Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair. We’re talking in circles, and still she refuses to understand. “Peace? Last time it took decades to vanquish Mathias, along with an army of experienced wizards. Many died. Too many were sacrificed.”
“The same is true in human wars. And like those, we don’t have any control over who lives or who dies. We only have control over what we do with our time on this earth.” She squeezes my hand. “If Lucan and Anka’s separation has shown us anything, it should be that, while lovers can suffer, love itself endures. Even without remembering Lucan, Anka missed someone dear like a physical pang. She spoke about it more than once.”
“And Lucan has been reduced to an animal.”
“You fear becoming like Lucan so much you would rather skip whatever time we might have together? If that’s the case, you don’t love me as deeply as I love you.” She sniffs. “And maybe I’ve no one to blame but myself.”
“Are you mad, woman. I love you. As deep as the oceans. As vast as the universe. But I won’t be able to endure the pain of losing more. Of losing you!”
“People live, they love…and they die.”
“But I lose over and over again.” A well of memories and fears rises inside me, drowning out logic and caution. Opening my past to Sydney will change everything.
But continuing to hide the truth is hurting her, and I can’t bear that anymore.
“I can’t find Anka, and Lucan is likely going to die. Today, I had to kill one of my old marine buddies in Mathias’s warehouse. It was one of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever done. And still not as difficult as the day magic ruined my life…”
Chapter
Fifty-Seven
Sydney wraps me in her warm embrace, offering silent support. “Tell me. I’m here.”
“It was the day I lost my younger brother, Westin.” I swallow, already so choked up that I can barely speak. “I was twelve. After Lucan, my parents tried for over two hundred years to have another child. They were elderly when I was born. Even so, Westin surprised them ten years later.
“He wasn’t quite two when we went out to play one summer morning. Westin was my little shadow. He was funny and bright and happy. God, his laugh was a treasure. He was learning to play pranks on everyone. He looked up to me. And I loved him… God.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I haven’t let myself think about that day or cry since Westin’s burial. Remembering his chapped little cheeks and happy giggles is like opening a chasm in my soul.
“I understand if you can’t say more now.”
I shake my head. “If I don’t, I’ll never finish. I was chasing him, pretending I was going to scoop him up and tickle him until he cried uncle. He ran, as always. He was a fast little bugger. Rather than catch him myself, I worked a little of the magic I’d been learning on him. He tripped.”
I can see it in my mind, those little feet stumbling, chubby hands flying. Why doesn’t closing my eyes make the vision go away?
“He fell?” Sydney prompts softly.
The only heat in my body comes from her soft touch. Everything else inside me is dead cold.
“Yes. And hit his head on a stone retaining wall. It was my fault.”
As I speak the words, I can see Westin’s feet tangle before he collided with craggy rocks, then crumpled to the ground, blood spewing from a ragged cut that burst his forehead wide open.
Sydney gasps. “It was an accident.”
I stab my eyes with a thumb and forefinger. Choke out the rest. Get it over with. After all, I owe her a complete explanation for breaking her heart. “I screamed, and my mother came running. I told her everything. She was rattled but promised that simple magic would make him well again. She squeezed my hand, and I remember feeling utter relief as she hovered her wand over Westin’s wound. Instead of healing, he choked, sputtered, and suffocated to death.”
Sydney frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“Her magic, meant to heal him, went awry. She was rattled, perhaps applied the wrong spell. I don’t know. After my mother stopped screaming, I remember hearing the song from the same fucking birds that were singing ten minutes before my life changed forever.”
“I’m so sorry, Caden.” Sydney wraps her arms even more tightly around me. “But it wasn’t your fault.”
How easy it would be to lean against her, let the balm of her love fill the festering wound inside me.
But dangerous.
“After that, my mother and I barely spoke. She retired to her bed and rarely left it. She claims she never blamed me but… Of course she did—and she should. I wouldn’t blame her for hating me. I used my magic, and it ultimately killed him and—”