Page 58 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
Her hands tightened in her lap, and I caught the slight tremor in her voice when she spoke. "Yes."
The simple admission hit me harder than I'd expected. Part of me had been hoping she'd deny it, tell me I was wrong, that there was still time. But hearing the resignation in her voice confirmed my worst fears.
She glanced at me with those calculating eyes, taking in my dishevelled appearance, the bruises forming on my wrists, the barely contained fury radiating from every line of my body.
She was silent for a long moment, her gaze returning to the fish in the pool. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "How bad?"
"Bad enough that if my mates hadn't arrived when they did, I would have been brutalized by the man I love. Bad enough that there was nothing human left in his eyes. Bad enough that I could feel him planning exactly how he was going to hurt me and enjoying every second of it."
"Livia, I—"
"No," I cut her off, slamming the door behind me. "No more excuses. No more deflection. I want answers, and I want them now."
Her composure slipped for just a moment, revealing something that might have been fear. "I don't know what you—"
"Bullshit," I snarled, and she actually flinched at the venom in my voice. "Taveth almost lost himself completely tonight. He almost..." I took a shaking breath. "He almost became the monster that's been eating him alive. And you've been studying this curse for years, so don't you dare tell me you don't know anything."
"It's not that simple—"
"Then make it simple!" I screamed, all pretence of respect finally cracking. "Tell me why you haven't found a cure! Tell me why the man I love is disappearing piece by piece while you sit here reading the same books over and over again!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Aytara stared at me, her composed mask finally slipping to reveal the pain underneath. And suddenly, she looked less like the intimidating Matron and more like a woman carrying an impossible burden.
"Because I'm afraid," she whispered, the words barely audible.
I blinked, taken aback by the admission. "Afraid of what?"
She laughed, but there was no humour in it—only bitter self-recrimination. "Afraid of losing him. Afraid of watching him die trying to save everyone else with the cure."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What cure?"
Aytara's hands were shaking as she set down the book she'd been holding. "There might be a way to break the curse. To free all of them from the darkness. But it would require..." She took a shuddering breath. "It would require a sacrifice. Someone powerful enough to channel all of their darkness into themselves and then destroy it."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. "Taveth."
She nodded, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "He's the only one strong enough. But even if it worked, even if he could save all the others..." She met my eyes, and I saw the truth there. "He wouldn't survive it."
"You love him," I said, the realization hitting me suddenly. "That's why you've been so cold to me. That's why you resented our bond."
"He wasn't born of my body," she said quietly, "but I've loved him as my son since the day he arrived here. Broken, traumatized, carrying more power than any child should have to bear. I watched him grow up, watched him struggle with the darkness, watched him become the man he is today."
"Then why didn't you tell him?" I demanded. "Why didn't you give him the choice?"
"Because I'm selfish," she admitted, her voice breaking. "Because I couldn't bear the thought of losing him. I told myself we'd find another way, that there had to be another solution."
Understanding crashed over me like a cold wave. "That's why you encouraged him to keep me at a distance. Why you wanted him to treat me as just a physical outlet."
She nodded miserably. "Strong emotions accelerate the process. The deeper he loves, the faster the darkness consumeshim. I thought if he could maintain emotional distance, if he could treat the bond as purely physical, it might slow the progression."
"But it didn't work," I said.
"No," she whispered. "If anything, fighting his feelings for you made it worse. And now..." She looked at me with desperate eyes. "I can see how much he loves you. How completely you've captured his heart. It's beautiful and terrible, because it's killing him faster than anything else could."
The weight of it all—the curse, the cure, the impossible choice—settled on my shoulders like lead. "You have to tell him."
"I can't ask him to die for us," she said frantically. "I won't be the one to send him to his death."
"You're losing him anyway," I said harshly. "Tonight proved that. The darkness is winning, and soon there won't be anything left of the man we love. At least this way, he'd have a choice. He'd go out fighting instead of just... fading away."
