Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
I revisit Merc slumped in that cell in the warrior queen’s dungeon and him washing my hair and making love to me in that luxurious suite …
There’s such a temptation to believe what he said just now, about his feelings being true. But what was it that he said about the Dark King?
The evil gets in you and knows your deepest fears and desires.
Merc is, after all, a demon, and I need to believe the reality of what’s in front of me, not the persuasive words that were just spoken by him. I must face whatever awaits me with my father on my own, and without the blurring of my feelings.
On that note, I focus once more on my reflection in the water. The gloaming has arrived, and so my eyes are barely visible, yet I see them clearly, the pale outer rim and the dark center hole.
That’s as black as my dead soul.
As I rise up from the water, I hear the dripping from my clothing and my body, and feel the cold even more deeply. Staring across the pond, I picture what is not so far away, just a little more north and a little more west than my current position.
The altar. Where the Dark King was supposedly sacrificed.
I thought the compass was sending me to the Sooths. But no, their temple just happens to be between where I am and the ancient seat of the Fulcrum.
That is where I must go.
When I turn to Lavante, his head is up and his alert eyes are on me. I expect him to balk as I walk over. He does not, but perhaps evil is the kind of thing you can become familiar with.
Yes, I know what I must do and where I must go now. And this I must do alone.
No more hiding. Ever.
The stallion’s quiet nicker of welcome, so plaintive and lovely, would have brought tears to my eyes earlier. No more. There will be no tears for me now or in the future.
I take off the saddle, take off the bridle, and dump the tack on the shoreline. “You are a beautiful horse.”
As I pass my palm down his muscular neck, his golden coat gleams in the last rays of the setting sun. I think of Lalah and Emma, and remember the moment he was given to me, a great asset in return for a bad deed done for all the right reasons. I recall riding him through so many trials, surging over grass, over decayed marble, through mist. He is more than beautiful. He is fierce, courageous, loyal, and smart.
“I will miss you,” I say in a low voice.
More than that, I will miss what I knew of the world when he was mine. And I mourn the version of reality I thought I was in.
And then I go still.
Something within me knows what to do, even though I have no idea what is about to happen: I put out both my arms, look down upon the skin revealed as the sleeving rides up, and strip from my eyes all that I was programmed to not see—
There it is.
The shimmer of magic that coats me, hides me, protects me. It’s all over my body, a magic shield put in place, long, long ago.
I look to Lavante.
This horse, this beautiful horse, must survive tonight. Not because I’ll ever see him again and don’t want his death on my conscience, and not because of all that I owe him for his efforts on my behalf. No, it’s because the mercy I show in this moment is the last I will give to anyone and anything. His protection will be the gravestone to mark my humanity.
With a flex of my will, I send the shimmer to him, the magic tugging at my corporeal limbs as if it intends to resist the eviction. I prevail, however, the energy leaving me through the tips of my fingers, and traveling through the gathering darkness in heat waves that warp the night air. As the spell reaches the stallion, he jerks and throws his head, then rears up and paws at the distance between us with a whinny of alarm—
There’s a clap of thunder, and a flare of prismatic light. Then the shimmers fall all over him and coat his every nic and length, as if a rainbow has been broken over his head and back.
The light show fades and he throws his head one last time.
Though I have to deny my emotions, I reach out and stroke his muzzle. “You are the very best horse ever to roam Anathos, and now you must go.”
As he nickers softly and nods as if he understands, I’m struck with a fresh loss, and then he’s gone, his snow-white tail swishing, his hooves beating the ground while he trots off into the trees, never to be seen by demons or humans alike, free to roam, no master to dictate his future …