Page 75 of Cursed By the Dawn

It wasintoxicating.

Erebus sat across from me, elbows resting on his knees. It was as though his gaze could peer into my soul.

And so, I offered my soul to him.

“I need to tell you something,” I blurted. And then I told him everything. Of my meeting with Mithras. How the voice in my head was a combination of Mithras’s and Raelion’s. How Mithras had commanded me to forfeit our mission to Citadel Evernight, but I’d chosen to go regardless. “It doesn’t make any sense. He warned me of what would happen at Evernight—he wanted me to kill him in the real world, and yet he’s clearly working with Raelion.” My nails bit into my palms. “He can’t be trusted. But if Ihadlistened to him, the Weavers wouldn’t be staked through their chests and anchored to the king of demons.”

“You did what anyone would have done in your situation. Myself included.”

“It’s just so confusing,” I said, drawing my knees closer to my chest. “He betrayed you all those years ago and wanted to kill you, but then he locked me in your tomb and ordered menotto kill you. He’s the creator of elixir and the one guiding light who can purify souls after theybecome Corrupt. Noctis’s sovereign. Ourking. And yet he’s inside Raelion’s head in the Dream Realm.”

“It’s no use trying to make sense of it. His mind has been defiled by that demon,” Erebus spat, shaking his head. His eyes shone in the firelight. For a breath, he looked almost sad. “Likely has been for centuries. We might never get the answers we want.” His attention flicked to the window, where the faint glow of a lantern outside barely cut through the night. “We’ll leave at first light. We should reach the capital by tomorrow night.”

“We’re closer than I thought.”

“Are you afraid?”

I shook my head. “Angry. And worried. If they’ve already started celebrating in Istralla, how far along are Mithras and Raelion in their plans? How much time do we have left before—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice low and firm. “We’ll face it tomorrow. There’s nothing else we can do until then.”

Something in his tone—his undying belief in our victory, his silent promise of revenge for my sake as well as his—sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to believe him,neededto believe him, but the panic simmering beneath my skin wouldn’t let me rest.

“You say it like it’s so simple,” I shot back, far more curtly than I intended. “You’re not—”

“Esmer,” he said, cutting me off again. His hands found mine, thumbs brushing my palms. “I know what’s at stake. And what we’re capable of. Whatyou’recapable of.”

The air between us felt charged, our anger at Mithras feeding into something far more reckless. He stood, and suddenly the room felt even smaller, his presence crowding mine.

“Then stop looking at me like you’re waiting for me to fall apart,” I insisted, rising to meet him.

“I’m not,” he nearly growled, silver eyes narrowing. Even in reality, shadows still swirled in their depths. “You’re still shouldering too much on your own. I’mwith you, Esmer. I will not let us fail.”

For a moment, all I could hear was my own pulse thundering in my ears. I opened my mouth to argue, but the words tangled in my throat. Tension crackled between us, hotter than the fire in the hearth, and when his thumbs brushed against my palms again, it was like a spark igniting something inevitable. I swallowed hard. His proximity, the heat of him, made it impossible to think straight.

“We should sleep,” I suggested weakly.

Sleep?

I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to peel away his clothes and feel every inch of his pale skin. I wanted to curl into his broad chest and selfishly forget the horrors we’d soon face. I wanted to talk to him about lighter, happier things—warm memories from our childhoods. Our hopes for the future.

Anythingbut sleep.

Because I feared that if I slept, I might be taken into another of Mithras’s visions. If I slept, I might never wake in Erebus’s arms again. His gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer, dark and unreadable.

“Sleep,” he echoed, though the word sounded like a challenge.

We lay down, drawing the quilt up to our chests. The small space between us felt like a chasm. Anticipation buzzed as I stared at the ceiling, every nerve in my body achingly aware of his. I watched the firelight flicker, casting shadows that danced across the room.This is going to be impossible.I turned to my side, hoping it would help me relax, but I was still acutely aware of his presence: the steady rise and fall of his breath, the faintcreakof the mattress when he shifted, the warmth radiating from his skin.

I bit my cheek.

I couldn’t close my eyes; the thought of the capital, of what might await us tomorrow, lay behind my eyelids. But more than that, the idea that tonight might actually be our last—that this fleeting moment of quiet could end in catastrophe—twisted something deep in my chest.

“Esmer,” Erebus murmured, his voice breaking the tense silence. “Are you still awake?”

I rolled over, finding his eyes already on me. In the dim firelight, his strong features seemed soft and tempting. Like a secret meant only for me.

“I am,” I whispered back conspiratorially. “And I see you are, too.”