Page 19 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

“No.”

“No, what?” Elyn asks, eyes bugged.

We follow Nimith, with me moving faster down the staircase than I did coming up. Soon, we reach a long corridor with a mural of a sky alive with bolts and bright balls of yellow light. The creation of Linione.

“No, I’m not talking to Jadon,” I say.

Nimith soon reaches a closed door with an ornate, moth-shaped knocker. “You may refresh in your quarters.” She opens the door, and the scents of lavender and fresh water greet me.

Even though Uncle Agon just told me that I couldn’t stay here, I’ve now entered my bedroom in the Abbey of Mount Devour—and it’s just as beautiful as I remember, with a luxurious bed draped in soft silks.

A deep tub filled with hot water and oils scents the room and calms my nerves.

From the wide windows, Vallendor looks so peaceful.

The peaks of Baraminz Spires in the east catch the fading light of dusk, while down south, the cool waters of the Cerulean Sea look iceberg blue.

An illusion: my realm is a fucked-up death-scape crawling with otherworldly, fatal diseases, and merciless thugs.

“Jadon is no true threat to you right now,” Elyn says, stalking over to the window. “He’s imprisoned in the depths of the abbey, guarded by the Raqiel.”

I side-eye her. “Didn’t you just say that he is far more dangerous than we thought? And yet you want the one person who can stop him to go down there and talk to him?”

I leave the window for the bathroom and peel out of my armor.

My mind races, seeing the ruin of my body in the bathroom mirror.

From my shoulder blades down to my ankles, I’m bruised, purples and blacks and blues, most of me covered with crusted blood.

I look like I fell deep into a coal mine and then was chopped up by madmen wielding rusty picks.

No picks this time—just mean-ass otherworldly hanging out at the Sea of Devour.

Elyn paces my room with her arms folded. “We need to learn more about Danar Rrivae’s plans, Kai. How he’s creating his creatures. Where he’ll strike next. What Syrus Wake’s role is in all of—” She finally takes a moment and actually looks at me. “Shit, Kai.”

My eyes burn with tears. “You played a part in all of this, you know.”

She grunts, tromps into the bathroom, and grabs a vial from the sink counter.

“This stuff works wonders.” She uncorks it, and the room fills with the scents of peppermint and eucalyptus.

She pours a generous amount into the hot water and says, “I know you’re angry, but we have to figure out what to do about Jadon. ”

I’ve tried not to think about Jadon. Because when I do think about Jadon, most of the time, I think about him being such a fucking liar.

Wait, you’re not Olivia’s brother? Wait, you’re not a blacksmith by trade?

Wait, your surname isn’t Ealdrehrt? Wait, you’re a prince, the eldest son of Syrus Wake?

Wait, you’re Miasma and have been slowly killing the people of my realm to help— Wait, Danar Rrivae is actually your father ?

“Jadon lied to me our entire time together,” I say and then point at her. “And you knew that— you were in on it.”

She says nothing. Just gazes at me with those cool, gold eyes.

“He told me that he loved me, Elyn,” I say. “How can you lie to someone you claim to—?” I stare at the foam building across the bathwater’s surface, then shake my head. “No. I’m misremembering.” I squint at her. “He never told me that he loved me. He told me, ‘Kai, I choose you.’ ”

I’d assumed “love” was a part of that declaration. Now, with some distance and air that smells like mint and eucalyptus, my mind can make that distinction.

“Being chosen doesn’t equate to being loved,” Elyn says, scooping up my discarded armor. She carries it out to the bedroom.

I hear the front door opening. Then I hear voices and then the door closing.

Elyn returns to the bathroom and says, “Nimith will have your set cleaned.” She holds up a pair of black breeches and a white tunic. “Fine?”

“Fine. Thank you.” I slip into the bath and slide down until my chin touches the water. My skin doesn’t know what to do—explode or sing, catch fire or embrace the warmth. My mind doesn’t care because my thoughts revolve around Jadon.

Like… The Celebration of Renewal in the Temple of Celestial’s courtyard.

It’s tradition for me to bed the next king of Gasho—Prince Idus now—just as I’d “bedded” his father the king and his father the king and on and on until the very first Celebration of Renewal…

I’d chosen kings in the manner that the people there had requested—which meant that I didn’t have to love every man who’d climbed into my ceremonial bed.

All it meant was, “This is the man who will tell everybody else what to do.” That was it.

I dunk my head beneath the hot water and think about Jadon’s “I choose you…” His own Celebration of Renewal. He’d bedded me and liked what he’d experienced, and he’d given me a thumbs-up. No special bed and no fancy gifts. He’d fought alongside me and became a temporary companion.

