Page 77 of Forged in Blood

He takes my hand in his. “You must. And you are the best teacher I know. There is a reason she was sent to you, even if you refuse to accept it.” His eyes scan my face. “Is there something else bothering you?”

“No.” I shake my head. The ease with which I lie to my own brother surprises even me. But to tell him of the prophecy, now, on top of everything else… It is too much for one day. Too much for me to wrap my own head around. And besides, I am mistaken. Prophecies are but childish fairytales that have no basis in reality.

Osiris always loved the story of the knights and the Order, how they risked their lives to save the sacred scrolls before the Library of Alexandria burned. Maybe it is his curiosity that is feeding my ridiculous notions about Ophelia. And perhaps, as my father always told us, prophecies and legends are simply stories created to frighten children.

Giorgios leaves as swiftly as he arrived, and I walk quickly back to the house, unable to stop myself from recounting the segment of the prophecy that was revealed to me a very long time ago.

But there is one who can save the fates of all.

For the child borne of fire and blood,

Shall be our ruin or our redemption.

Bringing balance to the new world order,

Be it through peace or total annihilation.

“Alexandros,” Malachi says cheerfully as he falls into step beside me, his face lit with a wide smile. “Did you not hear me shouting your name?”

I shake my head. “I was deep in thought.”

He lets out a contented sigh and looks up at the stars.

“You are very pleased with yourself.”

He laughs. “Pleased with life, I guess.”

I resist the temptation to tell him to enjoy it while it lasts. Because despite the inevitable pain that comes from falling in love with someone like Ophelia Hart, every single second of soul-wrenching, agonizing torture is worth it for the simplest moments with her.

But I am not sentimental. Whatever goodness I had in my heart died withthem. So I say nothing.

Chapter

Forty-Three

MALACHI

“Look at her.” I nudge Xavier in the ribs and jerk my head in Ophelia’s direction. I could—and often do—spend hours watching her read or study. I pay close attention to her features. The way her nose scrunches when she’s thinking. The way she chews on the end of her unicorn pen when she’s puzzled. The way she smiles to herself when she gets to a good part of her book or her eyes fill with tears at the sad parts. My heart beats double time in my chest just from looking at her. “She’s so fucking cute.”

He grunts, but he looks up from his cell phone, and the corners of his mouth curve. “Yeah.”

I jump onto the sofa next to her, causing her to yelp in surprise. She closes her book and places it on her lap, resting her hands on the cover as she fixes me with a sweet smile. “I thought you were all too busy with trial business tonight to entertain me. That’s why I brought a friend.”

I take the book from her hands and examine the cover. “I hope this isn’t research, sweet girl, because our world is nothing like what happens in this book.”

“And how would you know? You read a lot of vampire fiction?” She rolls her eyes and snatches the book back.

“I did read that series actually. And just so you know, I’m firmly team Edward.” I wink at her, and a smile spreads across her beautiful face.

“Aren’t you a little old forTwilight, Cupcake?” Xavier asks.

She huffs with indignation. “Nobody is ever too old forTwilight, Xavier.”

He sits on her other side, squashing her between us on the couch. “I saw you reading Brontë last week. I assumed your literary tastes were a little more”—he narrows his eyes and taps his chin—“refined.”

“Twilightis a modern classic. And my reading tastes are varied. I must have read close to five thousand books in my lifetime.”

Xavier lets out a low whistle and sits back, draping an arm around her shoulder. “That’s impressive, Cupcake. Did you not sleep as a kid?”

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