Chapter 1 of Book 2

Reality sank in. My mother was alive. Demons were real. There was a rift through the realms… I was dying.

I viciously backhanded Mother’s forearm to get her hand away from my face. “Don’t…”

The wound at my side where the demon had carved me open burned as if someone had placed a large branding iron across it. The threat I shouted into my mother’s face turned into a roar of pain. “Touch!” Another blast of hot flames licked my side, and I cried out, squirming across the sheets. “Me!”

She startled backwards, almost falling off the bedside, her face folding with something between guilt and fear as if I had inflicted all the pains in the world on her. But I couldn’t focus on her. My vision stuttered in and out, every blink a smear of fire and shadow. My breath caught in shallow rasps, the agony at my side pulsing with every heartbeat, like the demon had left part of itself in me, still clawing at me from the inside.

I wasn’t sure what hurt more; the gash that refused to close, or the truth I couldn’t unlearn.

My mother was alive. After everything. After all the years of silence, of graveside prayers and unanswered questions. She was standing there as if no time had passed, as if the world hadn’t twisted in on itself while she was gone.

Demons were real. That was harder to ignore with one’s blood spilling down your ribs.

I’m dying.

The bitter truth curled around my spine, even through the fever of my wound. It wasn’t just pain making my limbs tremble or my skin feel like paper. Something deeper was unravelling. My body? My soul? I didn’t know. But I could feel it.

There was nothing anyone could do about it, and it would be my turn to leave Mother. Yet, somehow it felt like herbetrayal once more. Like being abandoned all over again.

“Why now?” I rasped, not even sure who I was asking; her, or the Spirits, or the shadows pooling in the corners of the room. “Why save me now? Why care?”

She again reached out with her palm towards my forehead. I flinched violently; the pain blooming sharp and bright. “Don’t touch me!” I snapped, the words brittle, too fragile to hold all the things I wanted to say.

I was afraid.

I was furious.

I was heartbroken.

But most of all, I was done being played like a puppet by those who claimed they loved me.

She remained seated at my bedside, but she leaned backwards and pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. The blue eyes still watched me, wanting to say something to remove the barriers between us, but she stayed silent.

Her face was lined with the years she had hidden from me. Grief had settled into the corners of her eyes like marks that no amount of washing could erase. Once a confident parental figure, her features had softened, but not with comfort – with surrender. The kind that comes when a mother buries her child and never stops hearing the echo of that loss. Only to have her daughter by her side again but merely like a ghost who won’t forgive her.

There was a steadiness to her now, something new. Older. Wiser. A quiet knowing that no matter how many times she tried to reach me, trust wasn’t a gift she could take. It had to be earned, bit by bit, over time and through pain.

Her eyes, those same blue eyes I remembered from my childhood, search for a kernel of warmth in mine. Glassy, not from tears, but from regret, hope and exhaustion. The raw ache of a second chance she never expected to get.

Her hands trembled slightly, the way hands do when they’ve spent days and nights without rest, fighting to keep something breathing. Keep me breathing. Her fingers were cracked in places, stained with salves and blood, the skin chapped from healing magic and worry. Maybe she had believed she had worked tirelessly simply to stitch flesh together, not knowing that what I really needed was to mend something far more broken.

She folded her hands close to her chest like they still remembered what it was like to rock me to sleep. She didn’t speak, didn’t plead. Just watched me with patience. The patience of someone who had already lived through the Underworld, fighting with all the demons she came across, and was prepared to walk back through it for me.

Her lips pulled into a thin line to hold back all the words that weren’t good enough to tell me right this minute. Obviously, there was nothing she could do to erase the despicable things she had done to me. To Harvey. To Father.

Her shoulders drooped, surrendering her efforts, for now. But she didn’t break, and I could tell she wasn’t going to flinch from the truth she knew she owed me. She’d tell me everything in time.

She wouldn’t run again.

She was here.

That’s why I had to run. To get away from Black Castle and the poisonous relationships dwelling within it.

I knew Ben was sitting on my right side because his callous hand rested on my thigh, but I refused to acknowledge him, refused to look at him. He was part of my wounds. He was a pain I wanted to rid myself of, knowing it would forever leave a nasty scar to remind me of what he had broken.

I glanced down my body to assess the injury, being too clean, too soft for what I deserved, and it was a cruel contrast to the grit of the battlefield still burning in my blood. Bandages bound my ribs too tight, my shoulder ached with every breath, and my side – Spirits, my stomach felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore. My body throbbed with pain, deep and rhythmic, like my wounds were speaking their own language. One of betrayal and battle, of things broken that might never mend.

