Page 74 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

“The Mist.” Ewan pointed to a map scribbled across two pages. He cocked his head and held the book up for us to see. “The edge of the world, hmm?”

The Mist was drawn in smeared charcoal, but what had been below it was now gone, the bottom quarter of the page torn off.

Ewan turned to Iaso. “Where’s Calypso?”

“Here.” She entered the breakfast room with a groan, scrunching her eyes, a hand raised to block the early morning light.

“Nice of you to join us,” Drakyth deadpanned.

“What’s below the Mist?” Ewan asked.

She dropped her hand and moved to a side table, stocked with extra dishes. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

Ewan lifted the book to her.

She glanced at it as she dropped her tea ball in a mug and filled it with steaming water. “I see a torn page in a book that’s hundreds of years old and very well-used.” She held the mug with both hands, blowing on the steam. “I’m surprised it’s even readable after so long.”

Iaso released a thoughtful hum, tilting her head. “I’m not sure anything is below it.”

“Even if there was, would it matter?” Livvy asked. “Do you think the two weapons are below it?”

Godrick shook his head with a sigh. “I’m not sure what I think…but if I were a sea Fae who created a weapon I didn’t want to be found, I’d hide it behind a deadly wall.”

Ara said, “I could take us below it without passing through it.”

“As could my wyverns, and that would be much safer.”

“There is nothing below it,” Calypso snapped. “It’s the edge of the world. That’s why the Mist is there: to give purpose to the fools who are determined to die. At least, instead of falling into nothingness, their deaths can feed the sea.”

Iaso scowled at her sister but otherwise ignored her, as did the rest of the group.

Livvy asked, “What if we run out of time searching for them? What happens if…”

“If the liminal moon comes and we have no weapon?” Ara finished for her. Livvy nodded, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I’ll drain him. Drain him so dry, he can’t even open his eyes. We’ll chain him in spell-bound iron?—”

“The iron doesn’t work on us,” Iaso interrupted. “We can’t be sure it will on him, either.”

“It kept him out of Ara’s head,” Doran said, lifting his eyes from his empty plate, silverware and mug untouched.

He constantly looked on the verge of being uncomfortable. Even now, with his expression flat and emotionless, his spine stood straight, his jaw tight. His arms moved like he fidgeted under the table.

We hadn’t had the chance to talk yet, but we needed to.

“If it kept him out, perhaps it could work,” Iaso said with a glance at Calypso, who shrugged her shoulders. “But I don’t want to put all of our faith in that. It could block his power from entering another, but still not contain his magic within himself.”

“Can you be drained of power?” Ara asked Iaso.

“Yes, but?—”

I interrupted with, “The last time you tried to drain him, it nearly killed you.”

“When was this?” Iaso asked.

“A few days ago.” Ara waved a dismissive hand, and I snatched it on instinct. She gasped, her eyes flaring in surprise.

There was nothing dismissive about it. I’d carried her to the hill, applied the salve to her thigh, and force-fed her the remaining healing tonic I had. Her heart had slowed and raced in intervals. Her body went limp in my arms, only to thrash moments later.

I held her gaze as I pressed a kiss to the lightning scar at her wrist.

Iaso clicked her tongue. “It is a lot of power—power you’d have to manage. Constantly. With the blood of the Goddess running through his veins, energy will find its way back to him over and over again.”

“I’ll train,” Ara said, then sighed. “As much as I can in ten days, anyway. I’ll practice. I’ll get stronger, dig my magic’s well deeper.”

Iaso nodded, but nervously spun one of her rings around her finger.

“Can I try with you?” Ara asked cautiously.

“Of course,” Iaso said. “We’ll need to go slow, though, and it won’t be pleasant.”

“You can expel it.” Drakyth swallowed down a bite with a swish of coffee. “Theoretically, you could redirect the power entirely without absorbing it at all. You’d just need somewhere to throw it.”

Ara’s face blanched slightly. “The last time I did that, I destroyed half of the Cursed Wood.”

Drakyth’s brows raised. “Impressive.”

“No.” Ara scowled. “No, it wasn’t impressive. Quite the opposite, in fact. I killed hundreds of people and animals.”

