Wicked Abyss
Page 73
“Didn’t I tell you? There’s nothing better than matehood.” Rune’s contentedness surprised her. Abyssian had confided more of what Magh had done to the archer, and it’d been horrific. Did Rune deserve revenge? Gods, yes.
Just not against me.
When Josephine joined Rune on the steps, he wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss into her hair. So clearly in love.
Lila gazed from them to Abyssian. Though the demon continued to reveal those hints of vulnerability to her, something was weighing on him. Did he have a secret of his own?
Abyssian asked the two, “Have you ever heard of the seven dwarves?”
Josephine grinned. “Yeah, they sound a jot familiar. Why do you ask?”
Frowning, he said, “My mate named a pack of hellhounds after them, but I’m baffled why those seven are significant among all other dwarves in the Lore. If she admires them, I would like to understand better.”
Lila sighed. That demon.
Josephine said, “They’re a band of miners who aided and abetted an endangered royal named Snow White. They’re basically revolutionaries.”
Hey, I’m the only one who gets to fuck with him over mortal-realm references.
“I see,” Abyssian said, no doubt thinking the dwarves had gone by code names. “That makes sense.”
“Is your mate really a reincarnate?” Josephine asked.
Nod. “She lived ten millennia ago.”
“How weird.” No kidding. “Does she have memories from her past life?”
“No. Nor does she want them.”
Lila had told Abyssian as much a few days before. . . .
He asked her, “Have you accepted you are a reincarnate?”
“I . . . have. I’ve also accepted that I probably won’t ever remember my previous existence.”
“I could use magic to help you.”
She exhaled. “Why would I want to, Abyssian? And more, why would you want me to remember my own death?” As well as the death of her child. Considering she would never be pregnant in this life, that memory would be all the more devastating. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“How did she die?” Josephine asked, seeming absorbed with the subject of reincarnation.
His expression darkened. “Childbirth. She . . . she wed another.”
In one of Lila’s late-night talks with the demon, he’d told her about her first husband. . . .
“That fuck couldn’t wait a few months for her—you—to transition? I . . . it never made sense to me. How could he risk you?” The demon’s thought hit her. —When I would’ve done anything for you!— “I was supposed to protect my mate, but that sealed portal kept me from reaching you. He as good as killed you, and there was nothing I could do to save you.”
“Did you confront him?”
“I did. His assassination was my first act as a Møriør.” Gaze gone distant, Abyssian said, “They never found all the pieces of him.”
So much rage. How could he not always resent the past—and therefore her? Already he would hate her for her very blood.
Rune told him, “I’m glad you’ve forgiven your female for the past.” When no response came, he said, “You have forgiven her, right?”
Lila held her breath, though she knew the answer. No, he had not.
When she’d asked Abyssian what his life was like before he’d taken the throne, he’d answered, “I thought I’d found a measure of contentment. Now I know I’d just been numb since your death.”
For ten thousand years.
Yet he wanted her to believe that he’d relinquished his anger against her?
Abyssian was a proud trickster. She hoped the joke wasn’t on her, because she was falling for him hard.
At length, he said, “It’s complicated.”
Actually, it was really simple: too many things stood between them. As long as he resented her for deeds done in the far-distant past, he would never give her a fair shake in this present.
If she confessed the truth to him, she would be vulnerable. The tower awaited.
But if she kept concealing her identity, he would find out eventually.
Lila couldn’t see a way out of this bind. Pain was inevitable, no matter what course of action she decided on. Unwelcome realization struck her. . . .
I can’t figure this the fuck out.
Abyssian stood. “I’m keen to return to her.”
Shit, shit! Got to get back! Would the secret opening let her out this time?
Lila hesitated when Rune said, “Will you tell your mate we were here?”
“I won’t lie to her if she asks. But I don’t want to distress her unnecessarily either.”
Josephine said, “She might put her foot down and forbid us from returning. If I didn’t know Rune, I sure as shit would.”
Abyssian straightened. “I will never bar my friends from this castle.”
Good to know . . .
“One last thing,” Rune said. “I accept—grudgingly—that we’re not to harm the inhabitants of Sylvan.” He did? “But I’ve got leads on a few of Magh’s descendants who live outside the kingdom.” Like . . . me? “Are those outliers included in your vow?”
Abyssian shook his head. “If they’re evil, take them out.”
Before Sian returned to Calliope, he traced to one of Graven’s many echoing corridors in search of a mirror.
Josephine had spoken about his appearance deteriorating. He needed to see how bad the hell-change had gotten since he’d last assessed his looks. How quickly was he failing?
Though Sian was transforming parts of his dimension, he couldn’t transform himself. The hourglass kept pouring.
He found a mirror. How much time do I have left with Calliope? Inhaling, he faced the glass.
My gods. His fangs were longer, his horns even larger. The mask around his eyes had spread outward, becoming more prominent. Another line of hell metal had appeared between his brows. So the number of his piercings would keep increasing?
If all of his demonic features continued to grow more exaggerated, a time would come when things he took for granted became impossible.
Such as speech. Or pleasuring his mate.
The patience he’d demonstrated toward Calliope’s claiming was replaced by urgency.
