath against my flesh, and the draining tug on my skin abates. His lips unlatch as I slip from his loosening grip, falling back upon the stone in a listless heap—gasping. Weakly clawing at the slippery stuff spilling from my neck.

He wavers from side to side in a sinking sway, blood dribbling down his chin as all the darkness leaks from his eyes, leaving them the brightest blue I’ve ever seen.

He looks straight at me, snatching my breath, the most pure, untainted smile grazing his bloody lips.

“Finally,” he rasps, eyes softening with unmistakable relief, before they go flat and lifeless—all the light draining away.

He crumples with a heavy thump that rattles his chains, staring sightlessly ahead; chest unmoving.

Eyes unblinking.

Dead.

I sob, my gaze traveling up the folds of a familiar black cloak, delving into the iridescent eyes of a man I’ve only seen once before. On the beach at Castle Noir.

My next breath is choked.

The scars on his neck are raised and gnarly beneath the spill of firelight, his chest heaving with a frantic, battering beat that has no rhythm. Like he’s clambering through each one, wrestling them into submission.

Baze’s eyes are pinned on Calah, and I look to where he’s staring—to the curved tip of a Vruk talon protruding from his heart.

The vision does something to me. Makes that dome inside me release a big, creaking groan as something scrape, scrape, scrapes at it from beneath.

Don’t cry—

I break my stare and stagger to a stand. “Baze?”

No answer—not even a blink.

I take a wobbly step around Calah, reaching, pausing when I see shadows battling within the tumultuous depths of his eyes.

A flash of conflict.

I look down at Calah, back at Baze, then lift a trembling hand and cup his cheek. He flinches, pupils tightening as they land on me.

The faintest spark of … something, and a line forms between his brows, his gaze shifting down to my neck, up to my eyes again. He makes this deep throaty sound, before threading his hand through my hair and crushing me against his chest.

I buckle.

Break.

Every wisp of emotion that was nesting in dark spots and hiding between my ribs congeals into a sawing vine that shreds me open, baring my messy insides to the man who’s always seen my bruised and battered heart.

He tightens his arms and digs his face into my hair. “Don’t cry, Laith …”

Clinging to him, I sob harder.

“You should hate me,” I finally manage to choke out. “I— I …”

I’ve done so many terrible things.

He plants a kiss on my forehead, leaning back to wipe the tears from my cheeks with the edge of his hand. “Part of me does,” he admits, and I revel in the way that blow lands.

I deserve it.

I deserve so much more.

Looking again at the wound on my neck, his jaw hardens. He reaches beneath his cloak and rips a strip of material off the hem of his shirt, brow pinched with concentration as he gently binds me. “I’m certain the feeling’s going to be mutual once we have a moment to clear the air, but we’ll work through it,” he says, tying off the wrap. He licks his thumb and uses it to rub off some of the paint on my shoulder. “That’s what family does, Laith. We untangle our shit, no matter how messy the knot is.”

Family.

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that word until now. I tuck it deep inside, like he just gifted me a root-bound tree and told me to plant it somewhere that brings me joy.

“We don’t fucking run from each other. We fight for each other. Period. And if you ever leave me stranded on a beach like that again, I’ll kick your ass from here to the fucking stars and back. Do you understand?”

Another tear tracks down my cheek, a smile almost slipping free as I nod, running my hand up over his bare head.

Family.

I have something to fight for after all.

“Hate to interrupt,” Kolden grinds out, “but we’re tight on time.”

My eyes widen as twin canines push so far down from Baze’s upper jaw they’re dimpling his bottom lip. He whips around in a blur of motion, charging forward until he and Kolden are chest to chest. “Who’s this dickhead?”

Kolden’s expression doesn’t waver as he looks up at the menacing tower of muscle and fierce, primal fortitude poured over him.

“My guard. He, ahh—” I stumble over to them, sniffing, trying to push between them but failing to find the strength. “He saved my life.”

“Not from where I was standing,” Baze bites out, like he just slaughtered the words, then spat them in Kolden’s face. “He wasn’t the one being used as live bait.”

Gods.

“My idea. And not now, earlier in the night. When I almost choked to death on liquid bane.”

Baze goes eerily still, dissecting me with a split-second sweep of his eyes. “Well, good for him. So did I. More than once if you count that time you fell down a sinkhole in the garden when you were six.”

I’d forgotten about that.

“Very impressive,” I say, successfully wedging myself between them. I place a hand on both their chests and give them a firm shove that’s probably not as firm as I think because my body is still a bit floppy feeling. They both take a step back anyway, which I appreciate. “But we really do have to go. The others will be halfway down the tunnel by now.”

Baze’s eyes cut to me, then to the Aeshlian tucked against the wall beside the exit, watching through the gaps in his bunched limbs. Looking at Kolden again, Baze sucks air through his teeth, pulls his ring from his pocket, and stuffs it on his finger, tinting his skin and brows and smoothing the sharp edges of his ears—holding Kolden’s eye contact the entire time.

“Tell anyone and you’re dead.” He turns in a churn of black fabric, ripping the talon from Calah’s back with a wet crunch that makes me flinch.

Kolden clears his throat.

“I’ll do a sweep of the place,” Baze mutters, storming toward the hall of cells with a sword strapped to his back. “You go ahead.”

He moves out of sight, and I breathe a sigh of relief, letting my hand drop from Kolden’s chest. He clears his throat and takes off down the tunnel.

I look at Calah. At his swelling pool of blood and big, bright-blue eyes that stare blankly ahead.

I think about that haunting smile. About the way he looked at me when he smelled my blood, like he could see beneath my many layers to the darkness tucked beneath my skin.

Like he could see my ability to end him and wanted it.