“I only meant it was impressive you were able to channel that much energy. If that’s your raw ability…” He moved to pat her hand, but glanced at me and lifted his mug instead. “With training, you’ll be able to handle him.”

“Poison.” Iaso leaned forward on her elbows. “Poison may work to contain him. Similar to what he forced upon you two—a magic blocker. I’ll look into it.”

“If we can’t kill him,” Ara said, “we’ll keep him at death’s door until we figure out how.”

My fingers curled around the wooden armrest, knuckles white. “Failure is not an option. He’ll die, or he’ll rot in a dungeon cell until he can die. Either way, the bastard’s tyranny ends within the next ten days.”

Iaso dropped her hands to her lap. “If he does already have Sacrifice, then we have to be prepared. We have to avoid it at all costs.”

“Unless we can steal it,” Lee said in a low voice. “If we can injure him with it…”

“Maybe that would be enough.” I tapped my fingers on the wood.

“The Goddess said we need Severance, though… For what? To sever his connection to his divine half? Because if that’s the case, then I don’t think Sacrifice could kill either of you,” I said to Iaso and Calypso.

“Why else would she say we need both blades?”

“All right,” Ara sighed, “so, best case scenario, we sever his connection to the Goddess’s blood and kill the Fae. Without Severance, he can still be gravely injured and captured—hopefully.”

I nodded and lifted my cup to her before gulping my coffee down.

That was when I noticed her mug, the one she’d been sipping on for the duration of our meal. It was her first cup of coffee since she’d escaped. Her plate had also been cleaned—the most she’d been able to eat in one sitting—and she didn’t seem to have any stomach pains.

She’d started to fill out, the hollowness beneath her eyes and in her cheeks disappearing. I could almost see the light dusting of freckles returning to her pale skin.

She was healing.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“For Goddess’s sake, he’s just one man,” she said. “One man against us— a group of the most powerful people in the realm, if I don’t say so myself.”

“A family,” I corrected. “A family of the most powerful people.”

“And we’re bound together by something much stronger than blood.”

“Survival instincts,” Calypso shouted, lifting her mug.

“No.” Ara shot her a glare. “Loyalty.”

“And love,” Elora added. “Loyalty and love.”

Calypso snorted, and Edana practically rolled her eyes.

Calypso’s flippant arrogance I understood—well, tolerated. She was Adonis’s mother, the one being drained of power day by day. She had to be involved, but Edana?

Why was she even here? She certainly didn’t seem happy about it. Did she feel obligated? Because she wasn’t. I’d lived this long without her, and we could continue to live separate lives.

Drakyth exhaled a dramatic sigh. “With love comes loyalty, and with loyalty comes protection. Only those who care for you will be tenacious enough to stand at your back in the face of certain death.”

Edana flattened her lips, but Calypso stared at Drakyth’s profile with an indecipherable intensity.

“Do you think a hired sword will ever risk their neck for yours when fate demands a head to roll?” he asked. When neither of them answered, he resumed his meal. “No, it’s loyalty that galvanizes bravery.”

We can actually do this, I said to Guardian.

His reply was immediate. Of course, we can. Did you doubt us?

We had a plan—a rushed but functional plan, one that, if executed correctly, could end this once and for all.

One, prepare the Bloodsworn and wyverns.

Two, find the twin daggers.

Three, unravel exactly what Adonis’s plan entails. We knew when. We vaguely knew how. We just needed to determine where and why.

Four, hone Ara’s skill. She needed to move as quickly as Adonis could think—quicker, even. She needed to outmatch him if we ever wanted to come within killing range of him.

And five, test our blood oath. We needed to flush out every aspect and push the limits—determine how far we could separate without consequences and discover what those consequences were.

What happened if, Goddess forbid, Adonis was successful in his intention to sacrifice me? If I were run through by the cursed dagger, would it hurt her too?

A towering mountain of work boiled down to five tasks—five herculean tasks to complete under ten days, and two entire kingdoms hung in the balance. Ara’s life hung in the balance.

Just five tasks.

