“Is that why you cared so much for Altair?” Sadal asks, eyes glimmering. “Because he was so devoted to his people? He’s dead, Verity. He’s dead because you abandoned him for me.”
Pain and sorrow lance through my chest, and I know Sadal has noticed. “I know that,” I whisper. “I know it’s my fault. That doesn’t change things between us. I hate you more than ever.”
“Did you love him at all, Verity?” Sadal asks, his voice tight. “You gave him up so easily.”
“What do you know about love?” I snap, finally tearing away from him.
“Love?” Sadal is on me again in an instant, driving me onto the floor with a cry.
The air is knocked out of my lungs as he straddles my waist, holding me to the ground. I writhe beneath him, trying desperately to free myself. His hands squeeze my wrists, painfully tight. I yelp and flinch back but Sadal holds me fast. My body is cold with fear, a gut-twisting sense of inevitability filling me with nausea.
Sadal lowers his lips to my ear and inhales deeply, smelling me. “I know nothing of love,” he purrs. “Thousands and thousands of years of leading the Bloodbane and I have yet to discover its meaning. No matter how many women I take, no matter how many I pleasure, none of them have stirred my heart. None of them are more than entertainment.”
“Get off me,” I pant, turning my head in an attempt to get away from him.
“You could be different,” he says softly. He presses his roman nose to my cheek and breathes me in. “You could be the one to change everything; make me better.”
“There’s no one in this realm or another that could change you, Sadal. You will always be the dark god you are,” I say forcefully, meeting his black gaze.
He curls his lip at me and leans back. I feel more of his weight settle on my hips, but I sigh when he puts distance between our lips. Suddenly, his hands are at my neck. He squeezes. I feel my eyes bulge as my neck throbs and my lungs scream for air. I wheeze, trying to cry out for help, but no sound comes. Desperations floods through me as I feel my lungs tightening. I claw at him but Sadal isn’t fazed my nails raking down his cheek.
I gasp, choking on nothing. My vision is blurry, and I hear an echoing, vague impression to press my thumbs into his eyes. And then I can breathe again. I take a long, desperate breath, rolling over. I cough violently, face pressed to the carpeted floor. Sadal stalks out of the tent and I can see his fury radiating off of him.
Tears spring to my eyes, half spurred by the pain and partly from my fear. I take another ragged breath and touch the bruises forming on my neck tentatively. I wince as even the softest touch makes my neck throb. Stiffly, I crawl to my feet and slip back into the bed where I bury myself in blankets. It smells of Sadal.
I ignore it, closing my eyes and trying not to think of the torture Sadal put me through. I inhale shakily, wishing desperately that I was with Altair. Maybe I don’t love Altair, at least not yet. But I know that if I had stayed and listened to him – if I hadn’t let myself get caught up in Sadal’s wiles – I would have loved him someday. My cheeks are wet with tears, so soaked I don’t bother to wipe them away.
I fall asleep crying, knowing I’ll be awake throughout the night, frightened that Sadal will return. But I dream. I dream of Altair, and my heart aches even in my sleep.
I see Altair, a scruffy beard gracing his cheeks, his hair unkempt and swept into a hasty, small ponytail. He limps through the empty castle towards a large window overlooking Desmarais. I pad towards him, knowing he can’t see me. I want to drink him in, live in this vision of him forever so I never forget what he looks like.
He sighs, staring out the window. I follow his solemn gaze to the city below and inhale sharply. It’s empty, drab, and grey. No lights are lit and no Fae bustle through the streets. On the horizon, I see a mass of white sails disappearing into the setting sun. His people are gone. My gaze softens as I turn back to Altair, wondering what he must be thinking to see his beloved city so empty.
I reach a tentative hand towards him, to brush a stray hair from his cheek. Suddenly, his hand snakes away from his side and snatches my wrist. I gape at him, eyes wide with shock as he stares at me. He looks me up and down and then laughs wildly. He drops my arm, rubbing at his eyes.
“Gods, I’m going mad,” he mutters.
“Altair?” I whisper, heart soaring. This must be a lucid dream, a dream where I control the outcome.
“It speaks,” he says under his breath. “Great.”
“Altair.” My voice cracks. “I’m so sorry. I know this is meaningless; you’re dead. But I need to tell you how sorry I am.”
Altair’s lovely hazel eyes rake over me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fell for Sadal’s trap. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry that you’re losing this war,” I say, the words tumbling from my mouth.
Altair reaches a hand towards me and gently strokes my