My left ring-finger throbbed as if there was a burning band around it, cutting off blood to its fingertip. But there was no wound as far as I could tell, but… I twisted my hand around…another tattoo had been etched into my skin on my wrist. It was intricate, like a rune, glowing faintly in blue. What the heck did this mean now? I was too proud to ask any of the people in this room. Quickly, I twisted my wrist against the mattress to hide it and focused on where I was… or more relevant… where I wanted to be next.

The private infirmary room was warm, fragrant with lavender and clove, and quiet. Too quiet. There wasn’t even the humming of the soul bond in my head. Mother must have broken it during the healing.

My eyes roved the room, sharp despite the pain and the fever behind them, searching for exits. White and grey-speckled marble clad the walls and floors, making it easy to clean heaps of blood if necessary. There was a single sconce on the opposite side of the room with a burning torch, flickering from the draft of the only door into the room. There was also a single window, devoid of curtains, letting in some natural light. I acknowledged that it had a wide enough ledge for someone sure-footed.

Beside the bed was a chair and a table on wheels, the same as the Bensguard Outpost infirmary had, with an extendable tabletop that could be folded up. There was a candleholder with a taper candle on top but nothing else. It had no drawer, so where had they stored my clothes and my weapons? There was no sign of my leather armour and no sign of my blood-slicked boots. Maybe they had to be burned not to spread the demon infection. They had stripped me of everything that made me who I was, and had dressed me in softness, as if that might tame me.

But Harvey had been right; I was no damsel. I was a soldier raised by my father. The Coralys raise no weaklings.

Even wounded, my mind ticked like clockwork to solve my problems – routes, timing, weaponry. A brass candleholder on the table was within reach. A plant in a clay pot on the windowsill that, if broken, its shards could be wielded as sharp weapons. The steel of the bed frame worked as well as iron rods to defend myself with, if I could just pry it loose.

If they thought they could keep me here to rest, to be safe, they were the fools, not me. I hissed in pain as my skin stretched when I twisted myself left and right to form my plan.

“Leave!” Ben urgently commanded Mother from the chair at my other side, his sharp tone sending treacherous shivers along my body. “She’s ripping the healing work right open with her stubbornness.”

Damn him for knowing me so well even without the soul bond!

At first, it looked like Mother was going to disobey her king, but something in his tone made it clear this was not the time to argue, so she scooted off the bed and made her way out of the room. But she defiantly paused in the doorway. “We’ll talk later,” she said, trying to smile at me before she left.

A ravine of sadness tumbled through my chest. She was my mother, and I wanted to hug her, and kill her with the Black Blade at the same time.

Ben squeezed my hand to draw back my attention, but I snatched it free, avoiding eye-contact. There was no chance he’d get a calm conversation out of me. He had known my mother was alive.

Had they conspired together to get me here?

How could I ever know what part of my relationship with Ben was genuine?

I gathered my strength, and readied to scream. “Out!” I pointed a firm and very straight finger towards the door.

When I saw no movement in my peripheral view, I twisted my head and threw daggers at him with my stare. Ben pulled his hand through his dishevelled, onyx hair, and frowned at me. Not at me, but at what he knew he had done to me. Worry darkened his ruby eyes with the uncertainty of whether he would ever be forgiven.

“Yes!” I screamed, riding out the new wave of pain. “All betrayers out!”

His eyes were actually glazed as he shut them. Whatever emotion was rushing through him, it was clearly tormenting. “Love, please.”

I noticed that he had changed out of the Bensguard combat leathers, which I last saw him in, smelling of sweat, full of dried demon goo and dirt and with holes from the demon’s blade. But he was far from fresh.

I had to lower my voice to a whisper not to be writhing in the excruciating pain surging through me. “Never…speak…to…me…again.”

Ben gripped a fistful of his hair and cocked his head upwards, as if begging the Spirits for mercy. “I can’t lose–”

“Out!” The last bark had me grit my teeth and twist between the sheets, fingers digging into the blanket, eyes close to tears.

His hand clenched the pommel of his sword as if it could hold up a broken king, hesitating in his decision before he lifted off the chair and stalked out of the room.

I was alone, and no longer bound by stubbornness to hold me together, my thoughts and feelings were turning like a maelstrom inside me.

My mother is alive.

Ben had held that a secret from me.

Harvey had kept it a secret from me.

Had Zayd known?

Who in this world could I trust?

