Page 75 of Ignite the Infernos

“Clever,” I note as she wanders over to the large mirror I sometimes find her staring at as though she’s studying it for some reason.

“I know,” she retorts while smoothing her hair in the reflection.

I laugh despite myself. I want to slurp up her sass with a spoon and come back for seconds and thirds. If only she’d give me the side of honesty I’m asking for and trust me to do the same.

Ever turns back to me, her face serious. “Once we walk out that door, we need to act like the happiest bonded couple there ever was. Loving. Thoughtful. Protective,” she punctuates. “Don’t let the act fool you though, Noctis. I will kiss you, cuddle you, and stare into your eyes dreamily to sell this, but it changes nothing between us. Got it?”

I stare at her for a long, drawn-out moment, teetering between offense, hurt, and understanding. I want everything she just said to be our reality, not an act. We’re Bonded Mates, for fuck’s sake; it should be how we feel about one another. Faking it is the antithesis of who I am and what I stand for, and yet I know I’ll do it anyway.

I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything I won’t do for her.

I used to have such clear lines, such set notions about the world and my place in it. Then Ever Tenebrae came crashing into my life, and nothing looks or works like I thought.

I want to change this dynamic we keep cycling into, but it feels impossible. How do I say, I want to love you, but you won’t let me, when I understand all the reasons why? How do I find my way beneath her layers without cutting through her entirely?

She stares at me expectantly, but I don’t have an answer to her loaded question. Not one that isn’t as complicated as the problem is to begin with, and there’s no time to go there right now. So instead of flaying myself open by replying, I silently offer her my arm, and then we walk out, side by side, to face the onslaught together.

Chapter 33

Ever

GUARDS STAND AT ATTENTION ON every corner, but I can’t tell if they’re for our protection, or to watch over the curious onlookers that line the walls. They unabashedly watch our procession even though our surrounding Wing members block their view.

“Quite the walk,” I mention casually when we traverse another long hallway that feels more like a parade route.

“You’ve drawn quite the crowd,” Aeson agrees.

“They can’t even see me,” I point out, gesturing to the wall of drakes encircling us.

“It doesn’t matter—just knowing you exist, and that for a few minutes they were in your presence, is significant,” he counters.

I scoff. “Or they’re just waiting for the perfect opportunity to take a shot at me.”

Aeson stops walking, and his Wing immediately stops too. I turn to see what’s wrong, only to find a gorgeous, yet severe-looking face staring down at me intently.

“The Horde is so much more than just its nobility and this—” Aeson starts gesturing to the keep. “Dragons as a whole lost an irreplaceable kith and a beloved king during the rebellion. For every dragon who might want you dead, there are ten others that revere you. Your existence is a bright star glittering in the depths of a void-dark sky.” My pulse judders when Aeson steps closer. “For so many, you are a sign of healing, a declaration of prosperity, and a harbinger of hope. And whether you like it or not, there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.” Aeson brushes a lock of hair off my shoulder and drops his voice until only I can hear him. “Move through this world carefully, Claws, but don’t forget to bring some grace for your people along for the ride too.”

With that he steps around me and continues down the hall. I pause for only a moment and then hurry to catch up.

“I don’t see you flinging around any grace and compassion as you go about your day,” I accuse, shaking off the unexpected sting of his words.

“I am not a star,” he states matter-of-factly as I draw even with him.

“Then what are you?”

Aeson’s face hardens into the mask he always dons in public. “I am the dark sky, so my brother can be the gleaming star.”

His words hit me like a sandcycle. How many times have I felt the exact same about Enslee?

She is the queen and I am the sacrifice.

The blood stains my hands so it doesn’t stain hers.

My eyes drop to my arm and study the tallies marked there. I bear the scars so my sister doesn’t have to.

The vise that’s been clamped around my chest for the past few days loosens, and I draw in a deep breath. It feels like I’m filling my lungs for the first time since Aeson and I fought, and I’m both relieved and frustrated. Nothing has been solved. Neither of us has made headway on the issues we unloaded on each other. Yet somehow he’s once again burrowed his way deeper into who I am, and I don’t hate it, not for one second, and I probably should.

We approach a set of doors, and the group that’s gathered in front of them. It takes me a moment to recognize that it’s King Noctis and Lorn waiting with their Wings. The surrounding behemoths, decked only in scowls and scale armor, part when our group approaches, and I instantly recognize that Aeson’s father and brother are both wearing the exact shade of plum that I am. I turn to Aeson, confusion written across my face.