The edge of the blade cut deep into his throat, blood splattering against my face and chest as I closed my eyes. My stomach heaved as fire lit me from the inside. My shoulders slumped forward as I staggered backward two steps, folding in on myself and watching Byron’s hand fall away from the hilt of his dagger. His eyes were glossy, his mouth parted in shock as he raised both hands to his throat and tried to hold the flow of blood within his neck. It stained his skin, spilling through his fingers and onto his wrists in a heavy stream.
The hilt of his dagger burned my hand as I grasped it, pulling it free from my stomach carefully and tossing it to the ground. Time slowed, my vision going hazy at the edges. I swayed but managed to stay on my feet long enough to watch Byron crumple to the ground before me. His blank, unseeing eyes stared up at the raining, night sky, and the Void pressed in on me.
Caldris hurried to my side, thrusting his hand into Byron’s chest. He wrapped his fingers around Byron’s still heart, yanking it free and tossing it to the serpents that guarded my mother. They devoured it as if it was their only meal for the day, destroying Byron’s soul before it could have time to leave his body.
“Not all men are worthy of reincarnation,” Caldris said, rising to his full height. His hand was stained with blood, his armor coated in the thick, cloying scent of death. I raised a hand to my stomach, concealing the wound I didn’t want him to see.
Even as exhaustion claimed my limbs, I forced myself to remain standing. Caldris yanked his shackles apart, snapping the chain that connected them as he closed the distance between us. Reaching up to touch my cheek, his nostrils flared as he scented the air. His brow furrowed as his gaze darted over my face and my neck.
My bottom lip trembled as his focus finally settled on the hand covered in blood. He pulled it away, eyeing the stab wound as my knees buckled beneath me. “Fuck,” he grunted, catching my weight as we dropped to the ground. “Imelda!” he shouted, wrapping an arm behind me and shifting me so that my head rested in his lap.
The witches stepping toward us told me everything I needed to know, why he’d summoned Imelda to his side. She moved between us and them, holding up her hands to placate them. “The Veil was never meant to be anything but temporary. One of these girls needs to get to Alfheimr,” she murmured, the words sounding all too distant as she spoke them.
Caldris pulled the dagger from his sheath, lifting it to his wrist. I reached up, grasping his hand and pulling it down. “Take Fallon to Alfheimr. Whatever is waiting for her, help her however you can,” I said, swallowing back the surge of white hot nausea creeping up my throat. “Imelda thinks she needs to get there.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, staring down at where I gripped his wrist and refused to let it go.
“We both know the odds of me not being Mab’s daughter are almost nil. The Veil was created to keep me from her. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be, Caldris,” I said, touching his cheek with my other hand. “This is where my life was always meant to end.”
“Don’t you dare ask that of me,” he growled, the rumble crawling up his chest and his throat.
“I don’t have a choice,” I rasped, watching as he cut his wrist with the blade against my wishes. I closed my mouth, turning my face away from him when he tried to guide it to my lips.
“I will not sit here and watch you die,” he said, leaning his face over mine. Staring into the shock of his blue eyes, I felt the rain around us turn to snow as his magic took over and pushed away the witches’ magic.
“I would go anywhere else with you. Anywhere but Alfheimr. Remember when you told me that her daughter was better off for having been stolen?” I said, reaching up to guide the hand that held his dagger down to my heart. I touched the tip to it, staring up at him as the first of my tears fell free. “I wanted to spend eternity with you.”
“Don’t.”
“I love you,” I said, admitting the truth in my heart; he still owned me as if I could never claw him out.
“We will have our eternity,” he said, pressing his wrist to my lips. I struggled against his grip, silently pleading with my eyes for him to stop. He pushed hard enough that my lips parted, the sweetness of him touching my teeth and gums. He slid inside me, coating my tongue with his essence.
My wound healed, my flesh knitting itself back together as he stared down at my stomach, watching it seal shut as he dropped his forehead to mine.
My gaze fell to the dagger at his side, the horror of what I would need to do to escape the fate that waited for me rushing through me.
I choked back a sob, lunging to my feet as my stomach twinged with the pain of my still healing wound. I wrapped my fingers around the handle, turning to face my mate where he stood before me with raised hands.
As if he were a victim, and not the male who wanted to take me to the one place I couldn’t go. “I don’t want to go,” I said, spinning the weapon in my grip to point toward him. His eyes fell on it, a sad sort of smile consuming his face before he raised them back to me.
“I know.”
43
ESTRELLA
He didn’t make a move for either of his swords that lay just a short distance away. He just stared at me with those sad, understanding eyes as I lifted the sword at my side. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe,” he said, taking a single step toward me.
He paused, watching me warily to see if I would move to strike. My brow furrowed as I willed my arm to move, trying to convince it that killing the male in front of me was my only chance not to face the woman I believed to be my mother. “How can you protect me? You can’t even protect yourself!” I accused, my voice trailing higher as I became too aware of the audience watching our drama play out. With Lord Byron dead and the witches convinced to stop their fight, the Wild Hunt picked off any of the remaining Mist Guard who’d stayed behind to fight. Most of them fled, darting into the same woods I’d escaped in only a few weeks before.
It seemed impossible, for so much to have changed in such a short time.
“Estrella?” my mother asked. Her voice hitched, and I glanced toward her where she sat, in mystified, staring at the sword clutched in my hand. “Where is your brother?”
I didn’t answer; couldn’t keep my attention on her long enough to find the words to tell her that her only son was dead. “Gone,” Caldris answered, his voice short and ill-tempered at the reminder of what my brother had tried to do. “The Wild Hunt killed him when he tried to stab Estrella.”
“He failed,” my mother breathed, her voice and face dropping with what I had to assume was grief. Her words washed over me, the meaning behind them striking me in the chest so harshly that I stumbled back a step. She held my eyes. “Then you have to be the one to do it.”
“You knew?” I asked, feeling tears well in my eyes.
“He was only a boy when your father found him. At least he came to us as one,” she said, her voice strangled as she swallowed past the burn of the tears making her eyes glisten. “He swore the day would come when you needed his protection. Your father would have sworn he was half-delirious from starvation, if he hadn’t changed before our eyes to prove what he said was true.”