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With Hearts of Flame

Page 72

by Briar Boleyn

Blake didn’t move; his face was stunned. I felt dizzy with shock. “You mean, Aryel …”

“I don’t think she wanted any of this, if that’s what you’re asking,” Theo said swiftly.

The letter was an abomination. My stomach churned.

A chair shattered against the wall. I turned to see Blake’s face was furious. I could feel the power rolling off him—barely contained and palpable.

“That fucking bastard.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I pity her. I feel for Aryel, I truly do.” He shook his head. “But how could she hide this from you? How could she let you grow up believing …”

“Wouldn’t it have been worse?” Theo’s voice was tired. “The truth is so much worse. Besides, she was right about one thing. My true father didn’t want to claim me. He fucking hates me. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care if I was dead.”

Blake turned away, pacing like a caged animal. “I will kill him. Not someday. Not metaphorically. I will end Viktor.”

I took a step toward Theo, placing my hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. This is all horrific. What he did to your mother. What he did to you. But listen to me—none of this changes who you are. Not to yourself or to us.”

Theo looked up at me, his eyes rimmed red. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“I do,” I insisted. “You are still the same Theo you’ve always been. You are brave and funny and loyal and a good friend.”

“Loyal?” Theo shook his head. “How can you even say that after …”

“You did this to try to help Vaughn,” I said firmly. “You wouldn’t have shot Nyxaris, otherwise.” I tried to laugh. “I think you know better than that.”

Blake turned to his cousin. “She’s right. Viktor doesn’t get to rewrite your life just because he tells you this. You are not him. You never were and you never will be.” Blake’s mouth twisted. “Look at me, Theo. I’m more like Viktor than I ever thought I’d be. The things I’ve done—”

“He made you do those things,” Theo said, loyally. Then he stopped. “Oh.”

“Exactly,” Blake said, throwing up his hands.

“Viktor is very fucking good at getting people to do what he wants,” I pointed out, “and what they do not want to do. You, Blake, your mother, who knows who else. But please, we can’t do this right now. We can all fall apart later—together. Right now, Florence is gone. Viktor took her. He clearly planned this.”

“What the hell happened to Nyxaris?” Blake demanded. “Surely he’d go straight after Florence.”

“I … don’t know if he’d have been able to,” Theo hedged.

My blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”

Theo’s face was troubled. “I mean, Viktor had me use the bolts Rodriguez gave us. But … he also gave me some others. I don’t know what was on them. It was something new.”

I swore under my breath.

“Did anyone see what happened to Nyxaris? Where he landed?” Blake demanded.

Theo shook his head.

“When?” I demanded, suddenly. “When did you even find time to do this? And how did Viktor even contact you in the first place?”

“Right before I fished Visha out of the water,” Theo said guiltily. “Before you got there. You were so busy looking up at Blake.” His face fell. “And as for Viktor … It started when he sent me a letter.”

“Right.” I’d been conveniently distracted. I shook my head thinking about the letter. What a wonderful first missive to receive from your long-lost father … who also happened to be your uncle. We would just have to save all that trauma to unpack with Theo later. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. We need to help Florence, and we need to help Vaughn.” I looked at Theo. “Do you have any idea where they could be?”

Theo hesitated. “I know where Vaughn might be, but I don’t know if that’s where Viktor will have taken Florence. One of the old Drakharrow manors inside the city wasn’t destroyed in the … dragon attack. Viktor summoned me there when he gave me the bolts.”

I glanced at Blake.

“It’s worth a shot,” he said quietly. “At the very least, maybe we can get Vaughn and his family to safety.” He was already moving to a chest in the corner that I knew was filled with weapons and armor.

I nodded numbly. In my mind, I was ten steps ahead. I was picturing pulling Florence to her feet, wrapping my arms around her. She had to be there. She had to be alive. She just had to.