Page 21 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

ROGUE

S creams erupted the moment Guardian landed in the heart of King’s Port. I leapt down with Iaso limp in my arms, her blood soaking through my shirt, and headed for her sister.

The tavern sat on the bottom floor of the inn, and it fell silent the moment we entered.

Conversation died. Eyes turned. Bodies shifted.

Red drops marked my path as I strode through, deaf to Mae’s barrage of questions behind me.

I rounded the bar, climbed the stairway, and drove my boot into Calypso’s door.

It slammed open.

She gasped, seemingly rattled by the man who sat across from her. His glare was locked on Calypso as she gawked at Iaso, mouth slack.

“Ewan,” I said, low and cold.

His expression twisted from fury to confusion as his eyes fell on Iaso. He shot to his feet, knocking the chair back. He cleared Calypso’s table with one furious swipe—books thudding into walls, glass shattering, papers scattering.

He gently slid his hands beneath Iaso’s knees and shoulders, taking her from me as he inspected the metal spikes with disgust, the blood on them dark. “How?”

“Adonis.”

After we managed to lay her face down on the table, Ewan grimaced. Her torso was mangled and shredded. Broken ribs protruded alongside the metal, her vertebrae visible in some areas.

My brows hit my hairline. She wouldn’t survive this—if she were even alive. In my preoccupation to get here, I hadn’t stopped to check if there was still a soul left to be saved. She very well could’ve already joined the Goddess on the other side of the veil.

When I lifted a hand to check her pulse, Ewan snatched my wrist.

He didn’t look away from the weapon as he asked Calypso, “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

Calypso finally snapped from her stupor and closed her mouth. She cleared her throat, sliding a facade of nonchalance over herself before she stood and smoothed her dress. “What is there to do?”

I inhaled once, twice, then ate the distance between us and wrapped a hand around her throat. Her eyes went wide, her icy power attempting to slide beneath my skin, but I matched it with fire of my own and threw her at the table. She hit the edge, coughing as she rubbed her throat.

So, I can still feel annoyance and anger. Interesting.

Guardian’s concern deepened.

Ewan’s eyes churned like angry seas. “You will help her.”

With a sigh and a grimace, she looked down at Iaso. Her head turned every which way as she inspected the damage. “Can you at least give me some space?”

Ewan crossed his arms over his chest and begrudgingly backed away. Calypso’s hands hovered over the weapon, her head cocked to the side before she shrugged and grabbed two of the spikes, one on each side.

Ewan lunged forward, but it was too late. She tore the thing from Iaso’s back, flesh ripping and bones breaking.

Ewan staggered to the table, trembling like a leaf as Calypso stumbled away from us all. The weapon fell to the floor with a loud clang. Silence followed as blood pooled around it.

“There,” she muttered. “It’s done.”

I glanced around the room and strode to the nearest window. Unlatching the glass panes, I pushed them open and glanced down. Dark water flowed through the canal below.

I grabbed the weapon and slung it out.

A distant splash, then it was gone.

“What’s done?” I closed the window and sidestepped the puddle of blood on the floor. “All you’ve done is remove the damned thing. She’s already dead.”

A choked sound left Ewan, but I didn’t turn away from Calypso. She wiped her hands on a rag before lifting her glass of wine and downing its contents. She grabbed the urn to refill her cup and downed it, too.

“She’s not dead,” she said.

I barked a laugh. We both knew there wouldn’t be much left of her after that.

“Her abdomen is ripped to shreds. You just ripped her to shreds.” Plopping down in a chair, I grabbed the urn and drank straight from it. “She’s dead.”

“She’s not,” Ewan whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Clearing his throat, he flitted about the room and gathered supplies: a pitcher of water, several rags, one of Calypso’s blouses.

When he grabbed a jar of healing salve, I shook my head, more out of pity than anything. “Healing salve can’t bring her back.”

He whirled around, wide eyes bloodshot. “She’s. Not. Dead.”

As he meticulously cleaned her body, I waited for the hurt to set in, for the sadness or guilt or…

anything, really. I should’ve felt an overwhelming amount of emotion in this moment—pain, mostly.

I imagined Iaso and I would’ve had matching wounds at the end of it all, after I attempted to dig the heartache out through my back.

I’d dig straight to the bone, revealing my spine, too.

I cocked my head to the side, my brows lifted. I should’ve smothered the Fae flame months ago, because right now, all I felt was vaguely grateful not to be Ewan and a rapidly growing desire to go hunt down my claimed.

I would do just that.