The list of names of those I could trust and allow myself to love was thinning. What would I want from my life now when I knew the truth of how the white-wings refused to aid the black-wings in their fight against the demons? Why were the demons walking this realm? Surely, the Underworld was big enough for the Demon King to rule with plenty to do.

Where would I go? I couldn’t stay here. I snorted to myself. Perhaps my best choice was to wed Duke Hartmore and live out my days in luxury at his palace. I expected him to be a bastard, so at least he couldn’t betray me. Yes. Maybe that’s how the Spirits intended it to be. Maybe the Spirits were so angry with me for trying to avoid their plan to marry the duke that they sent demons after me. I snorted again to myself.

What a cruel and twisted fate that would be.

Nonetheless, maybe it was my best option now when every other part of my life was destroyed.

I’d ask for Ben to make the arrangements when the next black-wing poked his head inside the room. It would actually be interesting to see who Ben would send, believing I’d respect and listen to their reasoning rather than send them scurrying out of the room, too.

My head became heavy on the pillow, and I tried to rest, but the sting to my side was throbbing like a second pulse. I lowered the blanket and pulled up the white infirmary gown, finding a nest of bandages. With gentle fingers, I separated the bandage to peer at the wound beneath.

Spirits! There was blue and greenish slime slowly spilling out from my insides. What the heck was that? Harvey had said I was infected by the demon who had sliced me open. I should have listened to Ben when he’d tried to inform me about demons. Although I wasn’t sure there had been anything I could have done to avoid the assault and now I had no clue what this meant. Would I turn into a demon, too, and be dragged to the Underworld? I scoffed to myself.

Maybe that’s the best place for me to live in to get some peace.

I rearranged the bandage back into place and pulled the blanket up to my chest before looking around the room. If I could make it to the window, perhaps there was an escape route out of here. I could make it to the apartment Zoe and I rented outside the city, where I still had some of my belongings and money. It was a good plan, until I realised that any slight movement made my eyes blacken with pain, my body ready to surrender me into unconsciousness.

Spirits, how long would it take me to recover from this? I couldn’t stay here all summer with nothing to look at other than white marble.

It felt like I had been abandoned forever when Commander Daffron entered the room with a tray of food. He rolled the side-table to my bedside and opened up the extendable tabletop across my lap. Then, he put the food tray down, smelling of fish, thyme and garlic.

Well played, Ben. Yes, I wouldn’t shout at the commander. I actually respected him. Commander Daffron wouldn’t engage in small-talk, as I doubted he cared what became of me. He looked comfortable out of the Benstuard uniform, wearing half of the Black Castle commander gear with tough, black leather and iron armour over his shoulders, his forearms and his shins, featuring the Blackbone emblem with the double B in a circle. He had groomed his black hair to curve around his ears and the top of his neck, the way it was the first time I had seen him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and tried to stretch for the water glass. “Why are you here? Won’t Captain La Roy realise you escaped the dungeon?”

He put the glass closer to me, so that it was within my reach. “Camp Leader Tomason is here.” That was his only explanation, and I guessed the black-wings were bound to her again. “Will you need anything else?” His brown eyes pleaded to be dismissed.

“Have the king ready a carriage for me, please,” I whispered.

“A carriage?” His question sounded like a sigh, exhausted that I’d cause more trouble – and I bloody aimed to. “And where will I tell the driver he is taking you to?”

I had to breathe a few times to settle the rising agony before I could answer. “To Duke Hartmore’s Manor.”

Commander Daffron’s wide brows lowered deep, creating two lines between them. “To my brother?”

I didn’t avert from his disapproving stares. “There is nothing left for me to fight for, Daffron. I might as well make good on my oath.”

His expression didn’t change as he watched me in silence. He nodded once as a bow. “I shall pass on the message when the king is strong enough to hear it.”

Fear blossomed in my chest before I realised I shouldn’t care. “Has the king been hurt?” Did the demons get him? I had been too shocked at seeing my mother to notice anything else.

Daffron stared at me in silence again, with the two lines still between his brows. “The most I’ve ever seen him.”

“I didn’t realise. Where did they get him?”

The commander jabbed a finger at his heart. “Here. Your near-death tore his heart into pieces.”

My anger seethed, all fear vanished, and I clenched my teeth together until it hurt. He had let me believe the demon had harmed Ben, but he meant the heartache Ben deserved.

Arsehole!

“Well, that’s too bad because I have no skill at building puzzles. Tell him immediately, and for Spirits’ sake, get me some clothes.”

