Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
“You fought well today.”
“Thank you.” A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “You did, too.”
“Yes, well, I’m expected to.” She shifts her forelegs, revealing Xaden standing at the edge of the ravine, his back turned toward me. “Be careful of your words.”
“That’s ironic coming from you,” I mutter but move forward, surveying him. There’s a laceration across his upper back, but that’s all I see as I walk to his side, keeping my toes a few inches from the edge, where his damn near hang over. “What happened?”
“I killed him.” His voice is flat, and so is his expression, the noon sun cutting away almost every shadow from his face. “Snapped whatever tether he had on me and killed him. His body fell into the ravine, and now I keep watching the river like it’s going to pop back up, even though I know he’s miles downstream by now.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” I reach for his hand, but he tugs it away.
“I’m not. You saved us.”
“My mother saved us.” My voice cracks. “She had Sloane siphon Aimsir’s power and both their life energies into the wardstone. She’s gone.”
His eyes slide closed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“She killed your father. Why would you be sorry?” I swipe at another tear that leaks out.
“I didn’t want her dead,” he says softly. “I could never want anyone you love dead.”
Silence falls over us, and it’s not the comfortable kind.
“Melgren wants us to come back,” I throw out there, looking for some reaction, any reaction.
“Then we come back.” He nods. “Aretia’s wards are already weakening, and these are intact. Which you’ll explain to me later, right?” His gaze flicks sideways at me but quickly leaves, like I’m painful to look at.
“I’ll explain,” I promise.
“Good.” He nods. “It’s safer for you here. This is where we should be.” He drags in a shaky breath, then laughs. “You won’t be as scared under the full wards.”
My brow furrows. “I just fought an entire wyvern army, dark wielders, and raised wards, losing my mother in the process. Please, do tell me what could possibly be scarier than that?”
“You love me,” he whispers.
“You know I do.” I grab hold of his hand, and my stomach twists when he turns toward me but lowers his eyes. “What’s out there that I should be scared of, Xaden? What did he tell you? What did you see?” What could he know that has him this shaken?
Slowly, he drags his gaze up my body, and it feels like it takes years for him to just look at me.
When he finally does, I gasp, my hand tightening on his in reflex.
No. That single word is all I can think, feel, scream internally as I stare up at the man I’m hopelessly in love with.
“Me,” he whispers, a faint, almost indistinguishable red ring emanating from his gold-flecked onyx irises. “You should be scared of me.”
We have tried every method we know of, as you requested.
There is no cure. There is only control.
—MISSIVE FROM LIEUTENANT COLONEL NOLON COLBERSY TO GENERAL LILITH SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
XADEN
Every note of Sgaeyl’s terror plays down my spine as I hang suspended mere feet above the battlefield, my muscles frozen, my power locked uselessly inside of me. Even if he let me go, I’m not sure I’d have enough strength left to wield. He wore me down for fucking fun.
I was never a match for him. None of us are.
Every nerve in my body screams from the pain of incineration, the heat from wielding too much for too long burning me alive. But worse than the pain is the defeat.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Nearing burnout?” The Sage walks a slow circle around me, his blue robes darker at the hem from the melting snow, mere feet from the ravine I had to cross to prove I could cut it in this place. “Magic does like everything in balance. Take too much and she’ll consume you for overstepping.”
I tear at the bonds he has wrapped around me, invisible strings of power that bind me like a trussed chicken.
“You strike. I block. You throw. I dodge.” He sighs, dragging his staff in the dirt behind him.
Just like my fucking nightmares.
Except the sweat dripping down the back of my neck reminds me that this is very much my reality. That Violet is beneath Basgiath, fighting to raise the wards; that Tairn is picking off the wyverns tearing at Sgaeyl above me to keep her from my side. What is it about me that fails the females in my life?
“So, I’m going to give you one last chance to make the right choice so we can get this over with,” the Sage says, stopping in front of me and smiling up at me with those eerie red-rimmed eyes and spider-webbed veins. He retreats a handful of steps, then taps the staff on the ground.