Page 21 of Vow of the Shadow King

“Of course,” I answer quickly. “Hael knows where we are. She will have us dug out in no time.” If Hael is alive. If any of them are alive.

I survey the room again. Thelorststone has brightened somewhat since I spoke it back to life. By its flickering light, I can see the walls aren’t in imminent threat of falling. As the dust settles, the air clears, and I feel a draft of air coming in from somewhere. We shouldn’t suffocate at least.

But I know what so often follows the great stirrings. I saw the decimation of Dugorim Village just days ago, the spread of poison, the madness. The death. Will Mythanar’s fate be the same? Or will tumbled buildings, crushed roads, and buried citizens be the worst of our troubles?

A curse hisses through my teeth. I cannot stay here. I cannot remain trapped in this dark space while my people suffer. How many able bodies are even now fighting to liberate me when they should be applying themselves to the relief of the city? Perhaps this is punishment. Perhaps the gods looked out from their heavens, saw the atrocity I was about to commit, and chose to smite both me and my city for my sin.

My sin which, even now, still simmers hot in my gut.

Faraine moves. Even the slightest shift of her weight is enough to draw my hungry gaze back to her. But she merely folds her arms tight across her breast, as though determined to hold herself together. Her eyes meet mine, hard as stone.

“Are you going to kill me, Vor?”

The abruptness of her question hits me like a blow. I draw my head back, eyes flaring.

She continues, relentlessly: “When you are through with me, I mean.”

“Faraine.” I shake my head. “Faraine, I—”

“I’d rather know.” Her fingers tighten, knuckles standing out white. “Will your thirst for revenge be satisfied by my degradation? Or do you intend to murder me as well?” She refuses to break my gaze. I feel as though she’s stabbing me with two knives, one of ice, one of fire.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” The words fall from my lips like heavy weights.

She jerks her chin up. Her nostrils quiver with a sharp intake of air.

“I . . . Faraine . . .” My shoulders bow as though the rest of the palace has caved in on top of me. She hates me. Of course, she hates me. She should hate me. I hate myself, hate these pathetic excuses crowding on my tongue. What will I do? Plea for pity, for forgiveness? I don’t deserve either. Yet, I must say something.

I let out a long breath, force myself to meet her gaze. “I never meant to harm you. Not the execution. Not . . . not this. That person . . . the person who did those things . . . that wasn’t me.” Her lip curls in an expression of deep disgust. Hastily, I take a step toward her, but she startles back, trips over debris on the ground. “No, please!” I hold out my hands, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “Don’t run. I will . . . I will sit here.”

I ease my body slowly onto a fallen slab of stone, careful to keep the flimsy robe I wear closed. She watches me, her chest rising and falling with the quickness of her breaths. When I make no further move, she finally perches on the remains of the footboard, one hand gripping the front of her garment, the other clenched tight around a fistful of torn canopy fabric.

And so, we sit. In silence. Staring at one another.

It’s coming back to me now. Bit by bit. Staggering away from the bathhouse, my body aflame with desire. The embraces of the bathhouse girl, her warm willing flesh pressed against mine, her tongue in my mouth. The heat of lust mingling with the fire in my blood, growing into a furnace of rage.

Hael tried to stop me. I remember that now. She’d seen the madness in my eye and guessed my purpose in coming here. She’d tried to talk me out of it, tried to reason with me. But I’d overpowered her. Gods! Why didn’t she fight harder? She should have taken me down, stopped me from ever setting foot in this chamber! Her duty was to protect the princess. She should have honored that duty over all other loyalties, even her loyalty to me.

I would have killed her, of course. In my need to get to Faraine, I would have slaughtered her where she stood.

I rub my hands down my face, groaning softly. The fire is still there, burning in my blood. For the moment, at least, it does not drive me. I am master of myself. I’m not sure what brought me out of the darkness. Something must have shocked me, jolted me back into reason, just as it had at the execution, before thedrur’sax fell.

I feel Faraine’s gaze upon me. When I finally dare glance at her again, she’s watching me closely. Once more I feel the pathetic uselessness of my words before they even leave my mouth. But I speak them nonetheless. “I swear, Faraine. I won’t touch you again.”

Her head barely moves, a tiny, almost imperceptible shake to one side. The muscles in her forehead tense. “I don’t believe you.”

“I know. I don’t deserve your belief. But I swear it even so. As soon as they dig us out of here, I will send you home to your father. You will leave Mythanar, never think of us again. Put all of this behind you. Forever.”

Another tiny shake of her head followed by an interminable silence. I bury my face in my hands, unable to bear that look on her face. At long last, however, she speaks again: “You are in pain.”

I look up, startled. Are those tears brimming in her eyes, spilling through her lashes onto her cheeks?

“I felt it before,” she continues, her voice soft and gentle, her face pale as an angel’s in the flickeringlorstglow. “This pain. This resistance.”

My brow puckers. I don’t understand what she’s saying, and yet . . . strangely, part of me does.

Faraine rises from her seat and picks her way across the room to the window. Her back is very straight, very firm, her shoulders like a wall, blocking me out. The curtains over the window have partially fallen, but she grips them, pulls them to one side.

The whole wall shifts dangerously.

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