“No. I’ll do what is best for my king.”

Of course he would. He was not loyal to me. Nor to his brother, it seemed.

“Get out!” I hissed, as it didn’t feel right to shout at the commander when he never raised his voice to anyone.

I clutched at my side, my hand coming out damp from the demon substance that had seeped through the bandages.

I didn’t have to tell Daffron twice to get out. He didn’t want to be in here in the first place. When he left, I rolled out of bed, but when I supported my legs on the floor, they didn’t carry me. Pain crippled the muscles around my abdomen, folding me to sprawl flat on the icy marble floor.

Dammit!

The wound was stinging worse than ever. I needed to get to the window, hope I was on the ground floor, and get out of here. Maybe I could negotiate with Duke Hartmore to raise an army and bring it north to fight the demons in exchange for marrying him sooner.

My eyes failed me, my sight swaying over the floor immediately in front of me, unable to focus on anything further away with the blur and yellow splodges in the way. How would I get off the floor when my side hurt like someone had gutted out all my intestines – like Ben had pushed his arm through me to rip out my heart? I felt like a soulless, empty creature… Like a demon. The world surrounding me was swimming again.

I didn’t know how long I had lain on the floor when someone turned me around to lie on my back. Two hands tucked under my back and knees, lifting me up in the air to put me back into bed.

“The demons will pay for this,” Ben growled between his teeth.

I could see a dark silhouette of his shape in my blurred sight. “The demons didn’t hurt me as much as you did,” I whispered, exhausted by my escape-attempt that had brought me no further than the floor beneath the bed. “My side will heal, but my heart won’t from your betrayal.”

I heard his sigh. “Please, Angelica. I know I’m a bastard for the truths I keep. None of them are because I want to hurt you.”

“You told me my mother was dead!”

“I never said that.”

I thought about what he had said about it but couldn’t recall many conversations regarding her. There was the peanut butter cake, which I now knew from where he had sourced. Had Mother baked them for me every time he had asked her? “What about the tenth challenge when I told you Harvey had sunk her bones in the lake?”

Ben folded the blanket over me. “That one was a close call, I’d say, but I specifically answered that ‘what Captain Coraly says he has done would have been a long time ago’.”

I gripped the blanket and tugged it higher up, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. “That still counts as a lie.”

He grunted darkly. “Perhaps. But if I had told you that your mother is my general, you’d have never given me a chance.”

“She’s your fucking general? The one you gifted healing magic to?”

“Yes.”

Fucking great!

More secrets, more betrayals, more pain, thieving any spark of hope of happiness and shoving it far into the shadows. The most painful part was that I had always felt as if I lived in the shadows of what my father had already decided my life should be, but when I was with Ben, it felt like he brought me out to the light. I snorted. Clearly only to throw me into the depths of the Underworld; somewhere deeper and darker and colder.

“So, you two are close?”

“I know her well, yes. I gifted her the healing power when she came back after the Battle of Bensguard, so she could heal her broken heart from losing her children. If it makes you any happier, she almost drove a sword into my side when I told her about my affection for you two years ago, and almost again a few days ago when I brought you here in the state you were in.”

“You’re a liar. You barely knew me two years ago.”

He grunted a sound in disagreement. “I knew you’d destroy me the moment I saw you. That there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, and if you had to die, I’d go down with you. Because, and by all Spirits this is the truth, I won’t choose to save this world when it goes up in flames and turns to ashes, if you aren’t in it.”

I didn’t want to hear any more of what he had to say. It didn’t matter. I was panting, tossing my head around on the pillow and shivering harder, not sure if it was the demon infection that had taken hold or if the dying fire in the hearth wasn’t strong enough to heat the room.

Ben folded another blanket over me as my teeth chattered before he sat down on the chair by my bedside. “Commander Daffron informed me of your wish to go to the Hartmore Manor. I’ll of course make the arrangements, if that is what you want. But some food for thought. If you went on the Spirits’ Trek, you might receive magic that could break the oath to him, and you won’t have to marry him.”

I shifted, pain lancing up my side as the movement tugged at half-healed flesh. “Funny, isn’t it?” I said, my voice low and ragged. “How all roads seem to lead back to you. I suppose you’ve realised the irony of my oath to him already. The only reason I’m in this mess in the first place is because you stole a crate of black iron; hence, Harvey sent me on the raid mission, which was where Duke Hartmore captured me. The moment you made that choice, my fate was sealed. The circle of life can be a bitch.”

