Promise of Dusk (Endings #1)

Chapter 27

When I make it to the middle-class district, the sun has fallen far behind the walls surrounding Raith, casting the city into shadow. My pace is quick as I move through the crowded king’s road and come upon the theater, the stage uplifted so the majority can see over the crowd. I shoulder my way through the swarm of bodies, the heat still unbearable even in the late afternoon.

On stage, the play is running, the actors shouting their lines across the space. I gather it is the story of the Pretty King’s ascension to the throne of Suri. The prior king is draped weakly across his deathbed giving his monologue.

“Son of no blood. I lie in my deathbed, no heir to my name nor seat. I have not one person I trust to carry on my legacy, but you. From the moment you stepped foot on Surin soil, I knew you to be a patriot. I knew you to be the embodiment of the hopes and dreams of my people. Finish what I have started. Rid us of the scourge of the Dragon King.”

A painted wooden dragon of flaming cobalt carried by two stagehands bolts across the stage, their human roars echoing in the silence after the king’s speech. It runs off the other side of the stage, disappearing behind curtains.

“With this mission I bestow you, and the power to do so.”

The actor playing the Pretty King sits at the king’s bedside, the rouge on his cheeks bright even from here. He’s a tanned, sharp-jawed male, his hair painted a dark brown. A crown of gold and emerald already sits at his brow, a green and black cloak drapes around his broad shoulders. Surin colors, with the white fox sigil emblazoned at his breast. He sits there in regal solemnity, accepting his crown earned from no blood but from sheer fondness from the heir-less once-king.

The actor, beautiful in his own right, continues on in newly crowned splendor. His voice, rich and beautiful, sings about the beginning of the king’s reign. His passion for the people and hunger for the end of the Dragon King. The actor has such heart, such ferocity underlining every movement and word, that I actually believe it for a moment.

It truly is something special. I wonder what he could make me feel if he had a subject he actually believed in to perform.

The Crows line the crowd, watching intently for any slight, any lewd joke, any hint of impropriety attached to the Pretty King’s name.

In the beginning, there was much dissent. Many claimed he obtained his crown through deceit, that he was a snake in the grass sent from the Dragon King himself. Shortly after his coronation, the Crows flooded cities and countryside. Those dissenters found themselves strung up along the walls, and any art condemning the Pretty King’s reign was replaced with odes to his glory .

Keeping my head low, I duck down an alleyway, fleeing the crowd. I take a side-street to the back end of the inn, hoping to sneak back in. I almost sob in relief when I reach the back door.

A hand from behind slams against the door as I go to open it. I know his hands immediately—their every vein and callous. Know them from when they’ve run over my body, memorizing me, holding me. The sight of them freezes the air in my lungs.

I’ve never heard Fionn’s voice tremble with restraint before, but it does now as he says, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

I turn slowly, my shoulder brushing his heaving chest. To say his eyes are burning is an understatement.

“I’m sorry. I needed to get out. I just needed… some air.” My voice sounds pathetic even to me. It sounds like carelessness. It sounds like I’m a self-centered fool.

“Did you try opening the window?” His voice is caustic grit.

My throat is held in the vice grip of his anger as his body keeps me pinned to the door.

I shake my head, unable to meet the venom in his eyes anymore. The words choke me as I force them out. “I just… I was getting so upset. I don’t like being left alone, in that room. I’m sorry for worrying you. But I kept my hood up the entire time. You had to know that the risk was minimal.” I try to reason with him. I reach to put my hand on his chest but think better of it, and let it fall.

“You don’t like it?” he spits back. “You know what I don’t like, Alyx? I don’t like thinking you are safe in our room, only to come back and feel like a fool when you aren’t there. Feeling like a fool for believing the words that come out of your mouth. I thought what we had warranted truth from you. I thought I could trust you. ”

The guilt shakes more words from my mouth. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t planning on leaving, alright? I just couldn’t breathe in there, I felt like I was dying.” I’m aware that I sound ridiculous and that the truth is pathetic. And to make matters worse, I’m now crying big manipulative tears that I cannot stop. Wiping them away as fast as they fall, as if I could keep him from seeing them. Disappointing him feels like falling down an endless hole. And I’m scared. Scared that this moment came so soon and I’m not ready. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go so far and to be gone so long.”

He pushes off the wall, pacing the alley.

I can finally take a deep breath in the space.

I don’t want this to be the reason he decides I’m not worth it.

I just went for a walk. But I don’t know how to fix it.

He’s wild-eyed when he turns back around, pulling at his hair.

“I looked for you. I searched everywhere. The others are risking themselves, searching for you. That is why! That is why, Alyx. It’s selfish. After I tried to explain it to you. I try to make you understand and you just don’t. To put everyone at risk because you went a little stir-crazy. Do you know what it does to me? I could not breathe. You know I care about you. You know I am responsible for you. To have spent the last hour searching the city for you, knowing that you could already be in a dungeon. Or a corpse?” He heaves a big trembling sigh, staring at the brick wall above my head.

He won’t hear me. Maybe if I just stop talking, I won’t feed his ire. Maybe I can let him talk it out—rage if he needs to. I’ll just take it, whatever it is. I knew the consequences and now I have to face them.

I just stare at the filthy street and wait for him to continue.

“Where did you go?” he finally asks, turning to me.

I just shake my head; the truth won’t make him calm down.

“Tell me.”

I finally look up at him. He only seems to be getting more self-righteous.

“Nowhere important,” I say, looking back to the ground.

He’s right back there, in my face, taking it between his rough hands. Hands that usually feel so good against my skin, warm, gentle caresses. Now they feel too rough on the skin of my face. They squeeze just slightly too hard. “Tell. Me.”

