Chapter 63

The slate sea rages beneath the howling wind and battering rain, the midday sun hidden behind a churn of cyclonic clouds as I strike the metal pole against the stones over, and over, and over.

Her seed is a sputtering star, roots tugging from where it’s anchored to my ribs and the pit of my soul—a violent upheaval threatening with each agonizing pull. I picture an ancient tree being ripped from the soil in devastating increments, my claws punched deep into the precious cargo. A failing anchor.

She’s dying.

I strike the stones, again, again, again—roaring to the wind and the fucking rain.

Roaring to the sky and the sea.

Myself.

My beast is a restless shadow slashing at my insides. Desperate to rip through my skin and make it right.

She fell just like Rai fell, and I can’t stop seeing it.

Relivingit.

The ocean balloons with an eruption of angry bubbles, and I heave a guttural breath. That invisible pulse thumps against me with violent blows as I toss the stick and fall to my knees upon the black serrated rocks.

Water gushes aside like parting curtains, revealing a huge, blocky head half the size of a ship, dressed in silver scales. Big green serpentine eyes blink open from beneath a shelf of mossy-colored shards, narrowing on me.

Plumes of steam shoot from flared nostrils, and the beast makes this deep, groaning sound akin to a creaking ship. The water oscillates, his long, slithering mass churning beneath the waves, dishing flashes of fins and frills.

“Give her to me!” The plea scrapes my throat raw. “Please!”

I’ve never begged. Not once. But I’ll stay on my knees until I feel that flame sputter out.

Then …

I’ll rip the world to shreds.

Another haunting rumble agitates the water while my arms hang loosely at my sides. Pathetic and useless.

So fucking useless.

My animal hacks at a rib, swiping.

My bones ache, begging to crunch, jaw popping out of place as my skin threatens to split.

Those green eyes harden with lethal promise, and he plows a few feet closer to the rocks, maw cranking, exposing rows of serrated teeth. Curled in the center of his plump tongue, wearing strips of frayed cloth and binds of seaweed …

Her.

My heart plummets.

Her skin is pocked with raw, weepy craters and bulging pink boils, some with pale heads that look like they’re about to burst. Her bladed shoulder is hunched around her frailness, hip bones jutting, sharpened peaks. Like the disease has feasted on her from the inside out.

Made a meal out of her.

“Bite down and I’ll glass your fucking insides,” I growl, leaping over a shred of pearly sabers and into the pink, sinuous cavern that reeks of fish guts, landing on his fleshy tongue. “I’m here, Milaje,” I whisper against Orlaith’s temple as I swoop her into my arms. Her body is limp and cold.

Toocold.

I jump out of the drake’s maw and into the howling wind, sprinting over sharp rocks that slice into my feet while he continues to rage against my ribs—hacking.

Slashing.

I power around the bay, the roaring waves stretching up the shore, as though reaching for me. I blast up the steep, irregular stairs cut into the black cliff face, not looking back until I’m halfway up—the swiftest glance.

He’s still there, green eyes pinned to me while his huge, serpentine body roils beneath the surface.

I don’t pretend to not know why.

I know why.

He’s considering all the ways he wants to chew me up and spit me out because he thinks her life is about to end.

In a way, he’s right.

Cresting the top of the stairs, I see a slack-faced Mersi holding the door open, her eyes wide, all the color sapped from her cheeks. Rain plasters her ruddy hair to her face, her apron snapping in the wind.

Her hand lifts to her mouth as her auburn stare grazes Orlaith’s body.

Her face.

“Oh, my girl …”

“Get back,” I roar, and she shifts out of the way.

I charge past, and Mersi’s hurried, shuffled footsteps chase my thundering ones as the door thuds shut, snipping the howling sounds of the storm. Bundled in my arms, Orlaith’s slow, rattling breaths fuel my rage.

My self-disgust.

“She could still overcome this on her own, Rhordyn …”

Mersi’s words are an aching plea but pebbles to my iron shield as I barrel around a corner so fast the flames of a wall sconce flicker. “That chance is dwindling by the hour. I will not gamble her life.”

