Panting, I watch him go. Still doubled over, I stumble into my tent and throw myself in front of the stove. Sobs wrack my body as I picture Altair falling over and over and over again. It’s my fault. My fault that we ever reached this point. If I had been stronger, if I had only done what I promised him I would do – this war might not have ever started.
It kills me that the last memory I have of him will be seeing his face when I betrayed him. Even if I never spoke the words to Sadal, even if I never spilled any blood or gave him my body, I betrayed Altair. I joined his enemies, willfully or not. I’ll have to live knowing Altair never knew the truth. I’ll have to live knowing it was my fault he died.
I quiet, sniffling into the red cloak. My eyes adjust and I remember that I’m still wearing it. With a snarl, I tear it off and toss it aside. Wearing nothing but the thin, scratchy dress, I curl in front of the stove. My eyes are heavy and swollen from crying. Calmer now, I close my eyes and remember the moment Altair died.
When I open them again, all I feel is icy rage. I stand and collect the Bloodbane book. I open it, searching the book with a new purpose. I’ll use the Bloodbane magic against them. I’ll never be one of them, and I feel no sorrow at the thought of the death of every single Bloodbane witch. Spells, rituals, curses, and potions. Poison. Pain. Death. Revenge.
Chapter 6
Altair
In the haze, black and red and white streaks of color blur my vision. Pain pounds through my body, searing and unrelenting. I blink as hands wrap around my biceps and tug at my body. The pain flares even more intensely as I feel my useless legs, like deadweights strapped to my torso, drag over corpses and bloody body parts.
The hands take me out from the pile of dead things and over the blood-soaked earth. I stare uncomprehendingly into the dead eyes of a Fae soldier. Her dark hair is stuck to her cheek, now just a carved and fleshy hunk.
I feel myself scream, but I don’t hear the sound. I feel my mouth opening, feel the breath rushing out. I clench my eyes closed as the pain grows so intense that bile rises in my throat. “Shut up,” I hear Thal hiss, breathing hard. “Shut your gods-damned mouth before he comes back.” I blink, but my vision grows dark. Thal heaves once more on my bloodied body before the pain takes me.
When I open my eyes again, I see a dark oak ceiling above me. I’m naked, covered only by a thin sheet; a healer’s sheet, I think sleepily. My vision slowly clears, and I glance down at my body. The healer’s once crisp, white sheets are drenched in blood from where it’s seeped through my bandages and stitches.
I bite down hard on my tongue, determined not to scream in shock at the sight. Pain throbs in my limbs, on my torso, on my back, on my head. Slowly, it builds into an unbearable crescendo. I groan, turning my head to the side and gritting my teeth to endure it.
The door bursts open and Thal rushes in. His face is white, his blonde hair matted and splattered in blood. His clothes are worse though, smears of dried blood cake his once pristine armor. He rushes to my side, eyes wide. “Healers,” he shouts. “The King is awake.”
Healers pour into the room, dressed in long, white robes. They cluster around me, poultices and herbs in hand. I lay still as they call on the bit of magic the earth has given them to heal my body. Warmth floods through me as their spells wean on. The pain fades and I sigh. I look at Thal, worry knitting my brows together.
“What happened?” I ask. My voice is hoarse, and it hurts to speak.
“You went head on with Sadal,” Thal says. “You almost died. I had to pull you from the bodies before you died from blood loss.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. Gratitude swells in my chest as I stare at my cousin. The thought of dying at Sadal’s hand before I save my people makes me sick.
“Don’t thank me.” Thal glances away before flashing me a grin. “I just didn’t want to be King.”
I laugh harshly and then fall into a fit of coughing. “Your self-interest has done it again, Thal.”
We fall into silence as the healers check my bandages. I glance down at my legs, now on display. Thal clears his throat at the sight of my cock and I smirk. The smile fades when I see both my calves encased in plaster. Broken. Both legs. I close my eyes and let my head sag back onto the pillow.
“Damn it,” I murmur.
“They’ll be fully healed within the week,” Thal says encouragingly. “Don’t worry about it, cousin.”
“By the end of the week, it might not matter anymore. We might be dead anyway if I can’t do something about it,” I growl.
The healers fall silent, their hands moving more slowly. I know I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have expressed that kind of hopelessness in front of my own people. Thal shoots me a look as if to say look what you’ve done.
“So, we lost this battle,” I say, ignoring his warning glare.
“This battle,” he says evenly. “Only because Sadal got involved.”
I shrug. He’s right. Before Sadal joined the fray, our soldiers were driving the demons back into the mountains and we decimated the Bloodbanes in the sky. I could bring myself to feel satisfied if I didn’t know that Sadal will beat us again if he chooses to fight. He could crush us in minutes just as
