Page 109 of Godbound
Ryker carefully selects a few pastries and a handful of chocolate-coated strawberries, arranging them on the plate before setting it down in front of a chair.
“Please,” he says, gesturing toward the seat. He hesitates, his fingers curling briefly around the chair’s back before letting go, his gaze flickering toward the balcony. “Unless you'd prefer to move outside?”
“I'm fine here,” I say quickly, my voice clipped. “Thank you.”
I lower myself into the chair, but the tension between us doesn’t settle. It lingers like a third presence in the room.
Ryker pours himself a glass of amber-hued spirit and downs it in one sharp gulp. The glass meets the table with a quiet thud, but his fingers linger at the rim, tracing it absently.
When he refills the glass and sinks into his seat, I catch the slight tremor in his hand. Guilt? A man in control wouldn’t need the burn of liquor to steady himself.
“I’ve missed you, Ray,” he says suddenly, his voice raw and unguarded. His eyes lock onto mine, filled with regret. “And I am so sorry I allowed this to happen to you.”
Allowed. His regret doesn’t change what his silence cost me. He let them take everything from me, and now he offers sorrow as though it is some great act of generosity.
“A delayed apology is better than none, I suppose.” Cold, cutting words slip past my lips.
The air shifts, the tension snapping taut. His expression falters. Before I would have softened at the sight of his regret. I would have let the hope win. But faith is a fragile thing, and mine was shattered long ago.
Ryker is the first to break the silence, dropping his gaze with a heavy exhale. He drags a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled.
“I deserved that,” he mutters. “I just… I hope we can fix this somehow.”
Fix this. Fix us. Fixme. As if I should want to be.
I think of Kaelzar, of his sharp, unrelenting presence, so unlike Ryker’s quiet regret. Kaelzar would never hesitate like this. He would demand it, take it, fight for it.
I close my eyes for half a breath. “Do you even know what happened that night?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone darkening. “Mael told me.”
“And what exactly did he tell you?” I press, leaning forward.
Ryker rises abruptly, pacing the room. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. “Must we relive it?” he snaps. “We’re here now. It was a mistake, a terrible one, for which both of you have paid dearly.”
“Both of us?” I shoot to my feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What, pray tell, has your brother paid for it?”
Ryker’s jaw tightens, and for a fleeting moment, genuine pain flickers in his eyes. “You didn’t see him wallowing in grief,” he says defensively. “He begged for my forgiveness, offered to marry you, even to leave at my discretion. And when I refused to allow it, he ran to the Vapor Islands, ready to give himself to the gods and become a Sibyl. My men barely reached him in time. A few more hours, and he would’ve lost both his eyes.”
“Whenyourefused him…” I scoff, shaking my head. “How convenient that your men found out right in time to save him. Let me guess, someone ‘accidentally’ informed you?”
Ryker’s face hardens, denial etched into every line. “What are you implying?”
I step closer, refusing to let him deflect. “I’m implying that Mael always has a way out. That no matter what he does, someone is alwaysthere to stop him from paying the full price.” My pulse pounds, my breath quickening. “Meanwhile, I—” My voice breaks before I can stop it. I swallow hard. “I had no one.”
His eyes darken. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” I force out a bitter laugh. “Where were your men when I was being chased by fire in the first Challenge? Where was my convenient rescue when I was about to be eaten by the Fleshleeches?” I press my palm against my chest, as if I can keep the memories from spilling out. “Where wereyou?”
He flinches, the first real crack in his composure.
Good. Let him feel it.
I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “You say Mael suffered, but you don't even question if it was real. If his regret was anything more than self-preservation.”
“That’s enough,” Ryker warns, voice tight.
“Is it? Because I think the only difference between Mael and me is that he had the luxury of your belief. And I didn’t.”
