Page 214 of Blood of the Stars

Brogdon’s face shifted, a softness crossing his features, followed by horror. “Papa?” He reached for Jasperus’ face, then the wound. “Papa…” He trailed off, running trembling fingers through his own hair and leaving streaks of blood.

Jasperus pulled his son’s hands back to his chest. He sucked in a breath and shut his eyes as he moaned.

“I’ll fix this. I can heal you.” Without warning, Brogdon pulled the axe out. All three men groaned at the sight and sound of Jasperus’ insides shifting. The blood pooled beneath him, but Brogdon shoved his hand against it, eyes closing in concentration. A somatic progeny? Or was he doing blood magic?

“Brogdon,” Mayvus called out, “don’t waste your time on the Recreant traitor.”

Brogdon pulled his hands away, making Jasperus groan louder. The young soldier stood, his eyes blank once more. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He returned to her side, leaving Gaeren to hold Jasperus’ hand.

“I’m sorry,” Gaeren said, his eyes grazing Jasperus’ wounds as his own stomach heaved. His mentors had never bothered going over the healing arts with Gaeren, at least not since they’d discovered his secondary spoke wasn’t somatic.

Jasperus’ hand tightened around Gaeren’s, a surprising level of strength in his grip as the light faded from his eyes. “I forgive…” Jasperus started, his breath coming in ragged huffs. “I love him.”

Gaeren nodded, then glanced at the others to see who could take his place at Jasperus’ side. Who could heal him? Or at the very least comfort him in his death? But Velden, Lukai, and Iris had lifted their swords once more, and Sylmar and Cyrus had eyes on Mayvus, likely trying to figure out how they could still save Daisy.

“He must—he must know.” The desperation in Jasperus’ voice made Gaeren turn back, and the other man stared at him with an uncomfortable intensity. “Tell him.”

Gaeren nodded again, Jasperus’ words finally clicking. “I’ll make sure Brogdon knows he’s forgiven. He’s not the one who killed you. It was Mayvus.”

A sigh escaped Jasperus’ lips, one that almost sounded like the word “yes.” His entire body relaxed, and his hand went limp against Gaeren’s. The stillness of Jasperus’ body left Gaeren feeling equally empty.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the fight surrounding him. Heat and the hiss of steam at his back suggested Durriken and Velden had rejoined the battle. Things were coming to a swift end, and they were out of options. They hadn’t gotten the blood from Mayvus. Daisy had branded Durriken, but not before Mayvus branded her. Jasperus had been killed before he could brand Daisy.

The only option left was for Gaeren to take out Daisy’s brand. He could try just cutting off her hand. The thought still made him sick, but it would keep her alive—for now. But could he even manage that precise of a cut in this havoc? Killing her was the better guarantee. She would want him to go for the sure thing.

He turned to face the chaos. He’d lost track of half of their people, their wounded—or maybe dead—bodies mixed among the Zealots. Emeris had somehow gotten free from her soldier, but she lay on the floor near the balcony’s edge, weakened, likely from Jasperus accidentally draining her power as he died. Sylmar and Velden were left to use the remains of their magic on Mayvus and Durriken on the western side of the balcony, and Daisy sat on the balustrade, unknowingly feeding Mayvus unbridled power.

It would be too easy to run his sword through Daisy. Mayvus wasn’t even watching for him, didn’t suspect that he would kill his own friend. It would be even easier to wrap his arms around her and take her over the balcony’s edge. The thought of holding her in their last moments seemed almost merciful, but he knew it was more for his own comfort than hers.

He shifted to stand, and his boot kicked the vial of Daisy’s blood, making it clink against the stone. Something pulled in Gaeren’s gut, a sliver of hope mixed with a sickening dread. The Sun had gone to sleep, but it hadn’t been gone for long. The blood in the vial would still be strong.

Gaeren had another option, if he was willing to do it.

If he failed, Mayvus would likely brand him. And if he succeeded, any last hope of restoring relationships with his family were gone. Either way, he would be going against all his training and generations of values upheld. Worst of all, he’d be breaking the promise Daisy had asked him to make.

But it would give her a chance to live. He would be keeping his promise to himself to protect her.

He prayed to the Sun that Orra was right and that his childhood priest had been wrong. Then he took his knife and sliced his palm before cracking the vial and spilling the blood over his wound. It burned and bubbled like acid, bringing an immediate physical pain that matched the panic and desperation he’d felt when he’d tried to erase Enla’s memories, when their minds had melded and nearly broken and his mentor had managed to loosen and untie the mental strands between them.

But he didn’t have his mentor, and he wasn’t a somatic progeny. Without someone to seal the brand for him, it could take hours to settle, and he didn’t have hours. A shiver ran across his neck, like when they’d fought Arvid. Were the dark spirits already coming?

He tucked his hand against him like a broken wing and stumbled toward Sylmar, but Durriken’s fire divided them, nearly singeing Gaeren before he quickly threw himself to the ground. Did that mean Velden was also out of commission?

Through smoke and flame, he caught sight of Lukai and Cyrus rushing toward Daisy, swords still bloody from their most recent kills. In the back of his mind, he wondered if one of them had killed Brogdon, if there was another promise he couldn’t keep.

He pulled himself to his feet and grabbed Lukai’s arm as he passed, clumsily feeding him the memory of what he’d done, how he’d thought through the possibilities, started the branding process, and how now it slowly sealed.

Lukai’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in horror. Still, he placed his hand over Gaeren’s, the soothing sensation of the burn being wrapped in a coolness so the fire could burrow down deep, unable to be sensed or touched.

“You’re mad,” Lukai whispered.

“I’m desperate,” Gaeren said, his voice ragged from the pain and smoke. He coughed against it, then watched as the skin of his palm smoothed over, the strange bump so much like his bond mark but so much bigger and uglier. He could never hide this from Enla or his parents. They might have taken him back before, but now… even after cutting this out, he wouldn’t be able to hide it. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured.

“What?” Lukai asked.

“Nothing,” Gaeren said. Then he closed his eyes and reached out for Daisy.

CHAPTER 86

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