Page 59 of Steeling Light
“You’ve found the Gauntlet,” he says softly. “Where did my father hide it?”
“In his workshop. The one place he knew you’d never go.”
My father huffs and finally stands up. “Give it to me,” he commands.
I curse as pain fills my body. I knew it would come to this, and I hold my ground, gritting my teeth as I refuse to do as he commands. “No.”
His eyebrow rises ever so slightly. “Rhion Rahn, my blood runs through your veins, and I command you to remove the Steel Gauntlet and give it to me.”
It’s like someone replaced my spine with a burning poker. I cry out, and the Gauntlet responds to my pain, coating my body in steel. I take a step forward, the agony fogging my vision. A single stab through the heart is all it will take. A single movement. My sword is desperate to feel the slight resistance as it pierces flesh and slides between ribs like a river through a canyon.
My sword seeks blood, but I want to see the light in his gray eyes go out. I crave the freedom that his death would give me. Freedom to rule this House as I see fit. Freedom to fix the pieces of this world that he’s broken. Freedom to be with the person who is bound to my soul.
The burning down my spine spreads, moving into the rest of my bones like a fever. My joints feel like they won’t work. My muscles feel swollen and exhausted. Underneath it all is the unmistakable feeling of being burned alive from the inside out.
I still take another step toward my father, my sword turned sideways, preparing for the stab. He cannot stop me while I wear this armor. No matter how hard he hits me, I am safe. I do not have to be fast or skilled. I only need to be relentless because the look in my father’s eyes tells me he doesn’t believe that I’ll actually fight back.
Because I never have before.
“Drop your sword, Rhion,” he intones, “and give me the Gauntlet.”
Pain shoots through my sword arm far worse than any prior, and instead of dropping my sword as he commanded, I stab. The black steel moves through the air as quickly as any battle, unfettered by the pain that resonates within my body.
My father doesn’t dodge or parry. He simply twists his hips and causes my stab to miss his heart by two inches. It glides through only air, his body shifting just as quickly as my stab. He spins toward me. As if he were taunting me, his back rolls across the flat of my blade, and he slaps me across the face before he dances out of range of my sword again. He does it all before I’ve had a chance to pull my sword back from the missed stab.
“You are an insolent child,” he snarls. “Worthless and weak. There is a reason you’ll never wear the Crown of Steel nor sit onmyThrone. You do not deserve the name Rahn. How could you even imagine killing me? You, a whore’s son that I should have strangled in the crib.”
I feel the rage inside me take complete control, and the pain fades. It’s only after I’m halfway through my next attack that I realize that my anger has made the Gauntlet’s armor disappear.
Anger and Steel do not mix any more than anger and shadows do.
My father didn’t miss it for a moment, and he slams his fist into my face with enough force to break my jaw. I feel two teeth come loose as I fall over. “You would dare try to kill me? I am Gethin Rahn, the only person capable of saving this unworthy world. Calyr himself decried it, and you still think you are more fit to rule, more fit to carry the burden of a Crown.”
His foot lashes out as I try to heal my jaw. It connects with my face, and my nose and cheekbone shatter. I try to scream, but I choke on blood from the wound. “Do not heal yourself!” he shouts.
More agony courses through me as I try to ignore his command. I’ve stood up to him. I’ve ignored every command, and I try to heal through the pain, but I can’t hold an ounce of pride inside me.
I could have killed him. I should have. Instead, I let my emotions make me weak. I’ve lost the only chance I’ll ever have to kill him and protect Ainslee. No, pride has no place inside me now. Only regret.
I stare at the man who is supposed to be my father. I stare at him until he slams his boot down on my face and the world goes black.
Chapter 32
I was so young. Arrogance is a privilege of the young, and I hadn’t learned to trust anyone’s instincts but my own and Cole’s. She was right to hold things from me.
~Maeve Arden, The Future of Magic and Dragons
Ainslee
I can feel Rhion’s pain, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I stare out at the misty forest as I have for a week. It all started three days ago when there was an emotional outburst I still can’t understand, and then there was nothing from him at all for hours. I’d been so worried. Ever since then, it has been a different kind of pain. An ache. Like he’s stepped on glass and continues to walk, each step forcing the glass deeper.
That’s why I tried to postpone doing this. That first day, I’d been working myself up to talking to Maeve. She’s my Queen. More than that, though, she’s my friend. She deserves to knowenough.
I stare at the trees that are only present in Valinar. Their leaves hang like green and gray feathers from the willow-like branches. No wind blows. There are no leaves rustling or branches breaking. Even the drone of insects that is so commonplace in any normal forest is barely noticeable.
The mist clings to everything, a silent reminder of what I knew this place as until this last week. The Nothing. The enemy.
Memories flow through me of my time with Rhion in Selithar. The touches, the looks, the conversations. Strangely enough, the strongest memories aren’t the exciting ones. The first or second time I’d gone into the Keep of Webs. Fighting Morvael. Putting out the fire at the inn.
