Page 166
Aurelion’s smile deepened.
“So that is what this is.”
Lucan’s jaw tightened.
“Do not,” he snarled.
“Do not what?” Aurelion asked mildly. “Observe? That, for example,” he said as his gaze returned to Elarian, “the Ashen Blade stands before me, your scent still upon her breath?”
Elarian’s hand slowly moved toward the space where her blade would have rested before flitting her gaze to the upper balcony where her silver still lay. Lucan had intended to return it to her that evening…Gods, what had he done?
“I have heard stories,” he continued, “and I must confess, I am hurt you chose my disobedient son over me.”
“You do not scare me, shivaem,” she spat with that terrible hatred Lucan had grown to love.
Aurelion tilted his head.
“No.” His eyes moved over her carefully. “I know you are very good at pretending you are not afraid.”
The room grew colder, her breath misting the air between them. Lucan’s shadows stirred as Aurelion looked back at his son.
“You always did have a weakness for broken things.”
Lucan flinched.
“Jace is useful, but the rest? Come now, Lucan. I know you do not truly think any of them will find something worth loving in you. To kill your own father in exchange for immortality…Does she know the man you always have been?”
“I loved my father,” Lucan strained. “You are far too heartless to understand I offered him the only mercy I could.”
“Five hundred years,” Aurelion continued, ignoring him completely, “and you still react exactly the same.”
His gaze shifted between them.
“How fascinating.”
forty-eight
Starborn
Elarian felt Lucan tense beside her—not with anger, but with real, genuine fear. And for the first time, she understood something she had never been able to see before: Lucan Valmere was not afraid of death.
He had been waiting for it for centuries. Every battle. Every reckless charge into the Evermist. Every moment he stood before her with a blade at his throat and that arrogant smile upon his lips.
He had never been trying to survive, but rather find something strong enough to finally end him.
But this…this was different.
Aurelion stepped closer to Lucan.
“Tell me, Lucan.” The Bloodlord’s smile faded. “Did you truly believe you could keep something from me?”
For once, the Blooded Prince had no sharp remark, no cruel amusement, no carefully crafted arrogance to hide behind. His lips trembled as shadows writhed around him, restless and desperate like starving animals trapped behind iron bars.
They could tear apart armies and swallow castles whole. They bound Elarian where she stood, held her tight while he whispered in her ear and confused all her senses.
Yet before Aurelion, they were nothing.
Useless.
