Page 126 of The Ascended
"So your solution is to become as cruel as those who hurt you?" I challenged, moving closer despite myself. "To build walls so high even you can't see past them anymore? To threaten and manipulate anyone who might actually care about you?"
The words escaped before I could consider their implications. I froze, realizing too late what I'd revealed.
His eyes widened fractionally—the only indication that my slip had registered. He didn't mention it, didn't press the advantage as he might have once done.
"I built walls not just to keep others out," he said after a moment, his voice so low I had to lean closer to hear it, "but to keep something of myself in. Something they couldn't take or change or control."
The confession resonated in places I didn't want to acknowledge. How much of myself had I locked away over the years? How muchhad I sacrificed to keep my powers hidden, to protect those I loved, to maintain the illusion of normalcy? The walls I'd built around my own heart weren't so different from his—just newer, less tested by time.
I could see the fine lines of tension around Xül's eyes, the careful way he held himself even now. As if he'd revealed too much, given too much away.
As if he regretted letting me see behind the mask, even for a moment.
"I understand," I said simply.
He looked at me then. The guardedness in his expression softened, just for a heartbeat. "I believe you do."
He took a step closer. "Do you know why I find myself so intrigued by you, starling?" His voice was low, almost reluctant.
“My never-ending wit?” I guessed with a smirk. “Or maybe my deep-rooted intellectualism?”
"You see me," he continued, ignoring my attempt at playfulness. His eyes bore into mine. "Not the Prince of Draknavor to be feared, not the divine heir to be obtained, not the calculated death god that others worship or covet." His jaw tightened momentarily. "You look past all of that and see what's beneath. And then—" he took a step closer, “you have the audacity to give the truth right back to me, unvarnished and unafraid."
I swallowed, unsure how to respond to this unexpected revelation.
"Do you have any idea how rare that is?" he asked, his voice dropping even lower. "I've never met someone who didn't want something from me—power, protection, status, alliance. Someone who wouldn’t lie to my face just to please me." His fingers flexed at his sides, as if physically restraining himself. "Everyone sees what I represent, what I can provide. But you... you just see me. The good and the terrible alike."
"I don't know if that's a compliment," I managed.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
"Neither do I. But it's the truth."
He moved toward me with deliberate slowness, giving me time to retreat if I wished. Every instinct screamed at me to back away, to maintain distance, to remember what he was capable of.
I remained motionless, caught between warring impulses that left me frozen in place.
When he reached me, his touch was nothing like the cruel grip from earlier. His fingers traced the edge of my face, brushing a strand of hair back. The contact sent a shiver through me.
"I can't believe I'm telling you any of this," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "What kind of spell have you cast, starling?"
I met his gaze, finding myself unable to look away. Something raw and dangerous and wounded looked back at me. "I was wondering the same about you."
The admission cost me—chipping away at a piece of the armor I'd built around my heart. I had every reason to hate this man, to fear him, to use him only as a means to an end.
And yet.
He pulled me toward him, an embrace that started awkward and stiff before settling into warmth. My head rested against his chest, where I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—so mundane, so mortal, despite everything he was.
I should pull away. I should remember who he is, what he's done. I should remember my purpose—vengeance against the gods who destroyed my life.
But in that moment, with his arms around me, those reasons seemed to fade like mist.
"I meant what I said about secrecy," he said, his voice rumbling against my ear. "What you heard today must be forgotten."
"I know." The words were muffled against his chest.
"But I should never have threatened you." His arms tightened fractionally. "Not you."
