Текст книги "The wolf and the crown of blood"

Автор книги: Elizabeth May

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

43

EVANDER

BASTIEN,” I SAY, my voice steady despite the unease slithering down my spine.

Those obsidian eyes fix on me as he emerges from the trees. “You’ve been busy. I saw you made quite a mess in Hellevig.”

There’s a dangerous calm to the words, a dispassionate sort of observation, but I’m not fooled. His power is gathering, the pressure building in the air. Shadows writhe across the ground.

He tilts his head as he scents the air. “You’re struggling. Ruptured organs?”

“Kidneys, twenty minutes ago. But my power’s sorted it. Probably.”

I spare a moment to cast my awareness down the tether that connects my soul to Bryony, sending a pulse of reassurance. Keep moving, vicious girl. Run until I tell you to stop.

Her reply drifts back. Is it Alexios?

My brother. Move your ass, Devaliant.

Then I slam down my mental walls, halting the flow of sensation between us. No need for her to feel every hit I’m about to take as Bastien extracts his pound of flesh.

My brother takes another long inhale, scenting again. “You soulbonded. I can smell her Claim all over you.”

There’s no use pretending. No way to sidestep or spin the truth into something more palatable. So I don’t bother.

“Yes.”

Something flashes across Bastien’s features—a fleeting crack in that impassive mask. It’s there in the tightening around his eyes, the almost imperceptible tic in his jaw.

If Bastien had actual expressions instead of microsecond blips in an otherwise flawless veneer of control, I’d call it incandescent rage.

“You looked me in the eye,” he says with that eerie calm that’s a thousand times worse than yelling, “and swore you’d end her. You lied to me again.”

I dig my nails into my palms until it stings, using the small pain as a focal point—an anchor. Because I deserve whatever’s coming. We both know it. I made a promise to my brother, and pissed all over it the second I fell stupid in love with the one woman I was never supposed to touch.

“I’m protecting what’s mine.”

We want what we want. Even when we know it’ll destroy us.

“Yours,” he says. “The mortal with the blood of our enemies in her veins. That’s what you’re willing to trade your honor for?”

“Don’t—”

But before I can choke out another word—before I manage to throw up my mental shields—a wave of shadow slams into me and lashes through my mind. Frantically, I try to shore up the crumbling bulwarks, but I’m weakened and sluggish. My power is drained after the shit I pulled in Hellevig.

“Do you remember,” he murmurs, “the vows you swore to me after you pulled me out of the Bloody Court?”

Vertigo crashes through me. The sickening swoop in the pit of my stomach. And then the world is pitching around me, Bastien’s shadows rising to blot out the sky as he drags me under.

Down, down, down—into the rawest depths of recall.

The dank stone of the Court’s killing floor flashes through my head in flickers and starts. The stench of sweat and spilled viscera. And there, chained at the center of it all…

My brother.

His wings gone. They’d carved him up like a slab of meat, stole pieces of him that could never be replaced or regrown, even with an Eternal’s power.

And after, when I finally fought my way to him? When I cut him down and dragged his broken body back to Scillari? I swore to him I would make it right.

“They held me down and used me, Evander,” Bastien says, still in that remote tone. “Violated me. Mutilated me until I was unrecognizable. And I never begged, not even when they took my wings.” He straightens, flicking a leaf from his coat. “There’s a very specific sound it makes when they hack through a limb that size. The tendons pop and snap. Bones splinter. And it feels like the worst nightmare imaginable. You get dizzy. Detached. Like you’ve slipped out of your skin, and you’re watching it happen to someone else. You know what carried me through? What kept me fighting?” His eyes meet mine. “Knowing you would come. That you’d rip me out of that place and keep your promise to avenge us. Or have you forgotten that, too?”

I grit my teeth, reaching for composure. But all I see is Bryony, bright and burning in my mind. The glittering mark of my shiny new Claim glowing on her wrist.

