I really need to exercise more. This is embarrassing.
I’d spent the majority of the morning and afternoon in the library poring over books and scrolls that detailed the history of Elyria in an attempt to find Rohak a viable Vessel. What I found most interesting, however, was the current census. There was something off about Samyr—one of the westernmost territoriesin the northern alliance—and I was excited to pick Rohak’s brain about it.
The fact that I had the opportunity to share information with Rohak again like we used to buoyed my thoughts, even though the information I’d discovered would help him find a Vessel.
A Vessel that wasn’t me.
I shook the thoughts from my head as I unlocked his office door, unsurprised to see it devoid of his presence.
It still smelled like him, though, and I deeply inhaled, allowing his scent to calm my racing heart, though it sent it into overdrive for other reasons.
My attraction to the grumpy General had only grown now that we reconciled, and I was giddy about sharing the same space again.
I kicked off my boots before I made myself comfortable on the floor, the census stretched out in front of me.
I’ll just wait here until he gets back.
Content, I lay on the ground and lost myself to my research.
Chapter 46
Rohak
My boots slammed against the stone floors, the pervasive color of the Academy matching my dark mood perfectly. A storm brewed just beneath my skin, my Destruction Magic sparking in response to my anger, thin wisps of ashes and embers swirling around my hands and forearms, coating me in a thin shroud of grey.
Grumbling and cursing beneath my breath, I fought to push the magic back, not wanting to access it and further push the early stages of Mage Sickness. Briefly, I contemplated throwing the crystals away, but if I got rid of my crystals, I was certain Alois would force me to Bond.
Something he made all too clear during our conversation tonight.
I wanted nothing more than to rage, to let my emotions show and run their course, but even with the late hour, Academy students and staff still bustled about. The last thing I needed right now, especially after that disastrous conversation with Alois, was to call my reputation and mental stability into question.
It would be the tipping point for Alois to strip me of both my rank as general and as his second-in-command.
Now, more than ever, it was imperative I keep both positions, no matter how much I despised being Alois’ second. Someone had to keep him in check, to monitor for signs of mental descent. And there was no one better fit for the task than me.
So I pushed my emotions down as deep as I could, let them fester and rot just beneath the surface, until I reached my office. Once I was there, once I was in my safe haven, I could unleash. Let the mask fall. Break, if I needed to.
But not here.
Not yet.
I kept my head down and steps hurried, my hands clenched into tight fists behind my back as I avoided any eye contact. The speed of my gait had me approaching my office door within minutes. The Mage Orb just to the right of my door glowed at my approach, and I unclenched my right hand as pain shot through my fingers from the tightness of my grip. Grunting at the pins and needles lacing through my hand, I held out my palm over the orb only to discover a slight tremor that only seemed to grow.
My breaths sawed raggedly as my heart beat a frantic rhythm within my chest. A sharp ringing muffled any other noise, and I barely registered the click of the lock as the door unlatched and swung inward. The deep thump of my heart and the sound of my breathing echoed in my ears as I carefully closed the door behind me.
The edges of my vision blurred, the furniture and objects in my office hazed over as I felt rage consume my very soul.
It was like an out-of-body experience; I felt nothing but my incandescent anger—my limbs and hands long since numb. I heard nothing. Not the scream that rent from my throat nor the shattering of glass as I chucked ornament after paper weight at the wall next to the fireplace—the shards glinting in the light asthe figures burst into a million pieces before resting on the floor, falling like snow.
But the shattering of stupid fucking baubles wasn’t enough to assuage the deep-seated emotions that now finally crested to the surface after stewing for years—inadequacy over my religious and romantic convictions, disgust at my best friend’s actions, frustration at being able to do nothing but sit and watch as thousands were killed in the name of the gods. And, beneath it all, a deep-rooted fear that I was wrong—that I picked the wrong side in this never-ending war. That my convictions were misplaced. That I’d sacrificed so much of myself, so much of my life, in service to a friend that was more monster than man, that I’d sacrificed my own happiness—the potential for love and forgiveness—by holding onto the truths my dead parents instilled in me so many decades ago.
I stood, chest heaving, throat raw from screaming, and stared at the broken pieces of glass in all shapes and sizes. It was a perfect symbol for my dreams and trust—misused and shattered on the floor. Inadvertently, I felt my Destruction Magic snake along my skin and seep from my pores, anxious tofinishwhatever it was that we started.
I wanted, no Ineededto destroy. It was a constant chant in my mind, a drumbeat of conviction as I tapped into the singular crystal pushing against my skin.
Just one more time.
Before I could commit whatever act my damaged brain could conjure, I felt the light touch of a thin, strong hand. The sensation was barely there, my instinct-driven brain barely able to comprehend the action, but I felt my face slowly turn toward the offending appendage. My magic slithered further up until it touched the light-brown fingers wrapped around my forearm. They flinched slightly as my magic brushed against them, and Isuddenly had the urge to devour—to take until there was nothing left.
