For weeks his emotions had been a jumbled mess. He was on a pendulum, from tearing her to shreds and then rescuing her. At one point he bit the girl and then smiled a true smile for the first time in centuries.
That damn girl.
However the past weeks were nothing in comparison to the past twelve hours. Significant words had been said both to him and by him and each one shook him to his very core. The lion and the old man had seen something in the girl. Everyone seemed to have seen something past the spoiled cowardly princess he saw.
He did not seek out the girl, maybe he was a coward, but he needed time and all they would do was scream. He paced the fortress grounds. He could not filter the cacophony of words racing through his mind.
Hope. You just left me. let go. Ashryver. Discredit her. Love. There is nothing that I can give you. Abandoned. Thank you for saving me. Coward. Nothing I want to give you. Carranam. Destroyed. Because I made a promise. A promise to my friend that I would see her kingdom freed. Princess. You are nothing to me. Perhaps Deanna and Mala weren’t always rivals. Prince. I do not care. Because she is dead, and I am left with my worthless life! Oh, you’d better run now. Know exactly how it’s done. Assassin. Lyria. Aelin. Just live. A better world.
His body brought him to the ruins of the temple. He felt a warmth that he had not felt since the skinwalkers. He kneeled towards the sun and before he could even utter a prayer, his mind started to focus as the wind whispered, Let go.
He was so sure he knew the message Gavriel was trying to give him during the early hours of the morning, but now he questioned what Gavriel meant. Did he mean to let go of his past or his need for control? Maybe both, as they were now intertwined.
He could let go of the pain, for himself, for Lyria, for the girl, he could let go.
She's the first person to reach you, let her.
The lion was right, she had somehow reached him. If he let go, if he released the control he had, would she pull him out of the darkness? Did he deserve it? Could he live outside the darkness?
He almost laughed, the prince of ice and wind prayed to the goddess of sunlight and fire. Even in his prayers he turned to a source of light.
He would learn to let go.
If I sit in the darkness of my loss, I discredit her memory, I reject the love she gave me.
Was he disgracing the love Lyria had for him? He knew she would hate what he had become. Even with his failure, she would have never wanted this life for him. This was not even a life, this was survival.
He had spent years focused on his shame. Wanting to shoulder the pain and the scars as proof that he was paying for the sins he'd committed. In his payment he was discrediting her love of him.
No expectations, no titles, no assumptions.
All of these ideals were getting in the way. He had expectations and was disappointed every single time she failed to meet them. So he pushed her harder, pushed her down.
He grew frustrated with the princess. He expected her to behave like a princess. In the end it was only a title, not who she was. She stopped being a princess ten years ago when her kingdom fell on its knees to a bastard king.
He held back because he was bloodsworn, a commander, a prince.
The other title he feared for what it meant. His magic was attracted to that wildfire, danced in his veins every time she used it. He knew the bond they shared, but for now they didn't need it. He needed to train her before they reached that point. They needed to trust each other.
He had made assumptions about the girl, never asking her. He assumed he knew what her life had been. Never questioning what in her past inhibited her growth and fed her fears. Never questioning the scars or what hell she survived to get them.
He also needed to let go of the expectations, titles, and assumptions.
She has no hope left in her heart.
Hope. How could the girl have lost all hope? The girl was hope. For two centuries he had survived in darkness. He wandered day by day alone filling his Queen’s wishes, spinning her webs. In that time he had come across countless mortals and immortals, none had cracked through the darkness that surrounded him.
Then she came and started to cracked through his walls in a day. That was half the reason he hated her.
The little people had known, had blessed her. The old man had known and supported her. The lion had seen something as well.
Mala had guided him to her, for him to save her from a death at the hands of the skinwalkers.
And Maeve. She wanted something from the girl, needed something. Anyone aside from Lorcan could have trained the girl, why him?
Carranam. His aunt knew that they were Carranam.
If he and Lorcan could level a city, what could they do when they were magically bound?
The winds whispered, A better world.
He silently dreamed of a better world. A place where innocents did not suffer, a world where warriors like himself were not needed. He prayed to the gods that had forsaken them for a world that was not dark and cruel.
They could forge a better world. She could wield the fire of that forging. He could give her the skills necessary to forge that world.
A warmth he had never felt before flooded his body. He silently thanked the goddess, he had no doubt that the goddess had guided the words whispered to the winds.
- - - - - - -
He needed to find Luca. It was a crazy idea, but it could work. They were beyond the normal master-disciple training saga, crazy was all he had left.
The boy’s sad eyes told him enough, “Do you think she doesn't really care?”
She had saved them from the skinwalkers. She made a friend a promise and she would go to her death if it meant fulfilling it. She ensured that they burned the body of a nameless Demi-fae. She glowed at the healers compound. She broke through a barrier that scared her in the hope to learn more about the creature killing others.
“No, I think she cares too much.”
He looked at the young Demi-fae, broken and rejected because he was not what his kind viewed as pure. Rejected by his mother and her peoples because he was part monster.
Help her. If not for her sake, then at least for what she represents – what she could offer all of us, you included.
A better world, for not only him, but those like Luca. Demi-fae that bore scars, their sole sin was being conceived.
He needed to know what happened in that kitchen, what caused an old man to speak out and a boy to grieve, “What happened?”
Luca told him everything in great detail. Did he always talk this much?
You are nothing to me. I do not care.
And there it was, those words. It was then that he knew, they were of the same damaged ilk. He did this, he caused her to snap.
“How do we help her?”
“I have an idea, and you will not like it.”
He explained his idea to Luca. She had control, at least some when another life was at risk. If Luca said no, he would need another plan.
“So let me get this right, freezing me to a lake in chains is going to help her?”
“She'll need to use her powers to free you from the lake.”
“I'll help.”
He internally smiled as they gathered supplies and the boy followed him to the cave.
He no longer needed to walk the world alone. He knew he would always belong to Maeve, but he could be that catalyst the world needed. He could help the source that would light the world for a better one. He could help rebuild the world with hope instead of covering killing fields in blood. And maybe, just maybe he could be proud of the role he would play.
And if in answer, the winds around him whispered a name. Fireheart .