You told me once that you would crave me in any lifetime, across every eternity. And I wanted to tell you… I’d find you in all of them.

Bastien’s expression darkens. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

And then he’s on me.

His fist cracks into my jaw in an explosion of agony. I feel the bone pulverize and taste the hot, copper gush of blood flooding my mouth. He hits me again—a brutal impact to the ribs that sends me sprawling.

“Fight back,” he snarls.

Another ruthless blow to the solar plexus.

I hit the dirt. Fire screams along my side. “I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.”

He looms over me. “Get up. Get up so I can put you back down.”

Slowly, I force myself to my feet—and I finally understand what this is. What he needs.

He needs to hurt something. Needs to make it bleed and bleed and fucking bleed, the way he’s done for centuries. I’m the only thing that can weather the hit. The only one who’ll let him bruise his knuckles on me and not hit back.

So when Bastien slams me into the dirt, I don’t resist. He tears into me. He cracks me open and pulls me under the thrashing surface of his rage, and I let it fill my lungs. I drown in the cold of his anguish.

There are certain things we do for the people we love. Hurts we willingly hold close and secret, because it’s the only way we remember how to be real. How to feel anything at all. Bas and I, we’ve got no language for kindness, not after everything. The war hollowed those soft places out until all that’s left is scar tissue. This is how we speak without words now. This is our ugly, broken love—the savagery we carve into each other just to feel something.

So I let my brother take his retribution. I let him break my bones and split my skin and rupture my organs. Because I earned this brutality. This is my penance, the only absolution he’ll allow me.

I lie here and take it because I promised him vengeance. Swore that one day, we’d paint the realms red with the blood of everyone who stole from us, who profaned our mother’s corpse for power. Who took his wings. Who made us into what we are.

Instead, I went and fell for a girl guaranteed to rip us apart.

“You selfish, backstabbing fuck.” Bastien punctuates each word with a ruthless blow to my face. “You knew”—Crack—“what she was.” Crunch. “What she meant.” A brutal punch to my nose, cartilage snapping beneath his fist. “But you let her under your skin, anyway.”

I spit out a mouthful of blood. “I love her. More than anything.”

It feels like sacrilege to say the words out loud. Like speaking them here is its own sort of betrayal. As if I’m casting all those vows I swore into the pyre and letting them burn alongside the family we once were.

Bastien goes still above me. Something shifts in his gaze—and for an instant, I glimpse the male I used to know. My steadfast older brother, with a wry slant to his mouth and laughter glinting in his obsidian eyes.

“Then you’re going to lose her,” he tells me, almost gently. “And it’ll rip you to shreds.” Then he pulls his fist back and punches right through my ribcage to wrap his fingers around my heart. “I told you what I’d do if you bonded with her. Warned you what it would mean.”

I cough wetly. “I know.”

I want to tell him to keep going. To pry me open and dig his fingers in. Tear out all the messy, mangled bits. No half measures. No careful handling.

But then a new voice cracks through the haze. “That’s enough.”

The Eternal of Asteria lands in a rustle of red and black feathers, his wings kicking up eddies of fallen leaves.

Alexios’ face is a beautiful mask, betraying nothing as he takes me in. “Get your hand out of his ribcage, Blade. He’ll need at least half an hour to regrow that heart if you crush it, and I want him lucid.”

Bastien wrenches his hand out of my chest. I suck in a gasping breath, swallowing down bile.

Alexios’ power fills the clearing, thick enough to choke on. I snarl weakly as it presses down on me, sinks claws into my mind, and commands me to be still. He crooks a finger, and my spine arches as his magic forces me upright. Fire sparks over my skin. My own power strains against its bonds, begging for release, but there will be no battle here. No contest of wills.

I can only kneel.

He studies me before cutting his attention to Bastien. “Do you need a minute?”

My brother rolls his shoulders. “I’m good.”

Alexios radiates the kind of stillness that has heralded the deaths of entire armies. “Where is she, Wolf?”