“I just went to the end of the king’s road, to see the performers,” I say, looking him in the eyes, trying to be convincing. I’ll tell him the rest when we are on the boat to Ashvynd tomorrow. When he isn’t steeped in rage and paranoia.

“I checked there.” He nods, cocking his head to the side, muscle in his jaw feathering underneath his golden skin. “Where else?”

His consciousness brushes against the outside of mine. Gauging me. I make sure my shields are strong.

My hands start to shake. I shrug and say, “Just down a couple of side streets. The Crows were heavy on the main road, so I dipped off to the sides. I stopped at the play a couple of blocks away. Watched a couple of scenes.” I account for the extra time with that little lie.

His eyes narrow. “Is that it?”

“Yes. Then I came back here.” My eyes flicker between his.

It feels as if giant hands are painfully pulling my walls apart in my mind. I whimper as I fight it. If he feels my emotions he will feel that I’m keeping things from him.

“You’re lying to me.”

I’m building my walls again, part by part, as he tears them down. His mental strength is too much to combat.

“It was nothing,” I whisper. “I promise, I’m sorry, it was nothing.”

My hands clasp over the sides of my head, like that can stop the unravelling. The painful tearing. Like he’s in my house, kicking around all the furniture and breaking the windows.

“Tell me, then. You know I have to know. For everyone’s safety.”

He’s right. I’ve put them in danger. That woman certainly didn’t seem harmless. But the thought of telling him how I’ve messed up, when he’s like this, feels dangerous.

“When I went down the alley there was a woman—”a heaving breath—“she called me a healer. She knew us—you—she said she remembered you. I don’t know how. She made me come with her to her office—”

He withdraws quickly, and the pressure collapses.

Every line of him trembles now as he stumbles back.

I only have time to take a step back before it becomes too much.

The power he wields is always so tightly leashed. I don’t anticipate the sheer force of it as he bursts into flame.

Every bit of me deserves it as I lift my arm over my face, an errant limb singeing through cloth and skin.

It’s hot, so hot for a few seconds, as my skin sizzles and so does my heart.

The moment is so painfully slow as I experience it.

We never got much snow in Comraich, but one winter we did. One winter the whole world was covered in white, and I remember thinking that everything was so quiet. Like the entire universe stopped singing. The trickling of the creak, the song of birds paused. Frozen under a blanket of snow.

As the dust clears and I fall to my knees, it is that silence.

I take a shuddering breath as my head raises to the threat where he stands panting, looking at the wreckage with abject horror.

I’ve pushed him so far. Too far.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I whisper, desperately trying to placate him.

He’s slowly approaching me, as if I’m an injured animal, hands up.

I wait for further condemnation. To pay penance for my selfishness and lies, but none of that comes.

I try not to flinch as he kneels before me and wipes at my cheek.

The tear is gray with soot, and I wonder what my face must look like.

“Alyx…I’m so sorry. So, so sorry—”

Boot-steps, light and swift sound down the alley. A small group of them.

Fionn covers me from view, as if hiding his crimes. I peak behind him anyways, needing to see who approaches.

“Fionn, what did you do?” Deri snarls when he beholds us, kneeling in the rubble. He sees the wall, painted with soot behind us.

Dealla gasps, sidling up to her mate. Horror melts from her face and turns to stark feminine rage, cold as stone and pointed directly at Fionn. She advances on him in a blink, and he is thrown from his place at my knees down the alley, rolling from the force of it, kicking up dust and dirt. He coughs .

Armund stares in shocked horror, seemingly torn between running to me and going to help Fionn. He chooses nobody, forever the victim of indecision and inaction.

Dealla is pure righteous fury as she stalks Fionn down the alley. “What kind of male are you? Using your power to hurt people weaker than you. Pick on someone your own strength for once.” Every sentence is punctuated by another blow of power, some solid wind knocking Fionn back several paces with every strike.

Deri appears at my side, one eye on his mate. Fionn has finally begun defending himself, deflecting the blows only. Behind him Konan watches, hand on Aine’s shoulder, holding her back, looking disapprovingly at me. Elva is nowhere to be found.

Deri picks me up from where I kneel, surprisingly gentle for his hulking size. He peers into my eyes, taking in the mess my face must be. I don’t try to hide anything. I don’t feel anything. It’s all ringing in my ears—all white snow covering the whole world.

“I would sooner carve my heart from my chest before raising a hand to Dealla or Aine. You should have faith that Fionn would do the same.” Deri’s words are hard. He’s not much for words, except when he feels they’re needed. There is regret lining his eyes, strange on his normally gruff exterior. He strokes a hand down the back of my head, and it fractures the snow-covered peace. I can feel my hands shake now.

I nod, but I don’t believe him. Dealla and Aine are his mate and child. Fionn doesn’t even know what I am. Fionn does not know me… not really. All I to do is drag him and his Fianna into trouble. All I am is a burden.

All I’ve ever been able to do, is bring ruin. It can’t be a coincidence .

How can I keep pretending it isn’t me?

When everything around me wilts, how can I pretend I’m not poison in the water?

I don’t know why. All I know is that it is real.

I wonder if Deri’s words would hold if he knew that I have endangered all of us. Endangered his mate and child.

“Well, this day just keeps getting sweeter,” a dark voice sounds from behind Konan and Aine.

My blood runs cold.

I turn to see a group of fifteen Crows advancing on us, painting the world in darkness as their shadows crowd out the world behind them. The one at the front’s eyes glitter with hunger, even in the blackness. A twisted smile mars his gaunt face.

“I knew I felt Fae.”