Page 38 of Void of Endings
“Come to kill me, have you, sister?” Garvan asked, withdrawn.
“Eventually.” Maeve’s magic flared in warning. “But not yet.”
He bowed, his bones cracking. “By all means, postpone my agony. Aran was quite good at it.”
Maeve’s heart tumbled into the acidic pit of her churning stomach. She didn’t want to think about all the ways Aran would have tormented Garvan. He could command the decay and death of any living thing, rotting any plant or creature from the inside out.
Bile coated the back of her throat, but she remained steadfast. She would not let those thoughts sway her from killing Garvan.
“You intend to end our father’s life.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.
He blew out a ragged breath, the greasy tendrils of his hair fluttering slightly. “I intend to have a discussion with him.”
“Not tonight.” She stalked toward him, but Garvan held his ground, plastering one bony hand against the smooth stone wall to keep him upright. “Why?”
He glared at her. “Why what?”
Maeve searched his emerald eyes, looking for that one shred of merit she knew resided in the darkest part of his soul. She’d seen it…once. “Why did you choose her over us?”
His mouth pressed into a firm line. “I did what I thought was best for Autumn.”
“By cursing our father to remain a fox forever?” Maeve shook her head. He was unbelievable.
“He wasn’there.” Pain lanced through Garvan and his expression changed, morphing from one of anger to harrowing grief. She saw it in his eyes, that endless sea of sorrow. Of fear. And for a moment, the male standing before her was no longer a merciless traitor, but a terrified High Prince who’d lost everything. “Our father’s mind was lost to madness. When our mother vanished, it wrecked him. When she died, it ruined him. For years after her disappearance, he blamed himself. She left without a trace. We had no idea the reason she abandoned us was to keep you safe.”
Regret clutched Maeve’s heart, squeezing until she could barely breathe. “And you thought Parisa would help?”
Garvan shrugged, his gaze drifting to the floor. “She offered me control over Autumn. I thought I was saving our Court.”
“And what did you give her in return?” Maeve asked, suddenly fearful of the answer.
“An eternity of servitude.” He ducked his head. “I can never deny her. Never refuse her.”
When he looked back up at her, a glassy sheen glazed his eyes and pinned her with remorse. “Use your blade against me, dear sister. For you would be doing me the greatest of favors.”
Maeve stepped back. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to pity him. She wanted to feel the rush of rage, of hatred, for all the wicked things he’d done. When she killed him, she wanted to stare into his eyes and smile as the life drained from his body. She didn’t want to wrap him in empathy, she wanted revenge.
She lowered her Aurastone, barely. “Let me help you.”
A sad laugh escaped him. “It’s too late for me, Maeve. I know where I’m going once I die, and it is not the eternal paradise of Maghmell.”
The Sluagh. Even in death, he would become Parisa’s slave.
Her heart fractured. “Garvan, I?—”
“Do it now and do it quickly,” he begged. “Before she realizes she has access to my mind again. Before she can compel me to kill anyone else.”
Again, she backed away from him but he ambled toward her, desperation filling his watery gaze.
“Do not pity me, sister.” His hand closed around her wrist and she struggled to wrench herself free from his hold.
From down the hall, a door burst open, the walls shuddering in the wake of the High King of Autumn. Dorian stood a few feet away, his powerful aura glowing around him. “What is the meaning of this?”
Maeve opened her mouth to explain, but there was a suck of harsh air, and she watched in horror as Garvan plunged her Aurastone into his own heart.
His slight body slumped against her and she caught him in her arms, a trail of something sticky and warm sliding down her wrist. Carefully, Maeve sank onto her knees with Garvan’s head coming to rest on her lap. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, spilling down his chin. He gripped her hand, his fingers nearly frozen against her skin. The green of his eyes warmed one final time, and he gave her a broken smile.
“Garvan.” His name slipped from her lips in a grating whisper.
