Page 83 of The Curse of Ophelia

“Lucidius?” I repeated, breaking his stupor. Malakai’s fingers curled against my shoulder.

Lucidius lived in the Revered’s Palace in Damenal, the city atop the peaks. He rarely returned home to Palerman. Was he realizing as I had that all this time, his son had been so close? Was he toiling through the guilt of a father not sensing the pain of his son? Did he blame himself for not stopping it sooner?

“Lucidius,” I said louder, an edge of pleading seeping into my voice. “We need to get out of here. Malakai…he’s weakened. We have to get him out. Can you show us the way?”

He must know how to get out of the Spirit Volcano. He was the Revered, and this land was under his jurisdiction. He had found us here, within these cavernous walls and flame.

The unmarked shift in his being that I noticed at my birthday struck me again, an unidentifiable emotion trickling down my spine. How had he found us?

“No, Ophelia,” Malakai rasped. He cleared his throat. “He cannot help us. Or rather, he will not.”

I looked from father to son, struggling to grasp the hatred in Malakai’s eyes. So bright. Burning. A flush rose to his cheeks as he glared at his father.

No, I refused, biting my lip to keep from shouting the words throughout the cave. It can’t be. The trickle down my spine spread along my bones, and I finally recognized it for what it had been—a warning.

But even as the denial roared through my brain, my heart knew it to be true. I stared at Malakai, my mouth agape, but he kept those smoldering eyes on his father, the venom in them returning a semblance of life to his face.

“He brought me here.” Underneath the malice in his words, I heard the breaking of Malakai’s heart that followed that confession. Like it was a truth he had been refusing.

The volcano could have erupted around us, and I would not have heard it. No sound or thought reached my mind other than the echo of those words. He brought me here.

My hands stumbled over the long scars crossing the length of Malakai’s back. From lashings. His father…his own father had done this to him.

“But—” I looked at the Ax carved into Malakai’s chest, grasping on to the first thing I could. “The Engrossians.”

“Working with him,” Malakai clipped.

The man standing before us, the Revered Mystique Warrior, protector and leader of our people, upholder of justice, was responsible for the disappearance and torture of his only son and heir. The love of my life and my partner. Not only that, but he betrayed our own people, those who relied on him, by conspiring with our greatest enemy.

Red tinted my vision as it narrowed in on Lucidius’s grimace. All I saw across his sharp features was my blinding desire for revenge. How could anyone enact such treatment against his own son? There was no justifiable answer, but I knew that it meant something within Lucidius had been warped. Changed into this despicable, disgusting being that stood before me.

“Why?” I growled at the man. “You kidnapped and tortured your son. You must have a very good reason, Revered.” I spat the title at him, satisfied to see him flinch at my ire.

A shadow of emotion flitted across his face. Was it remorse? I didn’t care. No amount of penance could absolve him of the acts he committed.

I’d kill him. No matter what he said next, what explanation he offered, Lucidius Blastwood would die at the end of my blade.

“I did not intend for this to be the outcome.” The Revered stood feet from us now. My sword was at my hip. In two strides I could end this, get my revenge and silence him for good. My hand flinched toward the hilt, but I froze when Malakai leaned into me, his body warm and steadying, communicating his thoughts with a gentle nudge. Not yet.

We needed answers. He needed answers. And the longer Lucidius spoke, the more strength Malakai could gain back.

“I may have believed that once, Father. But you did not stop it either.”

I tightened my arms around Malakai’s torso, sending him reassurance. I’m here for you, I channeled the sentiment into that merged piece of our souls in the Bind. Whatever he needed to say, whatever happened next, I was here.

“I only wanted to protect you. I had no control over this.” Lucidius waved a hand at the chains hanging from the ceiling, and his gaze hardened, an unreadable mask slipping over whatever emotions he truly felt.

“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “We are in your domain, certainly you are responsible.”

The Revered’s eyes darkened, the circles beneath them deepening as he angled his chin down at me. The condescension in his gaze was infuriating. “Ophelia.” An angry growl rumbled in Malakai’s chest when his father said my name, but Lucidius remained unbothered. “Do you truly believe I would torture my son?”

I was silent, unsure what to believe of the man before me anymore. The one who had been appointed Revered as the most powerful Mystique alive, but had brought shame to the title and himself. He wasn’t who I thought he was—that much was clear—and that meant I couldn’t know what lengths he would go to.

The question still hung in front of me: Why did he do this?

As if he read that unspoken inquiry, Lucidius said in his chilling voice, “Over two years ago, I made a deal with Kakias.”

“Queen Kakias,” I breathed, my hands stilling against Malakai.

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