Page 110 of The Curse of Golden Blood
Zydar stirred beside me, his breathing shifting from sleep to wakefulness. I forced my body to remain still, my breath even, playing the part of peaceful slumber while my mind raced with the terrible knowledge burning in my chest.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, soft and reverent, like I was something precious instead of the weapon that could save him. The irony wasn't lost on me. My death could cure him, and he was treating me like a treasure worth dying for.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
I sat up immediately, my hands shaking as I pressed them to my mouth. The silence in the room felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken truths and the weight of impossible choices.
So that was what he hadn't told me. That he was dying. That every moment we spent together was stolen time, borrowed against a debt that death would eventually collect.
I couldn't blame him for not choosing the heart extraction. If our positions were reversed, I would have done the same. I would have chosen these handful of days over the certainty of watching him die.
But I couldn't let him die. Not when I could prevent it.
If someone needed to die, it should be me.
I dressed quickly, my fingers fumbling with the laces of my gown. The fabric felt strange against my skin, like armor I wasn't sure I knew how to wear anymore. Everything had changed in the span of mere days.
The corridors were already alive with morning activity when I stepped out of Zydar's chambers. Servants moved like shadows along the walls, their eyes downcast, their movements precise. None of them looked at me directly, but I could feel their awareness like a physical weight.
"Miralyte!"
Tomos's voice cracked across the hallway like a whip. He was running toward me, his face flushed with panic and something that looked like relief.
He reached me in three quick strides, pulling me into a fierce embrace that drove the breath from my lungs. "What the hell happened to you? Pelbie told me you were opening a damned portal!" he whispered fiercely, lips too close to my ear.
I stiffened in his arms, the memory of last night's failed escape rushing back. The portal that had almost worked. The magic that shouldn't have been mine to command.
"Nothing. I'm alright," I said, quickly pulling back to meet his eyes. "I'm fine. It didn’t work."
"Fine?" His voice pitched higher with disbelief. "You disappeared for a day. No one knew where you were."
"I said I'm fine." The words came out sharper than I intended. "I need to see Gryven."
Tomos blinked, his expression shifting from relief to confusion. "Lord Gryven? Why?"
"That's not your concern."
"The hell it isn't." He stepped closer, too close, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Miralyte, you can't just disappear without explanation. What's going on?"
I met his gaze steadily, letting him see the resolution that had crystallized in my chest like ice. "You said you’d support my decision. Now is the time to prove it. Bring me to him."
Something in my tone must have convinced him, because his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."
"Good."
We moved through the palace in tense silence, Tomos's presence both comforting and suffocating. Every step felt like walking toward an execution, which wasn't far from the truth.
Gryven's chambers were in the eastern wing, guarded by two sentries who watched our approach with the predatory stillness of hunting cats. Their hands rested casually on their sword hilts, but I could see the tension in their shoulders.
"I wish to see Lord Gryven."
One of the guards disappeared through the heavy wooden door. I could hear the murmur of voices from within, too low to make out words. When he emerged, his expression was carefully neutral.
"Lord Gryven will see you now."
The chamber beyond was a study in controlled luxury. Rich tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles I didn't recognize. Books bound in leather and gold filled shelves that stretched to the vaulted ceiling. Gryven himself stood behind a massive desk, his silver hair catching the light from the tall windows.
"Everyone out," he commanded without looking up from the papers scattered before him.