“The disease peaks at day five. She couldstill survive—”

I spin, forcing Mersi to stop four steps back, her stare running over Orlaith’s disease-ravaged body flopped in my arms like a corpse. “Does she look like she’s going to survive?”

My words boom in unison with a slash of lightning that strikes close enough to rattle a nearby window.

Mersi’s features soften as she sighs, a deep sadness in her eyes. “You know, I saw the moment she fell in love with you.”

Her words scour that part of me already raw and bleeding.

Swallowing, I spin on my heel, and charge down the hall again, her footsteps chasing me.

“She was in the garden just over a year ago, planting one of her rose bushes while I helped her mulch the others. Do you remember?”

I snarl, letting the beast inside me loosen some of his rage into the sawing sound tossed behind me as I race around a corner. Down a flight of stairs.

Yes.

“You came storming over while her hands were still dug in the dirt and told her you were holding a small fete. That she needed to see what the world had to offer so she knew what she was missing by hiding behind her Safety Line.”

I turn a corner. Plow down another short flight of stairs. “What’s your fucking point, Mersi?”

“She dodged the statement, as expected. Pretended you didn’t say a thing. Asked if you liked her rose bush. And you told her—”

“I like everything you plant,” I grit out between clenched teeth, remembering the light that kindled in her eyes. The light I ignored.

Chastised myself for.

“You planted a spark in her, then left it to simmer until she was so sick with unrequited love that she accepted the cupla of another male. You’ve been nothing but devoid to that girl, Rhordyn. And now she’s dying of a sickness that could have been prevented had you only been honest with her.”

Her words are arrows—the iron type that burns going through skin and muscle and leaves me weak at the knees.

She’s right, of course. A shame I’ll wear for the rest of my life.

In working so hard to avoid this very situation, I drove it into existence.

“And though it pains my heart to say it … I must. If you’re doing this out of duty or self-service, let her rest, Rhordyn.”

My heart stills in unison with my feet, the sconce beside me wavering.

Slowly, I turn.

Mersi stops several feet away, the flashing storm outside igniting her twisted face stained with tears.

“If you don’t love her,” she pleads, the words a strangled sob, “then let her rest.”

My blood chills so fast all four candles in the sconce sputter out, my animal a statue inside me.

Watching.

“Your first mistake was assuming a measly four-letter word could encapsulate the way I feel for her,” I say, tilting my head to the side, slicing Mersi with a stare I hope she feels all the way to her bones. “Your second was assuming I’ll ever let her go. Make a third and we’re done.”

There’s a moment of taut stillness.

Mersi’s cheeks swell, a smile breaking across her face, reaching her eyes. Confused, I frown, watching her loosen the knot of her apron strings.

Taking it off.

She bunches it in her hands and swats a tear from her cheek. “Then she doesn’t need me anymore,” she says, peering up at me through glassy eyes, a fresh smile welling, though it stems a little when she looks at Orlaith. “Give her a kiss for me. Tell her a measly four-letter word cannot encapsulate the way I feel about her, and that I’ll be over to share tea when she’s well.”

My frown deepens.

She nears me, and I give her my back, standing stiff as she passes—not wanting to risk contact between them, though she still sets her hand between my shoulder blades and whispers, “If you hurt my girl again, I’ll find a way to spike your stew with senna.”

* * *

Ikick the door open, storm into my room, and set Orlaith on the bed, her body flopping against the mattress in a way that threatens to shred my skin.

Set him free.

“Milaje …”

I brush my hand across her sweat-dappled brow.

She makes a gurgling sound that breaks my chest, then opens her eyes, pupils so blown there’s nothing left of the violet. Her stare rolls around, like she’s searching, her breaths beginning to saw. Faster.

Faster.

“Rhordyn?” she rasps, reaching—

I capture her seaweed-bound hand, planting it against my cheek. “I’m here, Milaje. You’re safe.”

Her brow buckles, eyes squeezing shut.

I bracket her face with my hands—soft enough that she can hopefully sense me there without agitating her wounds—and imagine she can see me. That she’s whole, healthy, smiling and not broken in my bed.

