“I don’t know,” I reply, glaring at him with as much as much hostility as he does. “I haven’t tried it out yet.”
“But you will.”
I don’t answer, but I do consider it. Maybe if I explore the powers lurking deep inside me, I will have a better chance against Samael.
“And what were you doing at the Cemetery of Doom,” he demands from Cerys.
Cerys tries to smile, but her lips only tremble uncomfortably. “Come on. You must have heard.”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I have. Let me tell you the version that I have heard about how things went down. Xerxes Blazeborn kidnapped you from the hideout where your brother and I were keeping you safe, from him, and forced you to help him reconstruct his fire core so he could regroup and try to take over the worlds again.”
“That’s not my intention anymore,” I cut in. “I know that the conflict between us is old, and our experiences with each other—”
“Exactly,” Lysander cuts in. “The conflict between us is much too old and much too complex to be discussed now in a few minutes, after you broke into my castle, set fire to it, and took down almost half of my guards.”
“So let us discuss it somewhere else.” I keep my tone even.
“Sure, because you’re so trustworthy. You think I’m so stupid to give you the benefit of diplomacy again? Remember what happened the last time I did that? On the ship in the Flipside, where you invited me for a diplomatic talk?” His mouth curls bitterly. “You activated the belt of volcanoes on the seabed and tried to steal Arielle away from me. You tricked me once, you sure as hell will try to do it again.” He walks closer as he speaks, until our eyes blaze into each other, and I can feel his icy breath on my face. “I was wrong to trust you then, Xerxes, and I sure as fuck won’t be making the same mistake again.”
He snaps his fingers, and his guards start to come to. They rise slowly from the floor, groaning and taking their hands to their heads, but when they notice their king they immediately square their shoulders and kick their heels, ready to heed his command. I can feel the lower levels of the dungeons vibrate as the guards’ energy flows back into them, guided by Lysander.
“Escort the King of Flames to the highest tower,” he commands the men standing closest, who already start circling me. “You must forgive me, Xerxes,” he mocks. “I would gladly offer you the deepest, darkest, and filthiest cell, the grimiest one in the underground, but that would put you too deep into the Earth crust. Too close to sources of fire. So the highest chamber in the highest spire will have to do. Far away from magma beds and secret chambers of ember. But rest assured, you will be given very special treatment.”
That’s a covert threat that both Cerys and I understand. She jumps between Lysander and me as the guards yank my arms behind my back, and snap icy handcuffs on my wrists.
“Please, don’t. He’s not the same man he was back then.”
“He is manipulating you, Cerys,” Lysander cuts her off. “Tell me the truth—did you come here of your own accord, to talk to me, or did he force you to come?”
“The situation is much more complicated than that. Just give us the chance to explain, I guarantee that he’s got no hidden agenda.”
“I know you truly believe that, Cerys. But I don’t.”
“Then let me go with him,” she shrieks. “I won’t leave him alone.”
“No, Cerys,” I tell her. All eyes wander over to me. “You do it. You explain everything to him, in detail. Tell him why we came here, why we went about it the way we did. It’s the reason why you came along in the first place, isn’t it? But then again. You also have the chance to go that other way now.” I smile, making sure that my expression shows I don’t believe in her betrayal anymore. I’m thinking about provoking Lysander’s people, and letting them beat me up real bad up in the tower, allowing them to make me bleed. I deserve pain for ever thinking what I did about Cerys, for putting her through hell like that. As her fated mate, I shouldn’t have had a single doubt about her innocence.
The guards take me away, forcing me to break eye contact with Cerys, who stares dumbfounded after what I said. Now my fate is in her hands. The pain of having hurt her the way I did, even of having taken her like a wanton in that lumber-room tears my heart apart. Now my fate and that of my realm is in her hands.
Both she and I expected that Lysander wouldn’t even want to hear my proposal. He and I go way back, and he’s right. I’ve done too much harm to deserve even a sliver of his trust. I will accept my fate no matter what it throws my way.
Cerys
I KEEP BITING MY NAILS in a small chamber behind the Throne Hall, waiting for Lysander to return. He’s conferring with his courts about what happened, and he’s sent for his wife, Arielle the Sea Queen, as well.
I pace the chamber like a lion in a cage, thinking of ways of getting him to talk to Xerxes. But how do I get Lysander to give him a chance?
Of course, Lysander already knew about the attack of Samael and the forces of Hell against the Winter Realm. He was throwing a freaking feast specifically in honor of this. He was celebrating it. The way Sandros presented the facts to the others when Xerxes and I first snuck in, disguised as guards from the catacombs, it was clear they would rather back up Samael than Xerxes.
Maybe I can appeal to Sandros, and his obvious origins. He must be a fire fae, or at least a hybrid. His golden skin, the black hair, there’s no doubt. But I’ll need more than that. I need to make them understand, to help them see Xerxes as the man he’s become since he and I have fallen in love. He might be furious and hurt now, because he thinks I betrayed him in the most horrible way, but deep down he’s got a soul that just got hurt too often and too badly.
I chew on the inside of my cheek beside a great archway that overlooks an icy ocean bay, an angle that I haven’t seen as we hurried towards the castle from the portal. This side of the castle must be showing to the other side of the Winter Realm—can’t believe I’ve started to think about the inner structure of the castle in order to help Xerxes break out if nothing else works. But Lysander of all people should understand what a fated mates’ bond means, and what it does to people, shouldn’t he? He will end up understanding why he needs to help us, he must.
But it definitely looks like he won’t when the grand doors open, and he walks in, this time dressed in what looks like silver leather, ornate with flowing, rounded fae patterms, a silver cape flowing behind him like a stream as he walks towards me. His closest courts follow behind him, including his half-brother Sandros, who wears a completely black outfit and a grim expression that reminds me of Duke Draven.
I freeze facing them, not even knowing what to do with my hands. I just let my arms hang by my sides, then cross them over my chest, then let them fall again, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, and calling Nazarean all kinds of names in my head for not even peeking out from under my braided ponytail. I understand this is the Lord of Winter, and he’s got too much respect to even show his face and all, but come on, I could really use some support right now.
“Cerys, I’m sorry,” the Lord of Winter begins. “Before we talk about anything else, I want you to know that after Xerxes kidnapped you from Edinburgh we looked for you everywhere. My courts and I even debated whether we should intervene and save you when we heard that you were marrying Xexes, but we knew about the fated mates bond between the two of you, and we decided it would be better not to do it.” He lowers his gaze, shaking his head. “We’d gone through a lot of trouble to keep you safe from him, but he got to you anyway. I want you to know I took that as a personal failure, and your brother Zillard did as well. Speaking of him, I hope you don’t mind, but my closest courts and I decided it’s probably better not to tell him that you’re here. We would rather have this whole thing figured out before we make such an important move.”