Page 75 of Oracle of Ruin

Space. I need space and time alone. This is a choice I have to make, to save everyone, and I can’t do that if he’s here stopping me.

“Nothing good comes from dark magic, Vera. Hell, it’s in the name!Darkmagic!” Rowan shouts at my turned back as I begin to walk towards the door.

Shut up. Stop making this harder than it is,I plead mentally before I whirl around to face him again. “You told me yourself that Raonkin wasn’t evil, that it was Deungrid, so why are you trying to stop me?She’sthe victim here.”I’m the victim here.“The Oracle can help us.”

“I know that, but it still exists. The curse—it catches up with you, and not even you can outrun this.”

Back and forth. Each word we trade like new lacerations on our hearts. We cut deep enough to wound, to bleed, but never to kill. And gods, we know how to hurt each other worse than anyone else.

“And you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

Stop. I need to stop before it’s too late, but I can’t.

His eyes darken.

“We still haven’t talked about that, you know. Or anything you’ve done, really. So stop playing all high and mighty with me when you’ve been lying this whole time.”

“Everything I did, I did to protect you. What would you have done if you saw Blaine then? You would’ve made things worse for both of you.”

“And I would’ve left the palace that night and no one would have died,” I snap, narrowing my gaze.

The bitter and ugly truth. If he had simply told me where Blaine had gone, I would’ve left early to help him. I would’ve been gone before Ophelus was ready. No one would have died.Tanjawould not have died. I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat and press my forehead against the cool stone wall.

Every muscle in Rowan’s body turns to stone. He stills as if the chill of the room has seeped into his blood and frozen him from the inside. It has always been his instinct to fight his way out of conflict and he has never been the type to be good with his words. He’s never needed them before now and he’s trying. Gods, is he trying.

He runs his tongue over his lips and when he speaks again, the words are strained. “I understand.”

“You understandnothing,” I hiss. “Nothing at all. Are you the only one able to kill a Kijova? Are you the supposed chosen one who has to save everyone? I have the whole world on my shoulders, Rowan, and there is no one who can take that away. No one who can even share or begin to understand that.”

His lips part softly in an expression I recognize quickly. I saw it every day in Mavis’s compound when the others saw past their fear to notice the loosely fitting clothes and my wobbly steps. Pity. This deep, embedded sadness that they know they cannot save me from this fate, no matter how desperately they want to.

Because they still think I am too weak to handle it.

Even though the anger in the room has dissipated, I force ice back into my words, fighting my instincts to erase any bit of progress we have made. “Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? What you trained me for?”

A blink, and the pity is gone. I can practically see the walls go up, the barbs of defense lacing his tongue. “I was training you to be able to defend yourself.”

“Really? Is that what all those missions were for? You made me this,” I spit with as much venom as I can muster and beat my fist into my chest. “Congratulations, you have your weapon.”

“I’ve made mistakes,” he pleads, but there’s a bite behind his words now. Even as his voice grows watery and his hands shake, there is something darker lurking beneath. Something that calls to my own darkness. “But all I want now isyou.”

He may think he means those words. Looking at him and knowing him, I believe him when he says he believes that. But he doesn’t. He wants who I was before he broke me. Before he and Mavis and Lucius and this whole world decided to fuck me over.

“You don’t get to judge me for the blood I’ve spilled when you put the knife in my hand.”

His gaze is hard, but I force myself to hold it. Force him to understand.

“I’m going. I won’t expect you to be awaiting me when I return.”

Then a pause at the door.

“Goodbye, Rowan.”

Chapter31

Verosa

Idon’t know where I thought I was going when I left my room, but I am far too angry to turn back. No, it is not anger. It is fear and sorrow and pride. These force my feet to move forward until they melt back into anger and I find myself standing outside a specific door.

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