I bare my teeth. “Dunno. Had some real important appointments to keep. You know how it is.”

“You’re dangerously close to outliving your usefulness.”

I spit a glob of blood at his feet. “Must’ve struck a nerve with you, huh? This one mortal girl. She really got under your skin. Can’t blame you, honestly.” I laugh. “She’s under mine, too.”

In a blink, he lunges. Seizes a fistful of my hair and wrenches my head back, forcing me to meet the glow of his eyes. And there he is—the despot, the subjugator. The god-king who has razed empires and salted the earth where they once stood.

“This girl,” Alexios says, soft and dangerous, “nearly killed me when her followers abandoned their tithes. It tore holes in my Shroud that the fleshtrade has used to hunt our people like animals. Or did you forget that detail while you were falling dick-first into betrayal?”

His grip squeezes harder. The leash tightens another merciless notch. “So, for my education, tell me why you think I should spare your precious Bryony instead of snapping her neck. You’ve defied the Accords. Slaughtered my Claimed. Idris is dead by her hand, and I’m down to my last Anchor. It’s only a matter of time before the Shroud fails entirely. So convince me, Wolf. Give me a single reason to let your Devaliant walk.”

“Because I made her my Chosen.”

Silence.

His eyes snap to Bastien, demanding confirmation. My brother dips his chin.

Alexios’ expression flattens. “You never did know when to stop pushing. It may go against our oldest laws for me to kill her outright, but there are so many ways to make a thing hurt without it dying.” He jerks his chin at the trees where Bryony disappeared. “Blade, fetch her for me.”

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44

BRYONY

MY BOOTS SLAP against the ground as I race through the woods.

Evander’s voice echoes through my head. Keep moving, vicious girl. Run until I tell you to stop.

Is it Alexios? I ask.

My brother. Now move your ass, Devaliant.

A tremor racks through me, but I shove it down and lock it away. I can’t fall apart now.

So I don’t slow, even though my muscles are burning. I grit my teeth and push myself harder, pumping my arms at my sides. Amara trained me to flee just in case.

Stop. Evander’s command is sharp. Make yourself small and hide. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe.

I stagger to a halt, chest heaving as I scan for cover. There—a tangle of massive roots in a hollow beneath a tree. I wedge into the narrow space, trying to control my breathing and draw air into my burning lungs as shallowly as possible. I listen hard to the distant shrieks of birds and the susurrus of wind through the branches. Every tiny noise seems magnified.

A twig snaps. Dead foliage crunches under a heavy boot.

And then a figure materializes out of the mist.

The Blade’s face resembles Evander’s—the severe slant of those dark brows, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, and a strong, square jaw. But that’s where the similarities end. Because where Evander is all tawny skin and gilt feathers, his brother is monochrome. Stark. His hair is white, skin pale. He’s like a sculpture given breath.

But it’s his eyes that make my stomach drop. They’re black—true black, like the unending abyss between stars, fathomless and cold. Primordial instinct gibbers at me to run run run as that stare sweeps the clearing.

The Blade steps forward, and the shadows bend and cling to him like a living shroud. His power saturates the air, seeking.

Looking for me.

Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t exist.

I reach for Evander—only to slam into an impenetrable psychic wall. Panic claws at my chest as I press my incorporeal fingers against it anyway.

And white-hot agony spears through my skull.

The wall is there for a reason. His tone is gentle but brooks no argument as he nudges me back. Alexios’ collar is cinching tight. Leave it be and stay hidden. Please.

That please destroys something in me. In that brief connection, I felt what Alexios is doing to him. That magical collar is crushing his throat, choking him, hurting him.

Because of me.

Fuck hiding. Fuck playing it safe.

I won’t leave him to handle this alone while I cower in the dirt like a frightened child.

Taking a deep breath, I step out to face the Blade. “Take me to Alexios.”

He turns his head slowly. The weight of that obsidian stare flays me open, and it takes every scrap of control not to look away. His eyes catch on the mark shimmering at my wrist.

