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Patrick lifted the blade. “At least now you can die together like the foolish heroes from lore.” He advanced, the Godslayer in his hand, a slight glow illuminating his skin. “It’s funny, because I always sensed the third piece nearby, wherever you were. Initially, I thought it had to be a recruit.” His stare briefly landed on Jake, who released a soft groan. I thanked the gods he lived. “While I had my suspicions about the commander, it wasn’t until the village attack that I knew for certain. Right after he burned those vile beasts alive.”
So Patrick was the one who’d attacked Jude.
I grimaced, hating myself more for allowing him beyond my walls and trusting him. Patrick had hurt Jude, had planned on killing him before he discovered he was of use. If I’d only looked beyond his exterior, I might’ve seen the clues—how he’d tried to turn me against the commander. The moments when his tone would become hard and cutting. The story of “Rosie,” the woman he supposedly cared for.
He was a master manipulator, and I’d made it far too easy for him to accomplish his goal.
A blur of limbs rammed into Patrick’s side, knocking him down with a roar.
Jake.
He rose to his feet, a nasty bruise on his cheek, one eye already swelling shut. He lurched back from the traitor, the immortal lover of the Sun Goddess, and he spit on his face.
“That was for Nic,” he said. If Patrick hadn’t cursed them all, Nic would still be alive. So many others would still be alive.
Patrick swiped at his cheek, the thick glob of spit smearing the dirt painting him. Overhead, the moon shone brighter, as if it wished to see the fight unfolding clearly. I noted how red seeped around it in a bloodied ring.
I clutched at Jude, trying to haul him up and to his feet. He groaned, but he rose with me, leaning against me for support. Whatever he’d done for me had weakened him. His body burned, his heat seeping through my shirt and causing my own flesh to tingle uncomfortably.
“That wasn’t smart,” Patrick growled at Jake, though his smirk hadn’t yet fallen. “I’ve wanted to kill you for weeks now, and you’ve just given me an excuse.”
Jake screeched as Patrick lifted a hand and clenched his fingers into a fist, his eyes aglow with foreign magic. Tendrils of steam and sparks of fire whispered around Jake’s body, and my friend slumped to the ground once more, curling into a ball as he writhed in agony.
Patrick had decades on us, years of practicing his magic. Jude only just discovered that part of himself, and healing me had nearly destroyed him.
“You were my friend,” I screamed, stealing Patrick’s attention away from Jake.
He dropped his arm, and Jake shook from the aftereffects of Patrick’s magic—or of hisstolenmagic.
“We all cared about you.” Tears dripped from my eyes and into the murky depths of the Mist. “I would’ve given my life to protect you.”
“You’re giving me your life anyway,” Patrick said coldly.
Jude lifted his head. “I will tear you limb from limb if you hurt her—”
“Yes, yes,” Patrick cut him off. “You can threaten me if it makes you feel better, but it won’t change the ending. Though I’ll kill you first and carve out Raina’s magicbeforeI kill her. It’s much harder to watch someone you care for bleeding out. Believe me, I’d know.”
And yet he’d stab Raina all over again. He only regretted failing.
The arm slung around my shoulders scorched my shirt, and the smell of burning cloth clogged my nostrils. When I hissed, Jude jerked away, realizing what he’d inadvertently done. He didn’t go far, though.
What Patrick had said, about Jude being Raina’s mortal descendant? I didn’t understand it. But the way his eyes had glowed, how hot his skin felt… Hells, how he’dhealedme, it all made some sort of screwed-up sense.
“It’s three against one, Patrick,” Jude spit out, the fearsome mask of the commander sliding back into place, despite his exhaustion. “I like those odds.”
Patrick cocked his head, and a chill went down my spine. “Who said it was only me?”
Chapter Fifty-One
Jude
Lorian, God of Beasts and Prey, is more creature than man. He roams the woods like a lone wolf, searching for a pack, for a soul that matches his own. In all his many years, he has never come across an equal, and therefore, he continues his search.
Excerpt from Asidian Lore: A Tale of the Gods
Blood-curdling howls pierced the air, the pounding of feet nearing from the distance.
“When you’re as old as I am, you never come unprepared.” Patrick waved to the tree line. “I’ll make sure your deaths are quick. Especially yours, Kiara.”
