Page 21 of End of the Sword


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“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Ace rephrased Shelby’s question.

In one swift movement, Rehan’s legs slid from the arm of the throne and landed with asmackbelow him. He straightened in the seat before leaning his elbows on his knees and steepling his hands.

“Warlocks and witches are just muddled down bloodlines of the gods.”

He said it so matter of fact. So plain. There was no smugness in his gaze at knowing he’d been more knowledgeable than even the warlock himself. In true Rehan fashion, there was only softness. Pity.

That damn pity forced Shelby’s spine ramrod straight, his jaw tensing and relaxing like he was chewing on his words before he decided to speak them.

“That is just myth and legend,” he finally spat.

“It is no more myth and legend than the gods themselves. However, I understand it might be unsettling to find out something you didn’t believe has been true all these years.”

Shelby was part of the gods’ bloodline?Ace rubbed at her forehead where it had begun to ache from her furrowed brows.

“How do you know that?” Ace forced herself to ask though she was certain she knew the answer.

“I’ve spent a lot of time talking to the gods themselves. I’ve picked up a lot of knowledge long since forgotten from them.”

And you could have too,Sylik whispered followed by a quiet hum of agreement buzzing from Eidur.

“Ace…” Shelby’s tone had lowered to quiet self-reflection.

Whatever he was about to say never came, leaving Ace wanting to jump in and fill the stretching silence.

“It makes sense,” she started. “That’s why I could see in my mind what you were creating with your magic. It was like you were speaking to me. Like I could hear your inner voice.” What she didn’t say was, “Before the holy fire. Before you died and I gave you part of my soul. Before I forced humanity on you.”

The lump of guilt was hard to swallow. Even harder as she stared up at Shelby knowing what she’d taken from him. What would he have become if she hadn’t interfered? Would he really have returned as his grandmother had suggested? A god walking amongst the people?

When guilt festered it became panic and dread. It turned into a monster that could consume her from the inside out. It tore at her emotions, at her peace of mind, until it resembled the holy fire inside of her.

Shelby closed some of the space between them. He stepped forward till the toes of their boots nearly kissed and all Ace could smell was his pristine soapy scent.

“Calm down,” he whispered. Both his hands rose but stopped before touching Ace, coming to instead clasp in front of him. Those full lips puckered.

Ace took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” she breathed between them.

“I know.”

She set herself with determination, turning back to face Rehan. Shelby’s heat stayed at her back, so near she could lean into him. She prayed Rehan couldn’t tell how much she wanted to. Not only did she want to lean back into him, she wanted his arms to wrap around her. She wanted his touch, so badly the guilt in her throat nearly blocked her next exhale. Ace wanted him to lean down, for his breath to tickle against her neck, as he told her it would all be fine.

“How can we help?” She turned her attention on Rehan. Fixing her gaze on the man made for her, she tried to remind herself of all the qualities she liked about him. Rehan was kind and charming. He was handsome. He was brought back for her. So why did she hesitate so much?

Perhaps she only wanted what she could not have. Shelby was forbidden fruit. Who was she to be with someone who was part god?

“Do you know how to get to the witches?” Rehan asked over her shoulder.

“Yes, I think so.”

Rehan’s bright eyes pulled back down to hers. “Our blood is more potent than theirs. We should not have need to slit our throats but merely cut our hands.”

She could do that.

“Oka—”

Footfalls sounded down the hall. The quick short steps of a light run.

The glow of holy fire filling Rehan’s palm sent Ace’s shadow sprawling out before her. Then she was moving. Chasing. Running. Feet pounding after whomever was left in this castle. The card was still clasped in her hand. The paper crumpled in her tight hold.

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