Nothing. Not a word. Just those eyes boring into me. Then—

A ripple in the air, a sudden crushing pressure.

And he’s in my head.

I scream as his power tears through me. There’s no gentleness, no care as he rips into my mind, peeling me open, layer after layer. My thoughts are all exposed for his relentless perusal.

He finds where I keep my memories of Evander—every touch, every kiss, every moment we’ve shared in the dark.

Evander’s hands on my body.

His mouth on my skin.

His voice in my ear.

All my stupid, desperate, hopeless wanting.

My knees hit the dirt hard, but I barely feel it. Fracture lines spiderweb through my psyche. My temples pound with the overwhelming press of his magic spilling over me in wave after wave, threatening to tear me apart.

“Stop,” I gasp out. “Please!”

And miraculously, he withdraws, leaving me trembling. I slump forward, trying to remember how my lungs work. How I’m put together.

Why are you in pain? Evander’s voice. So focused on me, even as an Eternal’s collar strangles him.

The wall is there for a reason, remember?

The Blade looms over me with a gloved hand outstretched. There’s no warmth in that beautiful face, just the unspoken threat of what happens if I refuse.

Bile coats the back of my tongue, but I grasp his hand and let him wrench me upright. He sweeps me against his chest like I weigh nothing. The shadows around us writhe and stretch, forming those wings that aren’t really wings at all—just darkness given form—and then we’re airborne.

We touch down in the clearing minutes later.

A harsh gasp leaves me when I see Evander. He’s on his knees in the center of the glade, drenched in so much blood I can barely see skin. His flesh is knitting the remnants of serious injuries back together.

His head whips up. Bryony.

There’s so much agony packed into my name, but I lock my walls down until all I can hear is the roar of my pulse as I force myself to look at him.

Alexios. God of Storms.

Back in Vartena, I had grown up under the looming presence of his stone effigy every time I offered my blood on its altar. But that icon is a child’s fumbling rendition compared to the god standing before me.

He’s like a force of gravity threatening to subsume everything in its path. His wings are resplendent in black and red, and his eyes are an intense, glowing scarlet. A metal clasp holds his shoulder-length black hair back from his face. I look for some flaw in those elegant features, in that warrior’s physique that’s every bit as strong as Evander’s, but I find nothing. He’s beautiful. Breathtaking, even.

“Don’t,” Evander snarls. “Whatever heroic bullshit you’re about to try—”

Alexios doesn’t even look his way. Just flicks his fingers like he’s brushing away a fly, and Evander’s words die in a wet gurgle. Fresh blood pours over his lips.

I dig my nails into my palms. “Stop.”

The Eternal of Asteria turns those burning eyes on me. “I have to admire your nerve, if nothing else.” He crosses his arms. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to reveal dark tattoos in a flowing script on his forearms. “It’s almost impressive how thoroughly you’ve managed to fuck up the natural order of things.”

My hands tremble. “You mean how you upended my life? Tore away my protection on a whim?”

“When your little zealots abandoned my temple for your gates, they damaged the Shroud near past mending.” His red eyes narrow, as if he’s imagining all the inventive ways he could make me hurt. “And now you’ve turned my Enforcer into your lapdog.”

“They weren’t my anything,” I snap. “Maybe if you weren’t an absent god, and if my uncle did his job as a ruler, they wouldn’t have been so desperate for someone who gave a shit about them.”

Something dark flashes across his face. I’ve hit a nerve. “Then we’ll focus on what you did do, girl. You killed an Anchor under my protection. Even in your realm, that has consequences.” He circles me, those massive wings flexing. The tattoos on his arms pulse red. “Let’s make something clear. Being the Wolf’s Chosen might save your life, but it won’t save his. That wall he’s built to shield you from his pain? I’ll tear it down until you feel everything I do to him. A human might reconsider her choices after she feels her mate being flayed alive.”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe around the knife in my chest as images flood my mind of Evander being tortured. Skinned. Bled. For me.

