It was her.
It had to be.
So what? the bitter, broken part of him snapped. She did this to you. She cut off your wings. She dropped you over the edge. You really think she won't do the same to Xander? Won't do worse?
No.
No, she wouldn't. Gods alive, he hoped she wouldn't. He had to believe differently or he'd lose his mind. He'd never forgive himself for not doing more, for not finding some other way home, for not being there to stop her.
Please, Cassi. Please. Whatever your motives, whatever the king told you, please don't do it. Please spare him.
Magic wrapped around Rafe's legs and chest, dragging him forward. He stared over his shoulder, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort as his body turned away. Metal dug into his wrists and arms. Green sparks flashed and the metal clamp across his lips jerked, forcing his face to the side. All sight of the mist fled, replaced with darkness as he was led inside the warehouse. At the front, the king walked with his photo'kine, the man's fist encased in white light to lead them through the shadows. The ominous thud of a door closing echoed down the corridor, making goose bumps rise along Rafe's skin. Suddenly, he remembered Xander's life wasn't the only one in question tonight.
What did they want with him?
What were they planning?
They walked on, nothing but the stomping of boots and the soft jangle of metal clasps to fill the silence. The metal mage to Rafe's left was tall and lithe, a study in harsh edges and contrast, the same as her magic, while the water mage to his right was short and curvy, features as fluid as the element she wielded. Neither would look at him. Not that he expected their help, of course. They were the ones who'd trapped him here in the first place.
He wasn't a fool. He was alone, as he'd always been, no one to save him but himself. And the chances of that were looking rather dire.
The king's magic was impossible to fight. Oh, he wanted to, and he'd tried, but it was futile. The power sparkled like stardust in the air, as beautiful as it was impenetrable, holding not to his body but to his soul with a grip Rafe didn't know how to shirk. Where Lyana's magic had felt wild and free, brimming with passion, the king's was as sharp and emotionless as a blade.
When they reached the end of the hall, Kal released his magic and the world went black. As the mage pulled open the door, an eerie orange glow crept along the wooden walls, casting the king in reddish hue, the pale contours of his skin taking on a gruesome edge. Over his head, Rafe caught sight of the dragon, still bound and chained, its back rising and falling with slow, unhurried breaths.
He'd known their destination, of course, but drew in a sharp breath nevertheless, a jolt of fear hurtling down his chest and settling in his gut like bad food. A burning scent filled his nose, drawing him back to that room and to his parents and to the blinding heat so severe it had stolen his sight, the pain so intense that even surrounded by flames he'd fallen into darkness.
Still, Rafe stepped inescapably forward.
One foot rose, then the other, again and again, as silent screams clogged his throat. The king's magic pulled him along as if he were a dog on a leash, until they stopped beside a table fitted with leather straps. Jacinta removed the metal chains binding his hands.
No. No. No.
It was useless. In his head, he kicked and punched, struggling with every ounce of strength he possessed. In reality, his body sank onto the tabletop and lay perfectly still as Nyomi secured the binds. The king leaned forward, his face cast in shadow and silhouetted by the fiery aura of the beast looming behind him.
"I know you're confused, Aleksander," he said quietly, tone so emotionless and flat Rafe wondered if the man even had a soul. "But you'll understand soon. If you remember the terms of our agreement, you promised to bring me a dragon and I promised to give you the sky. Well, I'm a man of my word, like I said, and tonight I'm making good on my end of the deal. Don't try to fight it. I assure you, you won't win. And in the end, it will only make things harder. Now, I'm not saying it won’t hurt, because it will. But, invinci, as with every other pain you've faced, in time you'll heal."
A sick feeling turned Rafe's stomach. The words sat on his chest like a weight, crushing him until he had no breath.
What did that mean?
What was going on?
The king's magic filled the room, golden and glittering. The three mages stepped away from the table, back and back and back, until they were nowhere in sight. Rafe couldn't scream. He couldn't fight. His heart pounded in his chest, his lungs swelling as power saturated the air, making his skin tingle. The dragon stirred beside him, its dark scales shifting to reveal the simmering fire beneath its skin. Heat flared, not from without, but from within, as though someone had pressed a torch to Rafe's soul, setting it aflame.
He didn't understand.
And then, with horrifying clarity, he did.
41
Xander
"Leave us," Xander ordered as soon as the door of the cell clanked shut. If Helen thought to protest, the expression on his face was enough to send her quietly away. The gentle scuffle of boots faded, followed by the soft thud of a door closing at the other end of the hall, leaving him and Cassi alone—if that was even her name.
She was right on the other side of the metal bars, but he found he couldn't even look at her to ask. The haunting feeling of her stare was too much. Instead he walked, back and forth, back and forth, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. His fists, one real and one invisible, were clenched so tightly the muscles in his arms trembled. Fury stole his sight, blurring the world so he could focus on nothing but the memory of her silvery eyes, as luminescent and mysterious as the moon, churning with a single thought—kill me.
Why?
Why hadn't she cut his throat?
Why had she left him the opening?
Why?
Why?
Why?
"Gods alive," he shouted, though the words came out guttural and broken. The sound reverberated off the walls, a monster brought to life. Xander slammed his hand into the bars, the sting upon his skin a welcome pain that stifled the emotions threatening to undo him. Questions, and questions, and more questions. He wanted answers, and for the first time, he knew exactly where to get them.
Slowly, his gaze shifted over the rough stone floor, traveling back and back and back, until it reached her leather boots, then higher, up the lean length of her legs and the slim curve of her waist, past the empty sheaths, to the soft brown waves framing her neck and the elegant arc of her throat. He followed the edge of her jaw, avoiding her lips, until finally he met those steely eyes which had never seemed to match the rest of her. She was warm, the golden undertone of her skin, the bronze highlights in her hair, the brightness of her smile. He'd been drawn to her like a moth to a flame, fooled by the brilliant display. But now he saw the real her reflected in those frigid irises, as cold and unfeeling as her home.
The fight in him gave out.
Xander wrapped his fingers around the metal bar, holding up his body as his legs went weak. Even as his heart seemed to spill from his chest, he didn’t look away. His anger was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
"Who are you?" he asked. Who are you that you could profess to miss Lyana with one breath and then hide her with the next? Who are you that you could befriend my brother one day, and then hurt him like I know you did? Who are you that you could press your lips to my throat one night, and then hold a knife to the same spot hours later?