A movement catches at the edge of my vision. The biggest Bron guard is hoisting something from the forward rim. Lord Wellimton. They’re giving him food and water, and he looks rather frozen, but beyond that—his mouth is moving so fast and his face so red that his temper’s clearly none the worse for wear.
Draewulf steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “It repulses you, yet given the chance you’d embrace whatever it took to live longer too.” His piercing words feel aimed at my skull. “In fact, you have. I suspect even now you can feel it. The power you took on—the way it flows in your veins—scratching and begging to make you more. To live longer. Stronger.”
Keeping my eye on the soldiers I narrow my gaze. “The power I took on was to save Eogan.”
“Careful, Nym, or your arrogance will deceive you. Because if you truly believed that, you’d have tried to die in this room two days ago when you realized Eogan was truly gone.” He unfurls from the windowpane and pads over to me, his movements much like the dog owner number ten used to own. I hated that dog.
If he notices my tightening jawline, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “When I took on this spirit, I believed it was with the intention of delivering my people from oppressive rule. It’s what I told myself for years every time I morphed. Until the day I realized what it was costing me. In that way you and I aren’t much different, you know. Except what I’ve sacrificed is more than you can imagine.”
“How pathetic then that you’ve failed. You can use the kings’ blood to become human again, but in the end it won’t save you from dying.”
He snarls and starts to reach for me but stops. He retreats and folds his arms. “True, there’s always a price. But who wouldn’t give anything for what I have—for what I am? My abilities allow me to dissolve like a spirit and invade a person’s body.” He leans in. “And what I’ve learned since then . . . well . . .” His mouth twists into a cruel smile as his gaze drops to my owner circles.
I lift a hand toward him. It won’t help you if I kill you now . . .
A challenge glints in his eye just as there’s a shout from the other room. “They’ve seen us,” the boy captain who is not Kel yells, making me hesitate at the youthfulness in his voice.
Draewulf jerks his head toward the window where the clouds have parted to reveal Faelen’s mountains to the right of us.
What’s left of Faelen’s warboat armada is on the side of the pass we’re travelling through. We’re too high to see in detail beyond movement on the decks, but with this many ships in the air, I doubt the boat captains have to guess our intention. And from the straight aim we’re flying, they’ll get it soon enough. My chest tightens for my home.
Our airships don’t even dip or shudder toward Faelen. We simply keep on course for Tulla’s cliffs looming up from the white froth waves like flat polished tombstones in front of us.
“So you will destroy everyone,” I mutter bitterly. “Is that your plan? The Tullan people? They have loved ones and children just like Bron and Faelen. And you’ll end them for what?”
“At some point you learn that the love of another is iffy at best. At worst, it will destroy what you thought you were. You should be thanking me for sparing you that discovery firsthand.”
His voice is cruel, but it’s the look on his face that grabs me. I don’t know why but it strikes something in me. Isobel’s words come back. “I will remove the thing that pains you, Father. I will make it so you won’t feel her betrayal anymore.”
I stare at the tall, snow-frosted mountain tips of the Fendres. Then glance away as a wave of confusion lashes against my ache and my anger, with the words Draewulf said earlier—that he’d originally only been trying to save his people too.
I press one palm flat against my legs as if I can force away that thought. This is different. He’s different. He’s a monster whom I’m fated to destroy.
“You could choose differently,” I say through tight teeth.
“And why would I want to do that?”
“It’s not like being evil has seemed to go well for you.”
He smirks even though his eyes are still staring out over the ships. “Evil is in the eye of the judger. What you judge as evil, I see as progress.”
“Progressive for whom?”
He waves a hand. “There’s an entire army out there—”
“Half of whom are following Eogan, not you.”
His expression darkens and he turns his face to stare directly into mine. There’s the barest hint of a shaky undercurrent as he growls, “They’re following my guidance, my planning, and my army.”
I smile. I’ve angered him. Perfect.
“But if they knew who you were?” I allow a hint of mockery in my tone. “You had to take on another man’s persona just to get others to follow, and now you’re dependent on a power you needed me to absorb. And why? Why couldn’t you get it yourself?”
“You would do well to watch your step.” His voice is shaking harder now.