Page 83 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
I met her eyes, letting her see the truth I'd been trying to hide. "Death. The end of everything. The darkness made manifest."
Instead of pulling away, she stepped closer, pressing her forehead against mine. "You're not darkness," she said fiercely. "You're the man who held me when I had nightmares. The man who brought me flowers from the market because you thought they'd make me smile. The man who carries everyone else's pain because you're too good to let others suffer alone."
"That man is dying," I said, and felt tears I hadn't realized I was crying. "Every day, every hour, more of him disappears. Soon there won't be anything left but the monster."
"Then we'd better make sure these last moments count," she said, and kissed me.
It was desperate and clinging, more about affirming life than passion. Through our bond, I felt her love for me burning bright and steady despite everything I'd shown her, everything I'd threatened to become. She knew what I was, what I might do, and she chose to love me anyway.
"If by some miracle I survive this," I whispered against her lips, "if the fire doesn't take me completely, will you still have me?"
"Always," she said without hesitation. "In this life or the next."
I rested my head in her lap as we sat beneath the star-filled sky, finally finding a moment of peace in the storm that was consuming my mind. The shadows still whispered, the crystal still called, but for this brief respite I was just a man holding the woman he loved.
The others watched from a distance—Marcus and Antonius by the dying fire, Tarshi and Septimus sharing quiet conversationnear the farmhouse wall. The family had retired hours ago. None of them interrupted, understanding that these moments of lucidity were becoming increasingly rare.
"I'm scared," I admitted, my voice barely audible. "Not of dying, but of losing myself so completely that I hurt people who don't deserve it. Of becoming the monster my father became."
"You won't," Livia said, her fingers threading through my hair with infinite gentleness. "Because you're stronger than he ever was. Because you have people who love you, who will fight for you even when you can't fight for yourself."
"And if that's not enough?"
She was quiet for a long moment, her hand stilling against my scalp, and I knew that she had no reply other than what we had already decided. If I was lost to the Veyr-sha, Tarshi would put his sword through my heart and end it. After what I’d been through so far, I wasn’t sure which alternative I welcomed more.
“Don’t leave me,” murmured Livia. She slipped her hand into my hair, making me look up at her. In the firelight her normally warm brown eyes looked as dark as a Talfen’s, and for one insane moment, I found myself wondering what our children would have looked like. She brushed her fingers down the side of my face keeping her eyes on mine. “Stay here with me, Taveth. Just be with me.”
I swallowed and tried to push away the dark thoughts in my mind. Instead I focused on the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the sight of her in the firelight.
I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the sensation of her touch, the way her fingers traced the sharp line of my cheekbone with reverent care. For these stolen moments, I could pretend I was still the man who had fallen in love with her in the wild of my kingdom, in a temple garden, in the furs of my bed, still capable of tenderness instead of the walking weapon I was becoming.
I felt the brush of her lips on mine, the feather touch of her silken hair as it fell down over my face. I reached up, holding her there to deepen the kiss. Whether it was the crystal, or whether the gods had just blessed me with a moment of lucidity, I felt nothing but love and desire for the woman who held me.
When we finally broke apart, I could see the tears glistening on her cheeks in the dying firelight. Not tears of fear or pity, but something deeper—grief for what we were losing, perhaps, or simply the overwhelming weight of loving someone who might not survive the week.
"I love you," I whispered, the words feeling both sacred and desperate. "Whatever happens in that arena, whatever I become, I need you to know that this—right now—this is the only real thing I've ever felt."
She nodded, unable to speak, and I saw her throat work as she swallowed back whatever words she couldn't bring herself to say. We both knew this might be our last quiet moment together. Once we reached the capital, once the plan was set in motion, there would be no time for tenderness. I sat up and reached for her, pulling her into my lap. She settled there easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I kissed her again. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her in close, wanting her as close to me as I could before I was lost to the darkness forever. I could feel the mate bond in my mind, a tiny golden light that flickered in the oppressive darkness of my encroaching insanity. My Aeveth. My little flame.
I pressed my face into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent—jasmine and steel, softness and strength intertwined. The shadows recoiled from our connection, as if her presence created a barrier they couldn't cross. For these precious moments, the voices quieted to whispers, the crystal's call faded to a distant hum.
"I wish we could stay like this forever," I murmured against her throat, my lips brushing over her pulse. "Just you and me, away from crystals and emperors and the weight of saving the world."
"We can pretend," she whispered back, her hands sliding up my chest to rest over my heart. "Just for tonight, we can pretend we're somewhere else. Somewhere safe."
I pulled back to look at her face, memorizing every detail in the flickering firelight—the curve of her lips, the determined set of her jaw even in vulnerability, the way her eyes held mine without flinching despite knowing what darkness lived behind them. She was so beautiful it made my chest ache, and the thought that I might be the one to destroy her nearly broke me.
"I need you," I whispered against her ear, my voice rougher than I intended. The admission felt like tearing something vital from my chest, but I couldn't hold it back anymore. "Before I lose myself completely, I need to feel you. To remember what it means to love instead of destroy."
She pulled back to look at me, her dark eyes searching my face in the flickering firelight. I knew what she saw there—the cracks spreading through whatever remained of my sanity, the way shadows seemed to move beneath my skin even in these moments of clarity. But instead of fear, I saw understanding. Acceptance.
"Then take me," she said simply, her hands moving to the laces of her tunic. "While you're still you."
I should have protested. Should have insisted it was too dangerous, that the darkness might surge at the worst possible moment and turn tenderness into violence. But the selfish, desperate part of me—the part that was still human—couldn't bear the thought of never touching her again with gentle hands.
I helped her with the laces, my fingers trembling as I worked the leather free. Each piece of clothing that fell away felt likepeeling back layers of pretence, revealing the raw truth of what we were to each other. Not the legendary shadow mage and the dragon-bonded warrior, but simply two people who had found love in the midst of impossible circumstances.
I kissed her with desperate hunger, pouring everything I couldn't say into the contact. Through our connection, I felt her responding not just to my touch but to my need—the frantic desire to feel something real before the shadows claimed me completely. Her fingers tangled in my hair, holding me to her as if she could physically prevent me from slipping away.