Tears fall from my eyes as I accept this, and though my face is submerged, my tears are heavier than the bathwater.

“Here.”

I resurface, relieved that Elyn can’t distinguish the teardrops running down my face from beads of scented bathwater.

She’s handing me shampoo that smells of cocoa beans.

I rub the hair soap into my scalp, turning my hair—and my memories of Jadon—into a thick lather.

I was such a fool, a fool who rushed in, and I told him, “Be the nightstar,” because he’d expressed incredible sadness about his father not loving him.

His father, Syrus Wake, was not just any old dad who expected his boy to take over the family business, marry a woman with childbearing hips, and have elevenscore babies.

No, Jadon had two daddies—including Danar Rrivae—and each man represented a flavor of evil.

And they’d carried him across the realm on the worst family road trip ever, making him poison enough of Vallendor for the people to move from hope to fear as they praised Wake’s name.

Using a loofah, I scrub away the grit and dried blood, scrubbing harder as I remember that Jadon was supposed to weaken the Grand Defender and had been shocked to discover that I was the Grand Defender.

“And like an idiot, I told him who I was right after your mother told me who I was,” I say to Elyn, my nostrils flared. “He used me as his weapon. As your weapon, but then I snapped out of it.”

“Almost dying can bring about the best clarity,” Elyn says. “You saw the truth.”

Yeah, but I’d already fallen in love with him.

“So, no,” I say to Elyn, catching the towel she tosses for me to dry off. “Jadon Thousand Surnames is a liar and a master manipulator. I’m not talking to him. He can’t be trusted. And since you chose him to chase me , you can’t be trusted, either.” I point to the door.

She groans and marches to the bathroom’s threshold.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Wait—”

I slam the door on her even though she helped me bathe, even though she had been my best friend up until…

Up until I made my own foolish choices.

…

Agon the Kindness murmurs under his breath and shuffles down to the first bookshelf that I knocked over. There, he directs a Raqiel guard to erect it again. He shuffles back to Elyn and me and asks, “Well?”

“The bath was lovely, Uncle,” I say. “And I appreciate you letting me see my room again, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not talking to him.” I go over to the aerie’s single window.

In the north, the realm hides beneath a cloud of red dust caused by a god-made sandstorm.

Shit. I’ve been gone too long, and Zephar is punishing the province around him.

He’s thrown tantrums like this before—when we were first imprisoned on Vallendor, he sand-stormed throughout Doom Desert for seven dawns.

Elyn shakes her head and leans out the window. “He’s such an asshole.”

“Which ‘he’ are you talking about?” I ask, smirking. I don’t wait for her answer and turn to face my uncle. “The Adjudicator can handle it, and she can find Danar Rrivae and give her big speech about truth and justice, and then she can kill him on the spot.”

I smirk and lean beside Elyn against the window ledge. “I’ll lend you the sword you lost to me.”

“Elyn can’t destroy the traitor alone,” Agon says. “Neither can you, Kaivara. Danar Rrivae can only be destroyed using the strength of the High Orders working together.” He nods to Elyn. “You represent the Eserime, Yeaden, and Onama.”

He nods to me. “Kaivara, you bring your heritages of all the five High Orders. Together, you are the collective. Together, you represent the Aetherium.”

I hold up my hand. “One of my titles is ‘Blood of All.’ If that’s true, why, then, do I need Elyn’s help with this?”

Agon chuckles. “Because you aren’t in good standing with the Council. Just as you can’t trust Jadon Rrivae, the Council can’t trust you, either. Further…”

He points to Elyn. “She is the Adjudicator of Vallendor Realm, and only she can dispense judgment here. She’s not a warrior—there is no Mera in her bloodline.

That is your strength, who you are, Kai.

Together, you two are one, and that brings us all hope for victory—for Vallendor, for the Aetherium. ”

He says nothing else and just looks at me.

Eyebrows raised, I ask, “Are you holding for applause? Am I supposed to now rush out onto the field, clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose, win this for the Aetherium?”

Agon the Kindness blinks at me. “Are you done?”

I break into a smile. “Almost. Because now I see what this is. Keep the Mera girl chained up like a hound until you need her.”

My uncle snaps his sleeves. “If you are to be completely restored, Kai, and also save Jadon—”

“Save Jadon?” I ask. “That’s possible?”

Elyn snickers. “This is why you need to shut up sometimes.”

“Ssh,” I say, holding up my hand. “How is that possible, Uncle?”

And why do I suddenly care?