Ben’s mouth tightened, just a flicker, but I saw it. I wanted him to feel it, the sting of it, because he was the start of this cursed spiral, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t deny it. Just sat there, jaw working like he was chewing on all the things he couldn’t say aloud. The room was silent yet screaming with the ache of choices we couldn’t undo. Eventually he said, “Yes, it was a hefty price for my sin. I surely hadn’t expected the Spirits would consider a crate of black iron to fight the demons to have the same value as the love I feel for you. I never meant for you to pay for part of the consequences.”

He looked down at his hands, fingers laced tightly. Guilt clung to him like soot. It always did, even when he tried to mask it behind cleverness and concern. And right now, all his noble suggestions and warm blankets meant little when the truth sat between us like a loaded crossbow.

I turned my face away, too tired to keep holding his guilt for him. What he had suggested, though, wasn’t entirely a bad plan. Although, even if I succeeded in getting a magic that could remove the oath, I still didn’t know where I’d go after I was free of the duke. Possessing magic made it obligatory for me to serve in the army for King Emille, unless he forced me to join his inner circle. I didn’t want to go back to the Bensguard Outpost. Harvey had lied to me, too.

I could stay in the Black Wing Territory and find myself a new life. I had never been south to the Banaly province. The warrior in me was angry at my thoughts, though, cursing me for giving up my life’s work. I was still someone who wanted to be a protector of the people – of those who couldn’t protect themselves. I sighed, knowing I needed Ben’s help on some level to defeat the demons and make the world a safe place again.

“Was that your plan? To win the challenges and hike the Spirits’ Trek to gain magic that can defeat the demons?”

“Yes. I hope someone will receive earth bending magic strong enough to close the rift and stop the demons from entering our realm.”

I felt baffled. He answered the question honestly.

The names and magic abilities of the cadets I knew at Bensguard ran through my mind. “There aren’t any earth benders at the outpost.”

“I’m aware. I searched. But that wasn’t the reason I stayed at Bensguard. I could have had any black-wing spy report that back to me. I stayed because I couldn’t tear myself away from your side. The thought of you being ripped apart by the other cadets drove me insane. There is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep you.”

I tried my damned hardest to look Ben in the eye, but it took a while as they seemed to focus in and out to the wrong distance. “Ben. Did Zayd also know that my mother was alive?”

His jaw clenched tight, and I had never seen his frown this deep before. “He knew about the demons, but I don’t believe Harvey had told him about your mother being alive.”

I didn’t believe so, either. Zayd would never have kept that from me.

He’d protect me from this situation as well, if I asked him.

“Please, forgive me, Angelica.”

“Kings don’t ask for permission, they take what they want and ask for forgiveness later. That’s what you said. I guess that comes with the risk that shit happens sometimes and they aren’t forgiven. Will you take me to Zayd, or will I have to walk?”

“Damn it, Angelica! Don’t throw yourself into his arms every time we have a fight.”

I snorted. “Fight? I’m not putting my fists up. I’m walking away. Or crawling, depending on your mercy.”

“You were infected by the demon, so at least let your mother finish healing you before you go back to Bensguard.”

“Should you even be near me if I have been infected? What if I infect you, or anyone else?”

“It doesn’t work like that. A person infected in the world of the living can’t spread it to anyone else, unless they die and crawl back up here through the open rift from the Underworld as a pure demon.”

“Ow. So, I’ll turn into a demon and die. Sounds wonderful, like a fucking Monday.”

“We still don’t know what effect the poison will have on you.”

“What effect has it had on others?”

“It has varied. Some die within the first five hours of being infected, others can keep control of themselves for longer, and you would hardly tell they had been infected.”

My heart pounded hard against my ribs. That raised the question. “How long was it since I was infected?”

“I got you to your mother on time, and she has kept you stable. You have shown no signs of turning into a demon.”

“Don’t be so fucking diplomatic. Answer my questions. How long, Ben?”

He nervously leaned back in the chair. “Four days. Eight hours. Twenty minutes, and…” He looked at his watch. “Forty-three seconds.”

I should’ve been dead. Spirits knew I felt like it. It must have something to do with my magic. Was I pulling life from others?

My breath hiccuped in through my nose. “So, where were we on the walking or crawling home, business?”

Ben shifted again, the leather of the infirmary chair creaking beneath him as if even the furniture was uncomfortable in his presence. He looked rough around the edges, though still irritatingly handsome in a windswept kind of way. “What will it take for me to stop you from going and staying here at Black Castle?”

