“We’ll only be a moment.” I try and pull my arm from Ruvan’s grasp. He holds firm. “Let me go.”
“I’m coming with you,” he insists.
“I can protect myself.”
“Riane can look after herself. And, either way, I don’t think you coming is a good idea, my lord.” Winny comes to my aid. “You’re too close to the curse. You’re in no position to be fighting Succumbed. One bite from them might do you in.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he insists.
“For what?” I ask.
“For you.” His attention rests solely on me and I swallow thickly.
“I don’t want you to.” I’m imagining him in bed again, withering away, but this time we can’t bring him back from the brink.
Ruvan’s resolute expression evaporates. His shoulders slump slightly. Without another word, he releases me and pulls away.
An urge rises within me to follow him. To hold him fiercely and reassure him that I will be all right. Maybe there’s still something for us, an ember still smoldering, determined. We just need to protect that flame, however small.
I catch his hand. “Ruvan.”
His eyes meet mine again, summoned by his name.
“I couldn’t stand by while you gave in to the curse.”
Yet again, he hears me, but he doesn’t seem to understand. He withdraws. “I know. You’d have to kill me, hunter.”
“That’s not…” I try to say, but he’s gone, retreating back to his chambers.
“Not what you meant?” Winny finishes for me with a sad smile.
“You’re speaking the same language, but neither of you are hearing each other,” Callos aptly observes.
“And what do I do about it?” I look between them, hoping one of them have an answer for my problem.
“Give it time,” Callos says, finally. “Ruvan isn’t a man to be rushed. I think you’re similar in that way. You’ll both be ready when the time is right.”
Callos and Winny head for the giant doors that lead to the old castle, working to get them open. He’s right; I’m not ready yet.
But what happens if I never am?
That question haunts me as we descend into the void of the old castle. It lingers with me as we come upon a Succumbed and my sickle does nothing to it. The silver as harmless as plain steel.
* * *
You wouldn’t understand, he’d said. The words ring through my ears. I can still see his back to me, walking away. Fists clenched with determination as he’s always done since we were children whenever a task vexed him.
I sprint through the hallways and secret passages, heart pounding in my throat. Let me be wrong, I plead with myself. But I’m not, I know I’m not. I know him better than anyone and all the pieces have fallen into place.
I know what he’s done before I hear the screams rising to a quick crescendo and then, silenced.
Staggering, I grab the wall, clutching my shirt over my chest. Nausea fights for control of my body but I refuse to allow it. I have to see with my own eyes. Maybe, possibly, I’m wrong. I could be wrong, I repeat it over and over until I arrive at the first workshop we established—his workshop.
Bursting in, I come to another abrupt halt as the scent of blood assaults my nose. So much blood…so many bodies… They’d come here with me, because of me. They’d stayed because of me. I raise a hand to my mouth, keeping in a scream of my own as a pair of gold-touched eyes turn toward me.
A monster.
I run.
