Page 45 of Steeling Light
“No,” I snarl, but there’s not enough weight to it. “You won’t kill me, Morvael. I am not a god, but I am your weakness. You cannot destroy me unless I let you. I may not be able to kill you, but you can’t kill me either.”
I think of the man who has shown me what life should be. My daggers go back into their sheaths, and I step toward Morvael. The memory of our first kiss pervades every crack and forgotten place in my mind. Perfect control. A perfect memory.
He is a man who wants no one and nothing as much as he wants me. He’s waited a thousand years to press his lips to mine. There’s so much passion and love and need and trust. He could have anyone in the world, and he chose me. He gave his heart to me, and he’s never regretted it.
Pride rages through me like an icy fire, filling me up withpossibilities, but they have nowhere to go. Instead, they sit, simmering like a colony of ants, ready to move as soon as there is something, anything they can do.
And I smile. The pride lingers patiently, but that memory is so much more than pride. It is hope. It is love. It is every single emotion that a nightmare cannot touch.
It is life, the thing that conquers the darkness, that reminds us mere High Fae that there is a reason to take another step. That kiss, that memory, is life. Not cheer.
Light explodes from me even stronger than that night. It isn’t a manipulation or an illusion. No, the light that pours from my body is something alive; it is a part of me.
And it is silver like the moon, not white.
The possibilities understand before I do. They flow into the light, traveling through the air in a way that shouldn’t be possible. They strike Morvael as daggers, axes, and swords. They pierce him with spears and arrows.
The entire world glows as if it’s alight with liquid silver. The very air I breathe contains it, bits oflife. It gives me courage and hope, and I finally respond amid Morvael’s tortured hisses and cries.
“You are the God of Nightmares, but I am awake. Nightmares cannot control the mind and heart of someone who knows that tomorrow will be better than today. I will not succumb to fear because the worst days of my life are behind me. I have already survived my nightmares, Morvael. You have no power over me.”
He screams a final cry, and then he disappears as the silver light washes over the place where he was. Even the black smoke that had tried to pull me into despair is gone. His influence is gone.
Rhion is still unconscious, lying on the ground where Morvael dropped him when he disappeared. I rush to him to see if he’s still alive. I fall to my knees and realize his breathing is slow, but the rise and fall of his chest is steady. He looks paler than I can remember, and tears run down his cheeks, but he’s alive.
I let go of the light and slump a little as I realize just how much power had flowed through me. Enough to kill a god. What had I done? How had my light been able to attack him like it did?
I run my hand over Rhion’s cheek to wipe off the tears, and his eyes flutter open. “Ainslee,” he whispers. “Ainslee, I had a terrible dream. You were… you were married to someone else. You were happy. I… I’d lost you. Forever.”
There’s no stopping my tears now, and they run freely onto the stupidly expensive gambeson that Rhion’s wearing. “It was a nightmare,” I say and lean down to kiss Rhion. This time, when I press my lips to his, there’s no explosion of light. There’s just a sense of peace. This is right. Me and Rhion. Together.
I walked through a world of darkness before this past month. I stood against the storm clouds that always lingered on the horizon by telling myself there was no other option. I hoped to find happiness in the spaces between the tears.
But when I’m with Rhion, it doesn’t matter if there are storm clouds. Even today, before we battled a god, we were happy. Tragedies happen. Tears will be shed because that’s a part of life, but every moment with this man has been a bright spot. For the past month, I haven’t walked through the world because that was the only option. I have yearned for the nights that I could walk beside him.
I realized what life is supposed to be because of him. I never want to go another day without him.
“Rhion, I want to ask you for something,” I whisper.
He smiles up at me, and even though he’s still as pale as a sheet of white linen, he says, “I’d give you the world and moon if your pockets were large enough.”
“I don’t want the world and moon. I want you, Rhion Rahn. Forever.”
He chuckles, but it comes out as a cough. “Darling, you’ve always had me. You just didn’t know it yet.”
Interlude 5
AdelynneEmlynwasnotborn to be a warrior. She believed she was born to be a leader, but she was wrong. She even thought she was born to be a Countess, but she was even more wrong about that.
Adelynne Emlyn was born to be a mother. She yearned, not for the drama of court or the power that came with her crown, but for the smiles on happy guests’ faces. She spent most of her adult life making people’s days better than the last. A ball. A feast. A festival. She was the one who helped to fill Selithar’s streets and buildings with bits of moonstone that would shine every night.
She became the Countess of Light because she could do more from that position. Her House was not meant to fight wars or control the world, but the warriors and kings are a minority, albeit a loud one. Instead, it’s filled with people whose most important decision some days is what to eat. The majority are those whose brightest days are still so very dark.
It's not only because they wear linen rather than silk or because their strengths aren’t ones for defending themselves. Most of the world does not have the ability to control their own lives. They’re at the whim of the ones who rule, the ones who can destroy a person’s happiness with a word. Truthfully, they live lives no different from Adelynne's when she lived in Draenyth.
Adelynne couldn’t strengthen them or give them different skills. Instead, she did what a mother would try to do—make her children’s days better than they would be otherwise. She didn’t only hold balls for aristocrats. Every season, she would hold an open-invitation ball for anyone who wanted to come. They were the event of the season for blacksmiths, bakers, and farmers.
As the leader of the richest House in Selithar, she made sure no one starved or struggled as much as elsewhere. Adelynne Emlyn did everything she could to be a spot of light in a world of darkness for the people who had so little light.
