Page 66 of The Fated and the Damned
“Goddess above. He really did it. He actually put the crown on his head.” I stared at Dante, eyes wide, body trembling as belatedly, I realised what that meant. What the crown had done to him—what it would soon do to me.
This was but a taste of its power—I knew it. It was going to tear me apart, and I … I was fucking terrified. Swallowing back my fear and triple checking Dante’s chest was still moving, I glanced at the others.
“Is everyone okay?”
András groaned as he lifted himself from the floor, his hair mussed and a fresh slice in his cheek. He propped his chin on one hand, blinking profusely. “Define ‘okay’.”
I sighed in relief, my gaze raking over Margit. She appeared unharmed, thank the gods.
“It worked,” she said, eyes wide as she shook her head. “It fucking worked.” She stood, dusting off her skirts, her whole frame shuddering as a long breath escaped her. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”
“Never,” I agreed.
She huffed, smoothing back her locks and immediately gathering supplies from around the room as well as a hefty tome I recognised from my village. “I’ll need to close the door now that we’re done with that awful place. The demons can still get through.”
I watched, too tired to comment and knowing I’d just get in her way if I tried to help. When she’d gathered all her ingredients and consulted the tome, she drew a symbol I didn’t recognise on the floor, had me light a black candle, and began speaking in a language I didn’t understand. Whatever it was, it sounded creepy as hell and I wanted no part in it. Judging by András’s look of distrust and the way he perched as far away as possible from Margit, he agreed.
She sliced her palm, then squeezed some blood onto the circle—the blood seeming to boil where it landed. The candle’s flame flared blue, then winked out, a cold breeze sighing through the room before the temperature returned to normal.
“Is it—is it done?” I asked cautiously.
Margit sighed, then looked at me tiredly. “It is done. The door is closed. No demon can enter our world unless summoned directly.”
A broad grin curved my lips and I jumped on her, squeezing her tightly. She winced, and I eased off. “Sorry. I’m just so relieved. You saved his life—and he did it, Margit. We have the one thing in our possession that can defeat Sylvie.”
“You can’t seriously still be thinking of using the crown, are you?” András asked, squinting at me. “For whatever insane purpose, Dante used it in the Under World and barely escaped with his life. If you had waited any longer, he would probably be dead, Kitarni.”
“I know that,” I snapped, rubbing a hand over my face. Fuck, now I was taking my frustration and fear out on my friends. “I have no choice, András. You know that.”
He shook his head. “There must be another way. If you put that crown on, if you actually use the full extent of its power …”
“It’s either that or we let Sylvie’s cultists and her corruption take us. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die fighting than let those dogs tear me apart. There is no dignity in the torment she’d subject us to. If I’m to leave this world, I want it to be on my terms.”
“Fuck your terms,” András shouted, raking a hand through his dirty hair. “You are not replaceable. The hole you leave cannot be filled. Not for him, not for any of us. Stop with this hero complex.” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You don’t need to save anyone or prove anything. You are worthy of your people, of us, of him. Of his love for you. You might have given up, but I haven’t. I will not watch you die needlessly.”
He stormed away, leaving me blinking like a fucking owl as his words sank in. “András,” I cried after him, but Margit put her arm out.
“Leave him be. He speaks out of frustration and fear, and his heart is hurting. Seeing Dante like this was shocking for all of us.”
I twisted my fingers through my skirts as I sat on the edge of the table. “Is that what he really thinks? That using the crown means I’ve given up?”
Margit joined me, tucking Dante’s sweaty strands back from his temple. “András feels deeply. Always has. He was just a babe when Lord Sándor brought him under his wing. His father was a drunkard and a fool, lusting for anything wet between the legs. His other love was that of the sea.” She snorted. “Eventually he drowned in it.”
“He told me his father abandoned him,” I said, recalling the first night András had taught me to play chess. “And that his mother died during childbirth.”
“Did he tell you she was a prostitute? A rare beauty, it was said.” Margit scoffed. “Like all treasures, her shine was dulled by the greed of men. They had to cut the baby from her. András’s father cared for him for a few months, but like all addicts, the sea was a drug he could not shake. He followed its lure to a watery grave.”
I frowned. “Such a sad story. How did he come into Lord Sándor’s care?”
“It was by chance your father found him. Abandoned in a box by the docks of a human village’s port.”
I jolted, eyes widening. “My father?”
She smiled softly, smoothing her skirts. “He was on a diplomatic mission for Lord Sándor when he came upon András. The old sap just couldn’t help himself, I suppose. He brought András back to be raised in the castle. Your father, Lord Sándor and Lady Yana, all treated him like their own, not to mention the maids. It’s why he’s so well loved here. He’s the thread that binds us all together.”
What were the chances? I shook my head and laughed. “Sometimes I think my world can’t get any smaller, but then a little light shines on new shores.”
Margit patted my hand gently. “In a way, it kind of feels like you were already part of this family, because of your sire. Had your mother chosen to stay in Mistvellen, we would all have grown up together.”
