Page 16 of Enthralled

Leaving these questions to ponder later, I turn to Lodírhal once more. “Father, there has been a breakout—”

“I am well aware.” Lodírhal’s voice creaks like a broken instrument, but he takes two steps toward me, drawing himself up straighter. Power gathers in his emaciated limbs, glowing bright in his veins. “I trusted you, Castien. You vowed to prevent the evil of mortal magic from polluting Aurelis again. You vowed to keep your nightmares safe and contained. So long as you were true to your word, I agreed to not cut them loose into the Hinter.”

My eyes widen as realization strikes. “No, Father!” I cry, stepping forward to plant myself between him and the gate. “You can’t do this, not to Vespre. The Noswraiths are contained. See?” I hold up the book, which still writhes in my grasp. “This one is bound. I shall carry it back to the library myself and see it locked in the deepest vault.”

“You are a fool, my son.” Lodírhal shakes his head heavily. “We were all fools to think such beings could be contained, such forces thwarted or turned to good. How many lives were lost in the last hour alone before you got this one under control? No.” He draws a deep breath, his chest expanding, his spine straightening as more power, drawn straight from the heart of Aurelis, courses through him. “There is but one choice left. They will continue to break through from Vespre so long as Vespre is connected to our world. To Eledria.”

“But this wraith did not come from Vespre!” I persist. “You must listen, Father. It was new, manifested by a newly-fledged mortal mage. The library remains intact, the captive Noswraiths bound—”

“Enough!” My father’s eyes lock with mine, burning bright gold with accumulated magic. Magic that will kill him if he holds it in much longer. Magic that will kill him if he dares to use it. I see the death of my father playing out in my mind’s eye, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“It’s time you remembered who you are,” Lodírhal growls. “Prince of Aurelis, heir to my throne. It’s time you forgot your trolls and your library and became the man you were born to be. Let Vespre go! This was always what must be. It’s time to cut the anchors, to let the island carry these monsters away into the Hinter Sea where they can do no further harm.”

“What of the people of Vespre?” I cry. “You’re dooming them to death and horror.”

Lodírhal shakes his head. “Better one city lost than whole worlds.” With those words he lifts both hands. The world around him surges in response, the magic that makes up the very essence of Aurelis. Radiant light pulses through his limbs, burns from his eyes. That same power moves through me as well, through every living thing this whole world over. All of us answer the call of our king, sending forth our innate magic to his bidding. In this moment I see Lodírhal as I once knew him—golden and glorious, forever young, mighty, matchless. The beautiful warrior who won the heart of his enemy so long ago. The man who ruled Aurelis for an age of prosperity.

I love him. With all the heartbreak of a son who can never measure up to the ideals of his father, I love this man, this force of nature. I love him even as I hate him for what he is about to do. For what I am powerless to stop.

He aims a blast of pure magic straight at the Between Gate. The blast strikes with a shock, rippling out from this point in time and space, rippling out across worlds and realities. I am part of it as is every living soul of Aurelis. I feel my own essence channeled into my king, feel the pulse of my blood responding to his summoning. Lodírhal’s spirit burns within his physical frame, swelling greater and greater until he dominates all sight and sense. He cannot survive this last great act. I am witnessing my father’s death.

The gate crumbles under that blast. And not this gate alone. The magic stretches out farther and farther, catching every Between Gate across Eledria in its sphere. Every magicked portal leading to Vespre rocks under the influence of Lodírhal’s might. I always knew he had a failsafe in place—a spell to cut Vespre adrift into the Hinter Sea. Now I watch the very fate I sought to prevent taking place before my eyes. My city. My people. My enemies and friends. All lost. All doomed.

The glare of that destructive blast heats the blood in my veins. With a growl I turn away, my gaze seeking shelter elsewhere. Clara. She stands to one side, her back pressed against a bookshelf, her mouth open. She cannot comprehend what she sees, cannot understand the implications of this moment. I wish I could leave her in her ignorance. It would be easier for her if I could.

