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I float on an island in my mind, shrinking into myself. I cannot escape. I cannot get out, so I go in.
Even now, I cannot bring myself to hate him. I hate his actions. I hate that poisoned heart inside him that has vanquished me. I hate the Dragon and vampire of his past that has become his present. But I willalwayslove Neo. My Neo.
While Quillion carries me out of the Court, out of the Tower itself into the ashy air and to the border, I know I will not rise from this. There is no more lovely, dark, and deep.
All that is left is Destruction.
Chapter27
“I’ll get your soul.”
“Princess…” Quillion persists in calling me the title. I am a broken princess now. Just as the Prince had declared: the princess of a fallen kingdom he destroyed. I don’t ask how Quillion managed to secure the coach to carry us to the border. Perhaps because he still bears the seal of the bishop on his wrist. Can I have any hope with how Neo has not yet removed it?
“Tell them to take the high road,” I urge Quillion, knowing who I must go to, though I said I’d never return. I’d say he owes me more than ever now.
“What are you doing?” Quillion wonders as I stare at the ascending road flanked by those familiar iron trees and deeper layers of ash.
“Just visiting an old friend. Need to be more isolated when I do. Will you wait for me, Quill?”
He presses a hand to his tunic. “On my honor.”
“Always…” I somehow manage a soft smile but end up thumbing my wrist. I should not miss the horned crown mark that symbolized me as a bride according to the Court. All I have left now is the Grail ring, Neo’s soul, hanging upon my chest. For once, it feels colder than the tip of an icicle, as if ready to pierce my flesh. All of me feels cold, forsaken by Neo’s warm flames that caressed my flesh likeScheherazademusical notes only a couple nights ago.
I suppose this is my distress signal, I consider when I venture up the path to the lookout overseeing the Tenth Court and Court O’ Nines castles. The irony: now, I must seek the vampire Reaper who wants to destroy my soul so he may live again—all to reclaim his Dragon twin brother who has already destroyed my…no, I can’t bring myself to say heart. I am a broken princess but not a broken Halo-bearer. I. Elysia. Rose. Am. Not. Broken.
But I still break down. In the deep ash between those iron trees, I fall to my knees, bury my head in my hands, and cry for all I have lost. My homeland in ashes and ruin, my father dead, my mother a prisoner thanks to the triumvirate deal I agreed to, my trauma unveiled before Death himself…and what was it all for? I am suffering and bleeding…aching and burning!
Breath ragged, I muster the strength to get up, to rise from this ash clinging to my Court gown. I cough from the ember flecks invading my nostrils and throat, overheating my veins in a hellish plague.
Finally, I make it to the overlook and stare down at the nine castles surrounding the mega-towers, the Tenth Court, and consider those blood falls feeding the canals. How I ever believed I could conquer this vast empire!
Truth and honor are all I have. I cling to those marks on my soul—invisible marks upon my skin of a hundred invisible bites…and one. Deep down, I still remember that night and desire his fangs in my flesh again as our bodies and hearts married with the promise of those souls in the grotto. This time, it does not feel serendipitous when I cry myNoralice!
When I pass through the veils of reality, its first layer cradles my physical self. My soul is dimmer. No frost gown clothes me. No echoes of Court finery to eclipse myfadingglow. Only Thanatos’ arms catch me before he drapes my naked soul in his Reaper robe and cups my face with his unfeeling hands, capturing my teardrops and turning them into tiny rosebuds.
“Elysia…”
I burrow myself into him like he is a shrine, like he is a sepulcher, like he is my…tomb of the potpourri potion of dead roses. I kiss him, angling my neck so I may dig in deep because I cannot escape, nor could I ever hope to run from Death. The kiss is not punishing. Death’s hair is cold black silk falling around my face as he leans in, uniting with the kiss I’ve initiated, one I know he can feel all the way down to his…does Death truly have a soul? What had he said? He wears all the souls of the centuries, and he can choose any of them. Does he hold so many there is nothing left of his?
As soon as Thanatos brushes his tongue into my mouth, stirring me with a prick of frost into my depths, I break away from him to ask in a whisper-gasp, “Did you see? Do you know?”
Nodding, Thanatos peels the robe away just a little so he may pacify my spine with that frost, but it doesn’t seem to help. Nothing helps.
“How?” I demand. “How have you known when I come through the Soul Plane? How did you know about my past—about the conversations Neo and I have shared—abouteverything?”
Thanatos sighs, dipping his head low, those fingers lingering at the center of my back, part of his arm overlapping my curls. “Not everything. But you hold his soul, Elysia. A soul that was bound to mine for centuries. Whenever you come to the Soul Plane, I receive some shared memories.”
I press my lips together, almost ready to shove him away, to unleash my Halo light in the desolation of his soul-tower. Not yet, I hold myself back because there’s more I need to release.
“You said it would happen! Back in the tower, you predicted it!” I scream, pounding my fist against his chest, marveling at how he doesn’t grip my wrist, doesn’t stop me. “You said he was playing with me. That I was just his pawn. That I was a game to him and that he would destroy me.”
“Yes, this is Destruction,” Thanatos murmurs against my neck, fingers continuing their course up to his sickle mark. “He is a Warhammer, Elysia. That is his design. Neoptolemus does not know how to be anything different. His words are a weapon. His body is a weapon. Even his love is a weapon. He builds you up and raises you higher just so he can destroy you.”
“Not my Neo.” Not myNew, I almost say, balling my hands into fists.
“No, not your Neo. That imposter is not Neo, my love.”
“Stop!” I cry and rake my nails into his neck, wondering if he can feel it…when I draw his soul blood. “I am notyourlove!” For the first time, the gold in his eyes fades to those pupils dilating. I battle a soul-deep shiver.
