Page 25 of A Reign of Malice
I don’t let him finish. I spin on my heel, yanking the door open and practically sprinting down the hall, ignoring the low chuckle that follows me.
Let him think it’s nerves. Let him think I’m weak.
Turning the corner, I catch a flash of movement.Dasha.Her pale face peeks from the shadows, lips pressed into a thin line. So it washerfollowing me. Her gaze drops to the crimson stain on my shirt, and something like panic flickers across her face.
I ignore the meek advisor. She’s not my concern right now.
Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I lean against the wood, chest heaving as I let the tremors take over. The taste of his blood lingers on my tongue, bitter and vile.
“I did it,”I say to Clara through our mental link.“But I’m being watched. We need to wait another day or two before we go back to the portrait.”
Clara’s response is immediate, laced with worry.“Are you okay?”
“I am.”For now, at least.
There might be consequences for tonight’s show, but I have to hope they’ll be worth it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FATED MATE
Despair clings to me like a second skin, suffocating and relentless. Every hour since she appeared has stretched into an eternity, a cruel reminder of my fate. I’d convinced myself long ago that hope was a fool’s indulgence, something to be gutted and left bleeding alongside everything else I’d lost.
But thenshecame.
My mate.
Even now, the phantom warmth of her presence lingers, a cruel imprint on my chest. Her scent—wild and fierce, like rain-soaked pine—still hangs in the stagnant air of my prison. It should’ve faded by now, like every other dream I’ve had in this forsaken hole, but it hasn’t. It clings, keeping me tethered to sanity when I should’ve long since succumbed to the madness pressing in from every side.
My wolf stirred when she first appeared, snapping to attention like a soldier hearing the call to arms after centuries of silence. He’d howled for her, desperate to break free and claim what was rightfully ours. For the first time indecades, the crushing intensity of the chains around my wrists felt bearable.
But now…silence.
I grit my teeth against the void inside me, the ache where my wolf’s presence should be. His energy had flared brightly, burning with the fierce recognition of our mate bond, only to dim once more when she vanished, leaving nothing but absence in her wake.
He’s slipping away again.
Panic surges through me, swift and bitter. Without my wolf, I’m nothing more than a man bound by dark magic, stripped of everything that once made me powerful. If he dies, I die. Not just in body but in soul. There will be no reincarnation, no second chance at life or love. I will fade into nothingness, forgotten even by the gods who turned their backs on me the day my brother betrayed me.
Aeson.
The name tastes like poison.
My fists clench against the damp stone behind me, the rusted chains biting into my wrists. I used to think of him as my other half—the mirror image born beside me, a brother in blood and bond. But the thirst for power can’t always be contained. It festers, corrodes, until crimson spills without hesitation.
He didn’t just want the throne. He wanted me gone, erased, forgotten.
Something I nearly believed he’d succeed at untilshearrived.
Like a damned fool, I told her to leave and forget about me, trying to keep her safe. Now, I can’t think of anything but her.
Her fierce gaze lingers with suspicion, but is softened by something deeper. The delicate tremor in her voice when shevowed to free me, as though she already knew the weight of the choice she was making.
I slam my fists against the rock wall, the chains rattling like a cruel reminder of my powerlessness. If Aeson discovers her connection to me, there’s no telling what he’ll do. He’s spent years ensuring I remain forgotten. My mate’s existence changes everything.
You have to hang on for her, I tell my wolf, reaching into the empty space where his presence used to hum with quiet strength.If you die, we both do. We can’t leave her to face him alone.
For a moment—barely a flicker—I feel something stir. A faint growl, more breath than sound, like the last ember struggling against the cold.
