I knew I was lucky, though. The storm might have had unnatural causes, but I could detect no hint of Chaos magic in the air any longer, the growls of thunder growing farther apart.
The araks moaned in agitation, throwing their big, horned heads around as I entered. They did not calm down when I raised the hand with the light in it and talked to them in a low voice, making me realize that what bothered them was the lingering scent of Noctis’s blood on me.
Twice the size of a horse, with shaggy fur covering their massive four-legged bodies, araks served as sturdy beasts of burden, and were valued for their nourishing bluish milk and their meat. I stepped over to Alma, the matriarch of the herd. She leaned her head out of the stall, sniffing at me, her big, brown eyes full of concern.
“Shh,” I murmured, scratching behind one of her fluffy ears wherea large, curved horn jutted out. The thick, dark fur was soft and warm beneath my fingers. “Everything is alright.”
At least, I hoped it would be. As my animals calmed, I rested my head against Alma for a few moments, breathing in her comforting musk. A sigh escaped me.
“Maker,” I said, “give me strength.” Not that the Allfather was likely to approve of my actions. He had created the Aurea to be obedient and dutiful. Clearly, he had failed with Noctis—and with me. A painful truth it had taken me centuries to accept. Nowadays, the realization of where my choices had led me only stirred the faintest hint of regret. The single advantage of having fallen as far as I had. Even if I wished to, I could not change the past; I had to live with it.
Alma’s eyes held a humbling amount of reassurance as she nuzzled my hand when I moved away. Her silent support fortified me as I entered the small storage room at the end of the building and lifted the metal rod from its resting place. Its weight was heavy in my hands as I stepped back into the house.
Blessedlyr, was I really contemplating using this on Noctis?
Dismissing any unwelcome inklings of pity, I stirred the dwindling embers in the hearth, reigniting the fire. Sparks flew up as I thrust the iron rod deep into the flames. My previous experience made me careful, so I retrieved two leather belts before returning to my bedroom. It felt disturbingly like a violation as I bound Noctis’s wrists to the bedposts. Thank the stars, they were quite sturdy.
“No!”
I had barely finished when Noctis tensed, panic flashing over his face as he fought against the restraints. Curse it! I had hoped he would remain unconscious.
“Hush.” My gentle touch on his arm did nothing to calm him. “I’m sorry, but I have to make sure you can’t move.” I swallowed hard andforced myself to continue. “The wound won’t stop bleeding. I have to cauterize it.”
Noctis ceased struggling and closed his eyes, making me wonder if he had understood me. A deep breath lifted his chest, bitterness in his gaze as he looked at me again. “Don’t want to waste any magic on the likes of me?”
What? For a moment, I stared at him in incomprehension before realizing what his words meant.
He did not know. He was aware of my banishment, or else he wouldn’t have sought me out. But he had no knowledge of the depths of my fall, of the fact that I was as mortal as he.
I would be a fool to tell him how weak and helpless I had become without knowing why he had come here and what had happened to him.
“No, of course not,” I said, opting for a half-truth. “But setting free a larger amount of Aurean magic could garner unwanted attention.”
Anger flickered in those dark eyes. “Curse my brother. Doesn’t he even let you use your powers?”
I chose not to comment on his assumptions. He sighed.
“Get another one of those,” he croaked out with a jerk of his head toward one of his bound wrists. “Otherwise I might bite my tongue.”
I did as he suggested. While I didn’t have an extra belt, I stored fabric and material scraps in a drawer in my main room for repairing purposes. The strip of sturdy leather I found in there, left over from mending my boots, should suffice. Noticing the fiery red glow at the tip of the metal rod, I cautiously picked it up and carried it to my bedroom. I avoided Noctis’s eyes as I offered him the leather to bite on. This was all too much. Too close, too intimate.
My hand tightened around the iron, which looked ominously like a cruel instrument of torture. Before I could decide how to proceed, Noctis spat the leather piece from his mouth.
“Do you have anything to numb the pain?” he asked, his jaw clenching as his gaze shifted to the glowing rod. He shook his head when I reached for the healing stone. “Mortal magic is worth shit.” The amount of derisive condescension in his voice was impressive, given he had to breathe in deeply a few times to get the words out. “Don’t you have any spirits in the house? Something strong, preferably.”
“A Brownie moonshine,” I said, already moving to fetch the home-brewed cherry liquor Dolores Underforge had gifted me last summer.
Noctis took a large gulp of the vile concoction as I held the bottle to his lips, a rough curse escaping him between coughs. I permitted him two more mouthfuls before putting the bottle away and returning the leather to his lips. It wouldn’t help anyone if he vomited all over my bed.
I didn’t ask if he was ready. Honestly, how could anyone ever be ready for something like this? Instead, I acted swiftly. I knew that if I tried to steel myself, if I hesitated for even a moment, I would lose my nerve and never go through with it.
The sizzling noise as the heated metal touched the wound made me shudder, the smell of burnt flesh turning my stomach with its sickeningly sweet intensity.
And then Noctis screamed. A sound of such agony that it ripped through the air, echoing endlessly, even around the leather piece between his teeth, drowning out the storm outside. I had only heard him scream like this once before, when the Ten had joined their magic to punish him, our power tearing through him relentlessly, leaving only ashes in its wake.
His restraints held, but barely, the leather groaning as he thrashed against them, trying in vain to escape the excruciating pain. Afterward, I was unsure how I had managed it. How I had forcedmyself to cover the entire wound, keeping the heated metal pressed against his skin long enough for it to work.
Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I had thought I wanted to see Noctis suffer. To make him endure a fraction of the agony he had caused me. To see him brought to justice. But like on that terrible day in the Temple of Order, my righteous anger faltered at the sight of his pain. It seemed almost barbaric—as if his last trick had been to turn the tables and reveal us as the true monsters after all. As if it made me a monster now.
