Page 119 of Of Shadows and Blood

“Who told you?” I question, slowly descending the steps. I just have to get through this.

“Why?” he responds, his voice cracking. He smells of mud and rain.

I stop at the base of the stairs, hands shaking and mind unyielding. Going through with this is the only way. I know he won’t understand but this has to happen.

“Don’t run away,” Cedric whispers. In the past nine months, I’ve learned his emotions better than my own. The way his brows crease when he has anxiety, the subtle twitch in his jaw when he holds his tongue. I see it all now. He wants me to stay, badly. But this won’t last forever.

He must know it, too.

“Cedric, don’t.”

He moves to grab my hand but I retract, taking a step closer to the doors. I know I’ve just hurt him more and I will continue to do so if I stay. My eyes burn from the tears that won’t fall.

“You’re going to leave now? Even with all of our progress. Come on, Liv. You’re not blind to the connection between us. How can you choose a path that takes you so far from me? We’re bound to one another.”

“The progress means little to you, I fear. I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“What I want you to be? Liv, I want you to be mine.”

“Do not hide it. I can’t be who you want me to be,” I snap and his eyes begin moving erratically.

“I—”

“You told me when I shook your hand that I could leave at any moment,” I retort, avoiding his stare.

Cedric paces the length of the room, running his hands through his hair. He’s panicking. “Don’t tell me you actually want to leave.”

“Then tell me you all will cease looking for the cure to my curse. My powers are emerging. We can solve that organically.”

He stares blankly, no, madly at me. His shadows spill out and his fingers twitch. Yet, he says nothing.

Shaking, I nod. The tears find purchase and flow endlessly. I know the pain I’m causing but I also know the pain I am shielding us both from. “You’re making this hard. Let me leave. Release me.”

“Release you to Sawyer, you mean,” he grits. Our eyes find each other then and he reads the answer on my face.

“We tried,” I pause, “and we failed. I am not Elivienne, the girl you fell in love with. She’s gone. Gods, the cess aren’t even sure how to fully cure me. I can either stay here and live a confused life trying to fit into spaces that cause more distress or I can go figure it out somewhere else. With Sawyer, I’m afforded my own space away from all of this.” I gesture to the castle.

A few servants stop at the top of the main staircase and scurry away. The gossip will surely make its way around in no time. I have no desire to further muddy the image of Cedric’s reign, which makes this more humiliating.

“Don’t give me that. Don’t run away.” His voice raises. “I love you, Liv. I love you presently. I would be lying and doing a great disservice to myself to say that I do not love you. I love you with every ounce of being in me.” Cedric falls to his knees and grabs my hands. Tears well in his eyes and I let him hold me like this. I see him now, not as the broken king, but as a king deserving of so much more. He deserves someone who is whole. Someone who can lead to the intensity that he can.

“Our love is no imitation of what once was – it is a beautiful rebirth. Please don’t do this. I would never force you to heal or whatever you think I want out of this. Isn’t that what you want to hear? I want you, isn’t that clear?” Cedric says as a lone tear falls down his cheek. My thumb traces his face once more, committing the angle of his jaw to memory. If he could will me to stay, I believe he would try until his dying breath.

A nerve in me questions my decision but the hurt has been done. My time here is done.

“Goodbye, Cedric,” I manage to say, bending to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

And this is how I leave the king of the strongest kingdom.

Alone.

Chapter 32

The Gods who have gifted so many with the power of decision are also the makers of their own downfall.

Crossing the border, riding past Hybad, past Brynnwood, it all feels fuzzy. As if I were laying in a pile of freshly shorn wool. The pain of leaving softened by…

Softened by whatever I feel now. If it has a name. A stasis? The hope for more but regret for feeling that more is what I want. I am not sure what more is, what it will look like. I am the blind following a deeply troubled, confused, damning heart.