Page 55 of Of Rime and Ruin (Sirens of Adria #2)

Chapter fifty-two

Aethan

“Begone, dark spirit! In the goddess’s name, I cast you out!” Lucas barks.

My surroundings come together in pieces: the frostcat glaring. The dim light of a fire. A tidy desk. I’m sitting in Lucas’s office.

The sting of magic courses through my body, and I flinch against leather restraints. My hands are bound to the arms of a chair. Dark scales recede from my wrists, evidence of the Beast relinquishing his control over my body.

How the hell did I get here? Only the past few minutes elude my memory this time.

I remember every detail before that—Nahla’s request, our kiss, Orson’s body, and the rage.

Guards touching her. A guard putting his hands on my Sunfish.

I was going to hurt him. My rage burned so hot I wanted to rip the world apart, but then Lucas appeared, and everything went black.

I search the room wildly, looking for the healer. He stands out of my reach, eyes glowing with the light of his spell. In his shadow, with her knees tucked to her chest on the floor, is Nahla.

Nahla?

My stomach somersaults. This isn’t right.

Her panicked gaze pierces me as I drink in the sight of her.

She widens her eyes and shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her beautiful dress is torn. A cord of golden light wraps around her head and slips between her lips; another cord wraps around her wrists—Lucas’s magic, holding her hostage.

I narrow my eyes. He’s gagged her. He’s touching her. She grimaces and twitches, shrinking away from the brush of his spell. What the fuck is the meaning of this?

“Release her!” I bellow.

Rage returns with a vengeance. My veins swell, ice surging to the extremities of my body. The Beast bursts through his cage, ravenous for justice, and our minds fuse, forming one thought only: Nahla isn’t safe.

I thrash against the restraints and roar. I fight Lucas’s spell with mind and body as the magic sears through me—as it caresses her—as if I could absorb all the fear and set her free.

The healer chuckles from the shadows. “Good,” he croons through the tune of his Voice. “You want to protect her? Come out and fight me, Beast.”

A twist of pain, sharp behind my eye. Fuck. I throw my head back. Howling. Panting. Sweat slicks my skin. Nahla screams and snaps her head, clenching her teeth as she faces the ceiling. Ice curdles my blood.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Lucas clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Oh, but she’s being so helpful . Aren’t you, Princess? You like to be helpful.” A golden tendril splits apart to stroke the length of her throat. Reverently. Seductively.

Mine , roars the Beast.

She struggles against the gag and moans. The sound of her struggle cuts straight to my heart. The Beast fills my limbs, lending me strength. With a flex of muscle, I pull out of the chair, cracking it in half as I rise.

“Yes!” Lucas cheers. “That’s it, Your Majesty! We’ll get him out this way! Give me all your anger. All your rage. I will cure you once and for all!”

Before I can take a step, his magic stiffens my body, immobilizing me. I stand rigid and seething, caught in yet another of his snares.

“Ah, ah!” he warns. “Don’t get too close. She may not want you near her, given your history.”

I hesitate, searching her face for confirmation of the healer’s suggestion. Her brow puckers with confusion.

“Have you not told her, Your Majesty?” Lucas circles me. Golden tendrils thread from his fingers like a dark puppeteer, snaring us both. “ Why you agreed to this treatment?”

No.

His magic yanks Nahla closer, dragging her before me. She slams to her hands and knees with a cry of pain. She strains her head to lift it slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she looks me in the eye.

It’s reminiscent of the first time we met: Nahla forced to bow before me as I stood over her like an over-powered asshole. Regret twists in my gut. How far we’ve come since then, only to end up in the same position.

“Agreed?” she mumbles around the thread of magic in her mouth.

“I didn’t agree to this , healer. I agreed to your cure—” More pain sears through my system, and I fight to finish my thought. “Get her out of here.”

“As you wish,” Lucas says. His magic withdraws from Nahla’s body, and she collapses onto the floor, coughing.

Blood speckles the floor. He hooks a hand beneath her arm and hauls her up, her body as limp as reedgrass.

Her knees knock together as she wobbles unsteadily on her feet.

“Go on, now,” he says. “Out you go, Princess.”

As he lets go, she takes a shaky step forward and stumbles. I press against the magic, but I can’t catch her fall. She lands with a thump.

“What have you done to her?” I demand.

“Do you know what it feels like, Your Majesty, to have the one person you love incapacitated?”

Nahla moans on the floor, trying and failing to push herself onto her hands. My muscles burn with power as they grow, every fiber of my being itching for violence.

He hurt her.

With a sharp cry of my Voice, ice explodes from my fingertips. The stream pierces the air as it slices toward Lucas’s face. I narrow my eyes, focusing my aim.

He HURT her. He must pay for her pain.

Lucas smiles.

Suddenly, I lose my grip. The ice splinters into a million pieces, shards flying in all directions. I watch in horror as they slice toward Nahla instead, missing the healer.

Her eyes grow wide. She raises her arms to protect her face, hunching to make herself small before me.

“No!” I scream.

But I can’t cut the spell. I’ve lost control of it.

Panic.

Fear.

Regret.

With a flick of his light, Lucas melts the shards inches from Nahla’s face, turning them into soft powder. Snow dusts her dark hair and melts on her cheeks. She looks up with a gasp.

“Did you think you were safe from him, Princess? You would have lost your life if I hadn’t stepped in,” Lucas bellows, peering down at her with a snarl.

“Don’t you know he’s brutalized his subjects for years, and he’s done nothing ?

That brave hunter, Orson? His death was the king’s fault.

His mother. My sister. Perrin’s gimpy fin. All. His. Fault.”

Nahla touches her cheek gingerly, wiping away the snow. Confusion swirls her expression for a moment before the pieces click together. “Aethan, what does he mean?”

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

I slump against the restraints of Lucas’s magic and let him hold me upright. The Beast screams, washing us in agonizing sorrow as I brace for her anger. But the look in her eyes is closer to disappointment. Like I should have known better.

“Aethan?”

I should have told her myself, about all of it. She didn’t need to find out like this. Tears slide down her face. Would it have been any different if I told her? Would the news not have hit the same way?

“Someone’s been keeping secrets. She knew of the Beast, but not of the monster. A shame. The truth will save us all, goddess willing. Let us bring it into the light.”

I close my eyes, wetness pooling in my eyelids. He’s right. There’s no we —no Beast versus king. It’s all me. Me, the rampant murderer. Me, the heartless king. My two selves merge, and I can no longer tell them apart. I’m all rage, all monster.

I didn’t hurt her. But I almost did.

“Shall we continue? Or would you like to keep the clawbeast inside you?” Lucas glares, holding me in the tight grip of his magic. His mouth quirks in a smile. “Better hurry, before your little sunfish becomes your next victim.”

His words drop like an anchor on my soul, dragging me into the dredges of my torment.

I will not let that happen. Not on my fucking watch. If it’s a choice between Nahla and the Beast, there’s no contest. I would rather spend my life torn in two than live in a world without her in it.

My eyes fling open, finding hers. She stares with open dismay. “For you,” I whisper through the pain. “This is for you.”

She shakes her head, but she does not know what she’s refusing. I will give her safety, a future. Everything she will never have if I let my power continue unchecked.

This is for her. For my kingdom. For the life we will build together.

I look the healer straight in the eye. “Do it.”

Lucas grins. Magic glints off the white of his teeth. His hands clench into fists, wrapping the cords of his magic tight, and he yanks the tether between us.

Pain.

Searing pain.

Tearing me in half.