“Is this a dream?”

“No,” I say past my thickening throat.

It’s a nightmare.

I scent her blossoming relief, and she sobs through another wet breath, nuzzling against my hand. Crying out a sharp wail of pain that makes me want to crush this fucking world in my fist.

“I’m s-sorry …”

So am I.

Her other hand lifts, her face a twist of agony as she blindly reaches for my chest, setting her palm atop my heart.

Her features soften the slightest amount.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispers, her tone growing a spine of … determination. “I need you to know I want to stay right here forever. With you.”

I frown. “You’re not going anywhere.”

For some reason, she cries harder. Her body jerks, and she coughs—deep, wet barks that make my binds chew.

She comes up for tired, gurgled breaths. “But it— It hurts …”

Those words crackle through my splitting heart.

My beast swipes at my ribs as fat tears slip down her cheeks. “I … I want the hurt to end, Rhordyn. Please.”

Please?

“I … want to spend my last breath kissing you.”

My heart stops.

She’s passing me goodbye notes like she thinks I’m going to put a fucking sword through her chest and end her suffering.

The realization sinks its teeth into the obsidian vault stashed beside her dimming seed. A chest stacked full of wounds that will never heal—too painful to even think about.

As soon as this moment ends, I’ll stuff this one in there, too.

“Okay, Milaje.” I press the whisper of a kiss to her head, vibrating with self-hate. “I’m going to stop the pain, okay?”

Her relieved sob shreds me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

So fucking sorry she didn’t get a chance to flourish. That I let her believe I hated her rather than myself. That she’ll probably never look at me without seeing the mutts that sealed her mother’s fate.

That she’s about to be tethered to the face of her nightmares.

Most of all, I’m sorry she’ll never understand why I couldn’t—can’t give her the choice she deserves. Not if I can avoid it. There’s no reality where I’ll freely offer her the weight of her fallen species. Of the entire world. There’s no reality where she wouldn’t allow herself to fall upon that blade.

None.

I lean back as a comforted smile touches her lips, her chin wobbling, lids drifting shut, more tears slipping free. “I’ll b-be a flower in your garden.”

Never.

I growl past lengthening canines, then sink my teeth into my bottom lip, swirling a gush of blood through my mouth before I gently cup her face.

Press my lips to hers.

She whimpers into me as I spear my tongue deep, lacing her with a thousand sorrys. A thousand pleas for forgiveness.

It’ll never be enough.

I drop my hand to her throat and gently massage her wounded skin, counting the seconds before she finally swallows, knowing they’re her final moments of freedom. That from this day on, she won’t be able to go a day without relying on me; her biggest, most lethal weakness.

A tender vulnerability, constantly ticking down.

I’m buying us moments, sidestepping fate, only to tether it to our heels where it’ll snap at us with every forward step for the rest of our lives. But like a starving thief, I’ll take those stolen moments and devour each one until there’s nothing left to steal.

She sucks a shuddered gasp, and then she’s deepening the kiss with the force of a wildfire, pulling my face closer. Swallowing.

Breathing.

Spine arching, she moans through the wash of pure, untainted ecstasy I feel pulsing through our building bond as my blood muddies her system, brushing away her lone existence. Planting a malignant, parasitic seed deep inside her chest.

A seed I can sense just like I can her warm, blossoming presence whenever she enters a room, or her sweeping gaze no matter the distance between us.

A seed I worship—a direct link that allows me to gush her full of strength and life.

A seed that brings us closer in every way but the one that truly matters …

Her acceptance of me.

Of us.

Her body grows limp, and I pull back, heaving choked breaths, clawing at my chest. Seeing her lips smudged in my blood as she draws sleepy breaths.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, planting another kiss upon her temple—right beside a shrinking wound that churns my heart.

Because it’s working.

Rebuilding her from the inside out, piecing her together with every thud of her racing heart.

I lean farther back, scrubbing my face, threading my fingers through my hair and gripping tight. My shoulders curl, the weight of my decision compounding …

There’s a very good chance that when she wakes, she’s going to hate me more than she ever has.

And it might just ruin me.