Ewan didn’t even look up as I strode to the door and pulled it open, only to be greeted with people , none of whom I cared to see.

Doran stood at the forefront, Lee, Delphia, and Thana behind him, and two more faces behind them.

How are they here so quickly?

Guardian didn’t answer. Neither did the navy wyvern, but the female stationed near the Southern Sea did.

I assisted, she said.

I ground my teeth and shoved past them. “Not a good time for a family reunion.”

A hand caught my shoulder. Flames climbed Doran’s arm for the second time today.

“ Don’t touch me,” I warned. He released me, but Delphia flinched. To her, I said, “You’re either brave or completely moronic.”

Her face snapped up, mouth working soundlessly before nonsense fell from it. “I-I know. I just... I wanted…”

Thana slid between Delphia and me, her chin high and eyes hard.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I should’ve killed you months ago. Let’s not forget that Ara almost died because of you.” I stepped closer, and she stumbled back into Delphia. “Because of both of you. By all means, give me another reason.”

“Oh, for Goddess’s sake.” Lee strode around them into the room, head on a swivel, until he found Iaso. His feet slowed to a stagger, one dazed step at a time.

Doran followed him in with a blank expression while Delphia and Thana hesitated in the hallway, breathing heavily.

Thana shook her head, watching me like I might pounce at any second as she reached behind her and grabbed Delphia’s hand. She dragged Delphia through the door.

That left two.

One was the human who caught Iaso when she fell—a burly man who had to be at least mid-sixties, eyes brown and beard thick. His ears had been crudely cut to a point, swallowed by scar tissue.

The woman at his side stood almost as tall as he, but something about her face… She looked familiar. I’d seen her in the clearing, but I’d seen her somewhere else, too.

She clearly recognized me. Her hands trembled, her nostrils flared as she stared at the black wyvern wrapped around my throat—the remnants of the obsidian crown.

She looked ready to bolt or lunge, and my magic reacted before my mind could. Armored scales rippled down my neck, spreading over my shoulders and chest. Her eyes widened with horror like she’d just witnessed a nightmare crawl out of my skin.

I took great pleasure in the fear this partially shifted form struck in people, but hers was more so. She scrambled back, her breaths short and choppy as her hand fumbled for the hilt of her sword.

She flinched when she hit the wall, knocking a single word from her lips. “Adrastus.”

My irises flickered, if only to prove I wasn’t him, and she paused, narrowing her eyes—until the brown irises swirled into dark embers.

She straightened, wiped her hands on her trousers, and lifted a palm to reveal flames of her own. While mine always burned angry and erratic, hers were controlled. The flame danced between her fingers until it took shape.

A flaming bird launched into the air, and while she managed to impress the human, I wasn’t amused. My fire consumed it when it flew in my direction, the only evidence of its existence a faint wisp of smoke.

“Rogue,” I said. “ Not Adrastus.”

She fidgeted with her sword’s sheath, then the leather bag thrown over her shoulder. “Why would he name you that?”

“He had high hopes for me,” I said flatly. Her eyes darted to mine, and I released a dry laugh. “None of which I met.”

Would I meet those expectations now that I’d snuffed out the only parts of me that separated us? Perhaps I’d molded myself into the exact beast he hoped I’d be.

Her brows knitted together as she nodded. “Good.” She gestured to the scales. “You look incredibly similar like that.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Oh.” She lifted the flap of her bag, and when she pulled out a dagger with storm’s eye in the hilt, it finally connected: she was the blacksmith from Canyon. She shrugged her shoulder awkwardly and held it out to me. “I found this in the alleyway where…everything happened.”

I pulled my dagger from its sheath, tossed it on a table in Calypso’s room, and took the weapon from her. This storm’s eye was a lighter shade of blue than the one in the dagger Calypso had given me, strapped to my other hip—now, I had both.

I slid it into the scabbard and dipped my chin in thanks as I slid past her, but she grabbed my wrist.

I jerked my arm free. “Do not touch me.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“What do you want?”

She opened and closed her mouth, blinking a few times before releasing a huff. “Nothing that can’t wait, I suppose.”

I narrowed my eyes, gripping the hilt of the weapon she’d just given me, running my thumb over the smooth stone. It heated beneath my touch, but not enough to damage it.

“You didn’t come all this way to return a weapon.”

Before I could force an answer from her, the sun etched into my chest started to tingle. I braced a hand on the wall in anticipation, and it grew searing. The shape burned into my skin again—a nasty side effect.

A hiss escaped my clenched teeth.