“But this was the only path that gave you the strength to choose him,” Veyra said, “and the chance to stand against what comes.”
“You’re wrong.” Kara shook her head fiercely. “Before all this, the Shards, everything... I thought about going to Sebastian in Durent. Leaving the wedding. Iwantedto.” The words sounded desperate to her own ears.
For the first time, there was pity in Veyra’s eyes. “You would not have done it. Some visions shift with possibility. That one did not.”
“But our magic sharing–”
“–is a memory you would have held close,” Veyra finished, her voice quiet, final. “Nothing more.”
“You don’t know that. I would always choose Sebastian,” Kara said angrily.
Veyra regarded her for a long moment. “Now you would, yes.”
It hit Kara with horrible clarity: wanting Sebastian had never been the problem. Acting on it had.
“And you must prove it,” Veyra told her. “He is at war with himself. He fears he is unworthy of you, unworthy of what the Arcanth demands. He will not listen to me, or to prophecy. Only you can reach him.”
Kara swallowed hard. “And if I can’t?”
Veyra’s expression never wavered. “If you and the Warrior are not bonded by the time Draknor land on our shores... Vallenna burns.”
CHAPTER 35
THE CHOICES WE MAKE
Lieutenant S. Thorne shows great swordsmanship and field ability; however, he appears to assume personal responsibility for losses beyond his control. His captain will monitor.
–Thorne Field Report, Ice Lands Campaign, 75th Year of Water
Sebastian slammed the library doors shut behind him. He couldn’t look at Kara’s face right now. Couldn’t risk seeing his own doubt mirrored back at him.
It was never her choice. It was all a lie.
The woman he loved – the woman he thought had chosen him – freely and completely, had been manoeuvred into his arms like a puppet. His hands shook. Crimson had started to spit off his fingers. He needed to hit something, break something. The first thing he saw in the square outside was a Fatàn monument – a low obsidian slab, glowing with silver glyphs, the Fatàn creed etched on it clear in the torchlight:
The Future is Written
Crimson blurred the edges of his vision.
His fists came down hard on the stone. A resounding crack filled the air. Again. Again. His magic exploded out of him – uncontrolled, unleashed, in a way it hadn’t been in years. It sparked from his palms in violent arcs, searing down on the silver glyphs.
Watch what fucking happens when you try to control me.
The obsidian slab glowed at the edges where his power struck, melting, the air hissing with heat. Crimson flared wilder with each impact. The slab fractured. Shattered. Chunks of stone flew across the square. Pain shot through his knuckles, hot and searing, but he welcomed it. It drowned out the chaos in his head. He only stoppedwhen the last dark shards cracked apart in his hands. When his own blood smeared the stone. He gazed across the empty square, his breathing ragged, his mind screaming the same thought over and over.
Without their prophecy, she would have married Caldris.
Duty would have won.
Crimson energy still pulsed over his hands in furious bursts. It was going to rip him apart if he didn’t get a handle on it. But he wanted the anger, the destruction – he wanted to burn the entire city to the ground.
Then he felt her.
Felt Kara’s magic reach for his, steady where his was chaos, calm where his was a storm. He didn’t want it. He tore away from it.
“Sebastian–”
Her voice echoed through the silent square, and he rounded on her, furious.
