Page 64 of Lux

Resent.

Disrupt.

Rebel.

Without that burning hatred to drive him, he felt lost.

So do I.

In any case, this feels…nice, walking with him along a darkened street in the mortal realm I once thought I’d never see.

In some ways, it’s better than flying.

CHAPTER 21

Caspian

There is something wrong in Niamh’s brain. A dark spot she doesn’t seem aware of. Sometimes, I can hear it whispering things only she can hear.

And her back. I should ask Altaris about her back.

I want to—but I sense she won’t let me. There is something she is hiding from me even if she doesn’t know it. Hiding it from herself.

A secret. A wound of some kind. It is hurting her. I can feel it. Taste the corruption coiling beneath my skin.

Yet…

She smiles as though unaffected. She views the world still with just hopeful, innocent eyes. A world she’s already seen at its worst, stinking and violent. A word that’s harmed her already far more than our old realm ever did.

A world that despises her and sees her only as a disturbing thing or something shiny to exploit. She doesn’t see it. She pretends not to see it.

As long as there is good, she ignores the bad. Her ease of doing so annoys me. A desire to see the world in only the best light. To view dangling on a swing with false wings as excitedly as genuine flight.

To look at a vamryre who gleefully described his plans to murder her and see only a savior. A lover. Someone worthy of protection.

She makes me feel weak—her of frail limbs and gaunt flesh, with a scarred back and wings cut from their stalks.

She makes me envy that strength of hers. Were she a slave of Cassius, she would not dread facing him again. She would do so with her head held high and…

She would forgive him, with all her heart. With genuine, sickening honesty. She would look that monster in the eye and forgive him.

And Cassius, that sick bastard, he would crumble.

I am not so weak as her.

Not as strong.

I feed upon my anger and plan to wield it to its fullest extent. I will find my old master, and I will gladly drive his soul from his skull. I will rip out his eyes and eat them before him as Cassiopeia boasted. We will drink his blood together.

But Niamh will not understand. She does not speak the language of wrath and hatred.

So I will hide that desire from her as she hides her secret pain for me. A fair trade. An honest one.

We will both lie to each other in one small way, with none the wiser.

Yet, why, when I look into her eyes, sparkling and ebony, do I feel a twinge of something in my chest. A part of me claims it is guilt. Perhaps not.

Perhaps it is dread for the war I know is coming. One of minds and spirits. One of bodies and souls. Cassius is coming for me, I can fucking feel him.

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