Calan’s heart stopped. He shook his head. “No. It can’t be.”
“Yes.” Arawn nodded. “We are all cursed, only in different ways.”
He staggered back. “But I never suffered. I never—”
“You never suffered?” Arawn laughed. “So you felt no regret. No guilt. No damn empathy for the agony your brothers and sisters have endured. Is that the lie you are trying to tell me?”
Hadn’t Calan thought the same thing numerous times? Said the same thing to Rhys—that sharing his siblings’ tortures and knowing he couldn’t bear it instead of them was his punishment.
“I didn’t realize.” Calan dragged his fingers through his hair, roughly tugging at the strands. The pain didn’t help. Remorse slashed at him. “What have I done?”
“You have damned the woman you love! That’s what you have done.” Another shove. Calan landed on his ass a third time. He stayed there. Arawn towered over him. “Your fairy mate holds a piece of your soul. Your cursed soul. Once your siblings succumb to the madness—”
“They won’t. They are strong. Honorable. They—”
“Are crumbling under the weight of a curse they were never meant to bear.” Arawn thumped his chest. “I feel them. Their pain. Their suffering. Their anguish. Even the strongest of them are a heartbeat away from losing the fight.” He dropped his balled fist. “Even my beautiful, precious Tegan hovers on the brink. Every sunrise I fear will be her last, but somehow she’s managed to endure.”
Barely, just barely. Calan knew of his sister’s struggles and the imaginary world she’d found comfort in. Telling Arawn how far gone she was would crush him. Calan glanced away before Arawn saw the truth in his eyes.
“But she will crack, and so will Rhys and the others.” Arawn stepped in front of him, then waited until Calan met his gaze. “When they do, the weight of the curse will fall to you, and through you, Harley. The magic senses her. Wants her. And it will claim her unless you spare her its wrath.”
Calan shook his head. He had no words. Didn’t want to believe.
Arawn crouched next to him. Sympathy softened his normally impassive features. “How long do you think you will survive before madness takes over your mind when you must watch your mate die repeatedly?” He waited a moment, then lowered his voice, gentling it. “Not long, I’m guessing, and when you are lost, she will bear it alone.”
“No.” Calan choked on the word.
“Yes, but she won’t be able to escape through oblivion. The fairies can’t. I created the curse to punish them for an eternity. No forgiveness. No redemption. In my eyes, they had deserved none.”
“But Harley hasn’t done anything to warrant it.”
“I know, but I won’t be able to free her. She’ll be beyond my powers, but”—Arawn grasped Calan’s shoulder—“you can save her.”
“How? By letting you rip her away from me?”
Arawn dropped his forehead to Calan’s. For a long moment, Arawn said nothing. When he did, his words came out as a breath of sound, barely audible. “You always have two choices, child. The right one and the wrong one. The way I see it, yours are simple. Either break your half of the mate bond and continue hunting Dar, or keep your mate, enjoy her for the time you have, then allow her to suffer under the curse. Once she bears it, the barrier will stabilize and the humans will be safe.”
Calan pushed to his feet. “I will do neither.” Because both would damn her. She needed him to help her remain honorable. He was her shield against damnation.
“You must give her up, or fate will force the curse upon her. That would destroy you. I love you, child. I can’t allow that to happen.”
“Life isn’t black and white.” He glared at his father, who remained crouched, elbows on his thighs. “There are always more than two choices, and I will find another option.”
“You’re right.” Arawn glanced away. “But you must remember that in a game with endless players, there can only be one winner, and he is the one who has made the right choice first, not allowed shades of gray to muddle his goals.”
Calan frowned. “This is not a game.”
“Yes, it is. It’s the greatest one of all, and we are the pawns in it.” Arawn stood. “But there is strength in numbers, and together we will emerge the victors.”
Calan shook his head. His father wasn’t making sense. “This conversation is over. Neither of your options is acceptable to me. I’m making my own.”
“And that is?”
“I’ll hunt down Dar and return the curse to him before my siblings fall.” Calan straightened his spine, determination settling over him. “I will save my siblings, the world, and my mate.”
Arawn didn’t respond. He merely watched him with a defeated expression stamped on his face.
Calan willed Death to him. The ghostly steed trotted forward. He leapt onto his horse’s back. There was nothing left to discuss. His vow was made. He only prayed the doubt in his heart wouldn’t nullify it.
“Son?”
Calan didn’t stop.
“Return to me when you realize I am right. I will sacrifice and ensure you have the option of ripping yourself from the female. It’s the best way. Better to be alone than know you caused the one you love pain. Trust me, it isn’t worth it.”
Calan stopped his horse. Gaze straight ahead, he declared, “The female’s name is Harley, my mate. You will not rip her away from me. I will take on all of Hell’s creatures in order to keep her, including you.”
“As would I in your position, but it won’t work. One man cannot hold evil at bay forever. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Then, you obviously made the wrong choice. Was yours
