Page 47 of The Illuminated
“But you didn’t come here to talk about your path. You came here because you saw Daelon’s shadow.”
“His shadow?”
“The part of himself he keeps hidden, even from himself. Especially from himself,” he explained.
“You see it too?”
Amos offered a sad smile. “Indeed. He wants to believe he falls under Lucius’s magickal veil of illusion. Knowing the truth could very well shatter his ego to pieces. It’s a coping mechanism that serves a purpose, and without it he’d be lost. Without such a split, he would’ve seen himself as wholly unworthy of you. That version of Daelon would have been incapable of saving you from the King’s wrath and training you to harness your power, forcing a much darker destiny. And then we all would’ve been lost.”
“I’m tired of fate and prophecy and the cosmos being used as an excuse for everything,” I said angrily, and the tide reached for me like a scolding mother. The din of the roaring waves rose and rose until I shut them out with a harsh banishment.
“Not an excuse. A reason,” Amos said, and I didn’t understand the difference he was alluding to. “This is your life. And it is certainly not an easy one.”
He had that right. “Can we help him not to rely on this coping mechanism?”
“You want to integrate his shadow into the rest of his sense of self?” he asked, scratching his beard.
I nodded, and soon I detected the cool shield of Daelon’s energetic mark at the door. Amos smiled, and I could sense the paternal love sprout from his aura like budding rose vines.
“What you ask could be dangerous. There is no way to know the consequences of such a thing, especially if it is done abruptly and without a person’s complete acquiescence.”
Daelon sat down, looking between us cautiously as his brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
As I looked at him here and now, I also saw the version of him playing with a weapon of torture, spinning it around in his hand as he gazed at his mark with such coldness that it chilled my soul. I saw him spitting accusations at me about how he knew I’d fuck up his mission with my lack of control. I saw him plunge that knife into an old man’s heart.
“If we don’t, it will just continue. It could spiral out of control, and he could put me—us—in danger,” I said, fighting my way through the words even as Daelon’s face crumpled with shame.
“I would never put you in danger,” he said, and the pain in his voice was crushing. His dark eyes held me captive under their gaze.
“Not intentionally,” I said softly. “But there’s a part of you that has spun out of control—a part you dissociated from to survive the horrific things you’ve done. And things that have been done to you.”
“You both believe this? That I black out on purpose?”
Amos sighed. “For some time now, yes. It’s your mind protecting you.”
“Fine then,” Daelon said through gritted teeth. “Do what you must. Fix it.”
“Áine,” Amos said, calmly but pointedly. “Do you understand the risk? This could irreversibly damage his sense of reality. His sense of who he is. Forever.”
I fought back tears. “I know who he is,” I said quietly, reaching for Daelon’s hand on his knee closest to me. I held it between both my palms. “But I won’t choose this for you. It’s up to you. I promised you he wouldn’t drive us apart, and I still mean it.No matter what.”
His features were conflicted as he thought it through. “No matter what?” he repeated, and I saw him as a child, sent away by his father just as he was murdered, sent away again by his mother after she told him he must live among enemies,lost until he found his reason to hope again, and, finally, I saw him run through the streets and into Lucius’s grasp.
“No matter what,” I promised.
I knew it wasn’t his fault. He’d drawn the short stick in this cosmic web of paths to freedom. His parents sent him to the castle knowing he would have to do what he must to survive, waiting for me. So that he could protect me on my journey to free the realm from Lucius’s evil. The worst thing I could do was abandon him now—to send him away like his parents had.
“Then I’ll do it.”
Chapter15
Daelon lay on a blanket in the middle of the hardwood floor, his head resting on one of Amos’s green seat cushions. His hands were clasped at his stomach, his fingers nervously tapping. When he looked at me now, I still saw that confused child, not the man who spat cruel words at me, and I found myself running my hand through his wavy brown hair. He reached for me, pressing my knuckles to his lips.
Amos busied himself lighting candles around us in a circle, humming a familiar tune.
“Will you be able to see my memories?” Daelon asked Amos. “When you’re inside my mind?” He stroked my hand with his thumb.
“Yes, child,” Amos answered.