I force my emotions down. “What do you want from me?”

One dark brow arches. “Want?” A low, cruel laugh. “Oh, Princess. This isn’t about wants. The Wolf slaughtered my Claimed in Hellevig, and an Anchor’s been murdered against my wishes. The Accords demand payment in blood. The only question is whose—yours or his.”

The kind of damage an Eternal could take is unthinkable. Intolerable. Evander could endure centuries of pain if Alexios wanted.

“He did it for me,” I say. “I’ll take his punishment. All of it.”

Evander thrashes against his invisible bonds. “Don’t—”

Alexios flicks his fingers again as the invisible lash of his power wraps around Evander’s throat. Fresh blood spills from his nose and trickles down his lips. Despite the pain, his eyes never leave mine, pleading mixed with that familiar fury.

You reckless creature. His snarl slams into the walls I’ve built in my mind.

I refuse to let him in. Not now. If I feel what he’s feeling, I’ll unravel.

“Name your price.”

Alexios studies me, as inscrutable as the statues in his grand temple. “What would you sacrifice for him, Princess? Where’s your breaking point? A little pain? A lot of it?” He leans close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Are you willing to die for this?”

The silence stretches. I feel Bastien’s cold stare on me, assessing. Waiting for me to crack.

“I’d do anything,” I say firmly. “Everything.”

“Hmm. Your family has a reputation for saying one thing and doing another. So, when Amalthea Devaliant crawled to me begging for clemency mid-war, I had her demonstrate her sincerity. I’ll do you the same courtesy. Three tests to prove your conviction. Complete them, and I’ll consider the Wolf’s slate wiped clean.”

Bargain for Evander’s leash, a voice whispers in my head.

I glance at Bastien, but his expression gives nothing away. What?

His leash, Bastien repeats, his mental voice cold and flat. You’re his Chosen. You can demand that his full power be restored.

Why are you helping me?

Nothing. He’s gone from my mind as quickly as he entered.

I swallow, hoping I’m not falling into a trap. “That’s not enough.”

Alexios’ eyebrows shoot up, as if no one has ever dared to counteroffer.

“If I survive your tests,” I continue, “then his power should be unbound completely. That’s my right as his Chosen.”

“Bold little human,” Alexios murmurs, eyes narrowing.

“You can’t kill me directly, so I’m guessing this is your loophole. So I’ll take my chances.”

Some calculation clicks behind that burning stare. “I’ll accept that bargain.”

Insist on fair terms, Bastien’s silent voice instructs. Parameters within human tolerances, or there’s a distinct possibility this agreement will be worth less than the air you waste making it.

“It has to be something I can conceivably do,” I press, following Bastien’s advice. “The tests. I have to be able to succeed. I can’t win if it’s rigged.”

Alexios dips his head in acknowledgment. “Fine. Possible, but not easy. I’ll suppress the magical feedback you share with Evander as his Chosen. He stays in power-suppressing cuffs until you earn his release.”

A low growl of protest comes from Evander before he breaks off with a hiss of pain.

And that solidifies my resolve. The Wolf of Asteria doesn’t show weakness, not unless he’s in the kind of agony I can’t conceive of.

“Let’s seal it,” I say.

Alexios stretches out his hand. I hesitate, but out of the corner of my eye, Bastien gives me an imperceptible nod.

Slowly, I place my palm in Alexios’. He plucks a small blade from the sheath at his wrist, slices open my skin in a shallow cut, and repeats the motion on himself. He presses our wounds together.

Power pours into me, the formation of a new tether. A shining golden cuff forms around my wrist—the physical mark of our deal.

Alexios wrenches me forward until bare inches separate us. “Sealed in blood and magic, Bryony Devaliant. For the duration of this game, you’re mine.”

Then he releases me with a shove, turning back to Evander. “Get your Chosen to my palace, Wolf. And Blade, keep our boy on his best behavior. Her first test starts tomorrow.”

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