Page 77 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
I smiled back, hardly daring to hope she might actually forgive me.
Her hand slid up into my hair, and she pulled me down to her. “But you deserve this too,” she whispered and kissed me. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if she was testing whether this was real or just another lie I'd fed her. But when I responded, when I kissed her back with all the desperate relief flooding through me,she deepened it. Her other hand fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer as if she was afraid I might disappear.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she rested her forehead against mine.
"I hate you," she whispered, but there was no venom in it now. Just exhaustion and pain and something that might have been love struggling to survive beneath the rubble of betrayal.
"I know," I said, my thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. "I hate myself too."
"Good." She pulled back to look at me, and I saw something shift in her expression. The raw fury was still there, but it was tempered now by understanding. "Because if you didn't, if you thought this was all justified somehow, I could never forgive you."
"Does this mean you might?" I asked, hardly daring to hope.
She was quiet for a long moment, studying my face like she was seeing me for the first time. "I don't know yet," she said finally. "But I want to try."
The relief that crashed over me was so intense I nearly fell to my knees. Instead, I cupped her face in my hands, memorizing every detail as if this might be the last time she'd let me touch her.
Her dark eyes searched mine. "The man I fell in love with—he's still here, isn't he? Under all the lies and the royal blood and the impossible situation?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Everything I felt for you, everything we shared—that was real. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I know it might never be possible…”
"I don't want that to be true," she said, and I heard the pain in her voice. "I love you, Jalend. Despite everything, despite the lies and the betrayal and who your father is—I still love you.”
"I love you," I said, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. "Whatever happens in that arena, whatever comes after, I need you to know that.”
"And after that?" she asked, her hands still fisted in my shirt. "What happens to us after we murder your father?"
I had been dreading this question, though I'd known it would come eventually. What did happen to the son of a deposed emperor? What kind of life could I possibly offer her when this was all over?
"I don't know," I admitted. "I've never thought past killing him. Never imagined there would be an 'after' for me."
"Well, you better start thinking about it," she said fiercely. "Because I'm not losing you to some misguided martyrdom complex. We're going to survive this, Jalend. All of us. Because I need you all, and he’s not taking any more from me than he has already."
25
The council chamber felt like descending into the belly of some ancient beast. Carved directly from the mountain's heart, the circular space opened before us in tiers of stone seating that spiralled upward into shadow. Fire-pits burned with that eerie shadow-flame I'd grown accustomed to seeing around Taveth, casting dancing light that made the carved clan banners overhead seem to writhe and shift. The acoustics were perfect—every whisper, every intake of breath echoed through the space with crystal clarity.
And it was packed. Not just the formal council members in their ceremonial robes, but clan leaders, warriors, even curious citizens who had somehow gained entry to witness what promised to be either our salvation or our complete humiliation. The weight of their collective gaze pressed down on me like a physical thing, and I had to remind myself to keep my spine straight, my chin lifted. Show no weakness. Show no desperation, even though that's exactly what we were—desperate.
Our escorts led us to the centre of the chamber, where seven simple stone chairs waited in a circle. The symbolism wasn't lost on me—we were being judged, evaluated, dissected by people who had already made up their minds about us. I could feel the hostility radiating from certain sections of the crowd, the way conversations died as we passed, replaced by calculating stares.
Beside me, Jalend moved with careful composure, but I could sense the tension coiled in his shoulders. This was his moment—his chance to prove that his royal blood could be turned to good purpose, that his knowledge of Imperial weakness could save lives. The weight of leadership sat heavily on him, and I found myself wanting to reach for his hand in support.
Taveth walked like a man barely containing an explosion. Shadows flickered around his fingertips despite his obvious efforts to control them, and more than one council member shifted uncomfortably as we passed. I could feel his rage through our bond—fury at having to justify himself to people he'd spent his life protecting, anger at being treated like a dangerous weapon rather than a man with a plan.
Tarshi stayed close to his twin, his presence the only thing keeping Taveth from doing something that would damn us all. I watched him monitor every micro-expression on his brother's face, ready to intervene the moment the darkness threatened to take hold. Septimus, of course, walked on his other side.
Marcus, Antonius, and Sirrax arranged themselves around me in a protective formation that probably looked defensive to the watching crowd. Their solidarity was both comforting and potentially damaging—it made us look like a military unit rather than desperate allies seeking help.
The High Priestess Aytara rose from her seat at the apex of the chamber, her silver hair gleaming in the shadow-flame light. When she spoke, her voice carried easily through the perfect acoustics.
"We have gathered to hear a proposal from these... guests," she said, and the slight pause before 'guests' made it clear what she really thought of us. "Speak and let the council judge the wisdom of your words."
Jalend stepped forward, and I felt a surge of pride at the way he carried himself—straight-backed, confident, every inch the prince despite the simple clothes he wore. When he spoke, his voice was clear and strong, carrying the kind of natural authority that came from being raised to lead.
"Honoured council, clan leaders, warriors of the Talfen people," he began, his gaze sweeping the chamber. "We come before you not as conquerors or supplicants, but as allies who have seen the Empire's true face and chosen to stand against it."
A murmur rippled through the crowd—some sceptical, others intrigued. Jalend waited for it to die down before continuing.