But there’s no time. And I have no choice.

I stride toward her, catch her upper arms, and turn her to me. Those large brown eyes of hers stare up into my face, horrified. The lack of recognition in her face is like a knife straight to my heart. Her lips part as though she’s trying to form a question, but fear binds her tongue. I’ve brought such terror into her life; yet she is by far the most precious piece of my entire existence. Gods, how I love her! Even now. Even after everything that’s happened between us.

I catch the back of her neck, drag her face toward mine. She doesn’t fight me. She’s beyond all resistance, fully succumbed to fear. But I hold her gaze with mine, willing her to feel what I feel, even if only for an instant.

“Go home, Darling,” I say. “Go home and live your life. When you look upon our child, see me again. Hear some echo of my voice reminding you of the truth: I love you. I love you beyond life, beyond death. To the end of all worlds.”

I press my lips to hers, pouring all the passion of my heart into that single point of connection. Her body jolts then freezes, shocked in my grasp. Then I feel her shuddering intake of breath, and her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers twine in my hair. Her mouth opens, her sweet tongue dancing across mine. And I know. I know that she remembers me. She remembers us. She remembers and she wants me. She might hate me still . . . but in this moment, she holds me tight and embraces me without barriers.

If only I might lose myself in her embrace. Instead I pull back. She stares up at me, her eyes blazing bright, all numb unrecognition vanished. “Castien,” she breathes. The sound of my name on her bruised lips is almost enough to undo me.

Wrenching free of her arms, I pivot on heel and hurtle for the crumbling gate. Reality ripples, raw, destructive magic lashes in a glaring vortex of destruction. “Castien, no!” Clara screams behind me.

Then I cast myself through that arch and into the unknown.

I remember.

I remember . . .everything.

I collapse to my knees, waves of memory crashing over me, more than I can bear. Before me the doorway that was a gate lies in cindered ruins. And Castien? Castien, oh Castien! Where is he? Did he make it through to Vespre? Did he survive?

Other names spring to my lips, other faces crowd my mind. “Sis,” I whisper. “Calx, Har, Dig.” My children. My children! I left them behind, I abandoned them and returned to my own world, and I never even said goodbye. How could I do it? How could I be such a person? How could I . . . how could I . . . ?

Pain slices through my spirit. Crumpling over, my head in my hands, I shudder as great sobs break uncontrollably from my gut. What have I done? What have I become? Oh, children, children!Where are they now? What has become of them? Does Vespre even now hurtle into the Hinter, beyond all reach? If so all connection of time is severed as well. In the moments I’ve knelt here, a hundred years may have already passed in the Doomed City. A thousand even. My children may be dead and gone. Devoured by Noswraiths.

And Castien.Castien.Did the tumultuous void shred his very existence, scattering him across worlds and times? Why did I not go after him? Why did I not cast myself through the crumbling gate in his wake? Why am I such a useless, worthless coward?

They’re gone. They’re all gone. Gone somewhere beyond my reach. And it’s my fault. Every choice I’ve ever made led me straight to this moment of absolute loss.

A ragged cry erupts in my ears. I drag my head up. Though my eyes are all but blinded by horror, guilt, and shame, my vision clarifies enough to see Lodírhal, the king. He lies on his back in ruin, a burned-out husk. Gasping out his last breaths. My chest tightens. I should go to him. Shouldn’t I? He is Castien’s father, and he’s dying, alone. But I cannot move, cannot make my limbs obey me. Not even when Estrilde approaches him.

Estrilde. Of course—I recognize her now. Her glamours are momentarily withered away, but I would know the cruel lines of that face anywhere. Even as I watch her step across the marble floor, she draws magic to herself, swathing her limbs, disguising the truth. By the time she stands over Lodírhal, she is once more a golden-haired goddess, complete with coiled horns arching from her forehead. She looks down at the broken king, her lip curled in disgust. Then she plants her foot on his withered chest.

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