My voice came out brittle, held together with dry sarcasm and defiance. “Nothing short of an army.”

And there it was – that smug, little quirk at the corner of his mouth, a ghost of the man who used to talk me into impossible schemes with nothing but charm and a grin. He crossed his forearms over the mattress and leaned over, looking smug. “That can be arranged. I so happen to have one.”

“Don’t be stupid. Keep them in the North. I want to go home.”

He threw out his arms in dramatic exasperation, the rich black of his leather catching the light. “This is your home. It’s your castle.”

He doubted I’d be convinced by that argument. I could tell. His eyes were the giveaway. They always had been. Sharp, ruby, flecked with guilt and sleeplessness, trying to be a man that was enough for his people – for me – but never feeling he reached up to his own goals. Eyes that had seen too much, hands done too much, and still he didn’t stop trying to fix the wrong in the world. He fought fearlessly, loved passionately, killed mercilessly, and I was certain he’d die with honour – or recklessly, depending on his temper.

I gave him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “I don’t want it. It’s full of vermin.”

He didn’t even blink at the venom. Ben had built his character to hold against a storm, dodging blades and barbs; mine included. “Nesso isn’t that bad.” There was that damned smile again, forming on his lips, but I didn’t allow it to grow.

“I wasn’t talking about him. Where is my spy, by the way?”

The air shifted. Tense once more, and just like that, the game exchanged for another. The warmth slipped from his eyes, and the calculating king returned. “I don’t know. He isn’t my responsibility anymore.”

“Fine. Can I ask one favour of you for old time’s sake?”

“For old time’s sake?” he muttered to himself, his spine curving as if someone had scraped their nails over a blackboard, clearly not having liked my choice of words. He pulled down his black shirt to verify that the black tattoos were still on his shoulder and I couldn’t stab him with a black blade. “What do you need?”

“Clothes! With reinforced leather over the knees to make it more comfortable when crawling back to Bensguard!”

I was already scanning the room again, already plotting, because I wasn’t ready to die in this cursed castle… and I sure as hell wasn’t going to live in it.

He scoffed. “When you said ‘old time’s sake’, I thought you wanted to dance with black blades. I’d prefer you stabbed me with a black blade, though, rather than hand you over to Camp Leader Watson.”

I glanced at the tattoo barely visible under his shirt. “Unfortunately, that isn’t an option, now is it?”

“No. Seems the options I have are to hand you over to either Camp Leader Watson or Duke Hartmore.”

My next words caught like barbed wire in my throat, sharp and tearing, having scraped against my ribs all the way from my gut as I tried to force them free, but I had to say them – had to. If I didn’t, they’d rot inside me, festering alongside every betrayal, every unspoken truth. He needed to hear them and understand I meant them. He had to surrender and retreat from this one battle.

“Maybe we were never meant to be,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper, but heavy enough to shatter something between us. My eyes locked on his, searching for a crumb of acceptance. Feel it! I wanted to scream. Feel what you’ve done.

The silence that followed felt endless, cold and breathless.

But having read his father’s letter. The one I’d read with trembling fingers and hollow disbelief. The one that stated, in black ink and royal seal, that Ben had a soulmate – and it wasn’t me. After that, how could I believe we were meant to be together?

His eyes darkened. Not with sadness. With defiance.

“Maybe we are,” he said, leaning closer, voice rough, burning with something akin to an eternal flame of love. “If you had just fought a little harder for us.”

The words hit like a slap. My heart stuttered.

Fought harder?

My spine straightened, every muscle locking into place like a soldier bracing for impact. Fury surged up my throat like bile.

“How dare you,” I whispered, the words trembling with the force I barely contained. “How dare you say that to me, after everything?”

After the times I had defended him.

After the half-truths.

After keeping secrets while I bled for him.

My fists clenched the edge of the sheet, the pain in my side a dull roar beneath the fire in my chest.

“You kept me in the dark like a captive; like a dog on a fucking lead, stringing me along,” I said, voice cracking, “and now you’ve the audacity to say I didn’t fight hard enough?”

He opened his mouth, maybe to defend himself, maybe to twist the knife a little deeper. I didn’t let him.

“Get out!” I screamed, the words raw and jagged, echoing through the stone walls like a battle cry.

Ben flinched.

But for once, he obeyed. He stood up from the chair. “I guess what the Spirits gift, they can take away.” Then he left the room without any pride in his stride.

Could it be that he gave up, realising what he had done? He retreated. I won.

Although a victory had never felt so much like a loss. I’d lost everything. I had lost him.