He conjured a picture of himself and Rune from not so many months ago. My former likeness. Sian would’ve made a fitting partner for a beauty like Calliope.
Just not against me.
When Josephine joined Rune on the steps, he wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss into her hair. So clearly in love.
Lila gazed from them to Abyssian. Though the demon continued to reveal those hints of vulnerability to her, something was weighing on him. Did he have a secret of his own?
Abyssian asked the two, “Have you ever heard of the seven dwarves?”
Josephine grinned. “Yeah, they sound a jot familiar. Why do you ask?”
Frowning, he said, “My mate named a pack of hellhounds after them, but I’m baffled why those seven are significant among all other dwarves in the Lore. If she admires them, I would like to understand better.”
Lila sighed. That demon.
Josephine said, “They’re a band of miners who aided and abetted an endangered royal named Snow White. They’re basically revolutionaries.”
Hey, I’m the only one who gets to fuck with him over mortal-realm references.
“I see,” Abyssian said, no doubt thinking the dwarves had gone by code names. “That makes sense.”
“Is your mate really a reincarnate?” Josephine asked.
Nod. “She lived ten millennia ago.”
“How weird.” No kidding. “Does she have memories from her past life?”
“No. Nor does she want them.”
Lila had told Abyssian as much a few days before. . . .
He asked her, “Have you accepted you are a reincarnate?”
“I . . . have. I’ve also accepted that I probably won’t ever remember my previous existence.”
“I could use magic to help you.”
She exhaled. “Why would I want to, Abyssian? And more, why would you want me to remember my own death?” As well as the death of her child. Considering she would never be pregnant in this life, that memory would be all the more devastating. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“How did she die?” Josephine asked, seeming absorbed with the subject of reincarnation.
His expression darkened. “Childbirth. She . . . she wed another.”
In one of Lila’s late-night talks with the demon, he’d told her about her first husband. . . .
“That fuck couldn’t wait a few months for her—you—to transition? I . . . it never made sense to me. How could he risk you?” The demon’s thought hit her. —When I would’ve done anything for you!— “I was supposed to protect my mate, but that sealed portal kept me from reaching you. He as good as killed you, and there was nothing I could do to save you.”
“Did you confront him?”
“I did. His assassination was my first act as a Møriør.” Gaze gone distant, Abyssian said, “They never found all the pieces of him.”
So much rage. How could he not always resent the past—and therefore her? Already he would hate her for her very blood.
Rune told him, “I’m glad you’ve forgiven your female for the past.” When no response came, he said, “You have forgiven her, right?”
Lila held her breath, though she knew the answer. No, he had not.
When she’d asked Abyssian what his life was like before he’d taken the throne, he’d answered, “I thought I’d found a measure of contentment. Now I know I’d just been numb since your death.”
For ten thousand years.
Yet he wanted her to believe that he’d relinquished his anger against her?
Abyssian was a proud trickster. She hoped the joke wasn’t on her, because she was falling for him hard.
At length, he said, “It’s complicated.”
Actually, it was really simple: too many things stood between them. As long as he resented her for deeds done in the far-distant past, he would never give her a fair shake in this present.
If she confessed the truth to him, she would be vulnerable. The tower awaited.
But if she kept concealing her identity, he would find out eventually.
Lila couldn’t see a way out of this bind. Pain was inevitable, no matter what course of action she decided on. Unwelcome realization struck her. . . .
I can’t figure this the fuck out.
Abyssian stood. “I’m keen to return to her.”
Shit, shit! Got to get back! Would the secret opening let her out this time?
Lila hesitated when Rune said, “Will you tell your mate we were here?”
“I won’t lie to her if she asks. But I don’t want to distress her unnecessarily either.”
Josephine said, “She might put her foot down and forbid us from returning. If I didn’t know Rune, I sure as shit would.”
Abyssian straightened. “I will never bar my friends from this castle.”
Good to know . . .
“One last thing,” Rune said. “I accept—grudgingly—that we’re not to harm the inhabitants of Sylvan.” He did? “But I’ve got leads on a few of Magh’s descendants who live outside the kingdom.” Like . . . me? “Are those outliers included in your vow?”
Abyssian shook his head. “If they’re evil, take them out.”
Before Sian returned to Calliope, he traced to one of Graven’s many echoing corridors in search of a mirror.
Josephine had spoken about his appearance deteriorating. He needed to see how bad the hell-change had gotten since he’d last assessed his looks. How quickly was he failing?
Though Sian was transforming parts of his dimension, he couldn’t transform himself. The hourglass kept pouring.
He found a mirror. How much time do I have left with Calliope? Inhaling, he faced the glass.
My gods. His fangs were longer, his horns even larger. The mask around his eyes had spread outward, becoming more prominent. Another line of hell metal had appeared between his brows. So the number of his piercings would keep increasing?
If all of his demonic features continued to grow more exaggerated, a time would come when things he took for granted became impossible.
Such as speech. Or pleasuring his mate.
The patience he’d demonstrated toward Calliope’s claiming was replaced by urgency.
He conjured a picture of himself and Rune from not so many months ago. My former likeness. Sian would’ve made a fitting partner for a beauty like Calliope.