Easy enough , I thought, the sarcasm thick, even in my head.

But getting my ass to that island this afternoon?

Not a chance.

We could take a few hours for her to rest. Besides, no amount of coffee could keep my eyes open and body upright that long.

I lied.

Six cups of coffee and a strong brew from Iaso did just fine.

The wind could cut to the bone if given the chance, the seas were rough, leaving Delphia and oddly enough, Drakyth, a bit green, and the island had been reduced to a dusty wasteland of dead grass and dirt, but the sky was clear, the sun shining, and I had enough coffee in my system to put down a small horse.

Oh, and all I had to do was sit here. Ara couldn’t be separated from me for long without fatigue and a migraine setting in, but she was content to work with the others, and they kept her fully occupied.

She spent hours draining nearly every person on the island, then funneling that energy out.

Iaso hadn’t joined us this time, claiming Ara needed to work up to that level of power, so it wouldn’t hurt as much when the time came.

Instead, she went back to the library to continue her research and write Mors for more information.

Other than Iaso, Doran and Drakyth held the most energy for her to tap into, and they went round after round. When Drakyth had to rest, Doran stepped in, and he never tired.

I thought Delphia would’ve been her most difficult opponent, but Ara tracked her with ease as if watching her movements.

The harder Delphia tried, the louder Ara laughed, even as sweat broke out along her hairline and she shucked off her coat.

When Delphia finally materialized, she seemed relaxed, too, a grin on her face.

It was Drakyth’s turn again, though he didn’t seem particularly thrilled this time.

Good. Maybe that meant we’d head back soon.

The sun hung low on the horizon as I reclined at the base of a spindly tree, my arms crossed over my chest and legs stretched out. I’d just closed my eyes when the navy wyvern’s voice entered my mind.

I’m remembering slowly.

My eyes popped open. How are you?

I’m fine. Rested well enough. And you?

Don’t worry about me.

Drakyth walked back a few steps and unsheathed his sword. Ara lifted hers, and they circled in the sparring ring.

“I thought we were here to practice her power,” I called out.

Ara’s only response was a quick smirk and a wink before she moved with lightning speed—literally. Sparks shimmered over her form as she spun quicker than my eye could see, a blur of color and light. She froze with her blade at Drakyth’s throat.

“So you can move like lightning. I thought so.” His abdomen shook with laughter, though his eyes were wide as he nudged her sword away. “I never saw Vaelor do that.”

You are our King. I’ll always worry.

My gaze dropped. So, your memory has been coming back?

Slowly. It hasn’t been anything useful since I don’t know the mortal language—just the things he forced me to do. Stay close by, fly him, fly to you, attack you. His regret seeped down the connection, heavy and raw, before he dampened it. Until today.

I sat straighter, head tilted as if that’d help me hear him better.

He knew her before.

Ara’s laughter floated over the island. She flitted from place to place, moving impossibly fast, as she fought both Drakyth and Edana. The clash of swords rang out, but she was already gone, moving to her next target.

I couldn’t decipher how well he knew her, only that their relationship went beyond her time in the dungeon, beyond even you. I may not know the language, but I do know feelings, and his go further back than that.

Fire erupted beneath me, devouring the dried grass, and Ara’s attention snapped in my direction.

He feels…ownership.

My vision tinted red. Pupils slitted. Scales ripped from my skin, and Guardian slammed into the ground, a wave of dust billowing around him.

Ara sprinted at me, shouting, “What is it?”

She eyed Guardian, but the second she passed him, he stepped between us and the others, cutting them from view. She slowed to a halt, brows furrowed, but I was already on my feet, striding toward her.

When she glanced over her shoulder at Guardian, I knotted my fingers in her hair and brought her attention back to me.

“What?” Her wide eyes flitted between mine. “What is it, Rogue?”

Flickering orange reflected off her sweat-slicked skin, cheeks and lips flushed from exertion, her silver eyes as stunning as the moon. My claimed was exceptionally beautiful, bathed in my firelight.

“Fucking mine. ”

Her lips parted—an irresistible invitation—and I crashed my mouth to hers, determined to devour her whole.