And that was that. There was no hope for Euralis; she read it in his eyes. Rumpel was sacrificing his own happiness and his son’s soul for her. There were no words that could adequately express her gratefulness or even hope to do this justice. Winning had never felt more terrible.
“Send me home, Rumpel. It’s time.”
He swallowed and she sensed the words trapped on his tongue, the same ones trapped on her own. His eyes pleaded.
She glanced at her feet.
“Good-bye, Carrot,” he whispered.
He snapped his fingers, and as she hurtled through time and space, she whispered back to him, “Good-bye, my dark prince.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rumpel stared into the embers of his fire; the castle now sat in perpetual darkness. The clouds gathered with rain and lightning. He brokered no deals, even though he heard the cries of many. It no longer mattered.
In all his years, all his time in Kingdom, she’d only ever been found worthy. Euralis howled a lonely melody that reverberated through the echoing silence his keep had become.
He reeked of brandy, whiskey, whatever he could find that would burn going down. It didn’t matter so long as he could dull the pain of losing.
Losing any hope he’d had of winning back his son.
Losing the games.
His heart.
The shriveled, mangled thing that he’d thought would never love again. Wasn’t capable of it. Shayera had revived his soul and he’d let her walk away.
Sniffing, he choked down the amber liquid straight from the bottle. And then he growled, chucking it into the hearth so hard the glass shattered.
Sulfur surrounded him. “Go to her, sir.”
“Giles, leave me.” He never took his eyes off the flame as he scraped his thumb and forefinger against the bristles of his jaw. “I’m not fit company for the devil himself.”
“It’s been two weeks, sir. You broke faith—you let her leave after she played the game and won. Why did you not tell her the rest?”
“What does it matter?”
“What does it matter!” His previously complacent butler glowered. Stepping in front of Rumpel and blocking his view of the fire, he looked once again like the coldhearted mercenary he’d once been. “Because it does. Because your demone nature recognizes what you are so determined not to see. She is your mate. You will weaken, wither, and eventually die without her. The games cannot be corrupted; she was supposed to remain here. Why did you let her go?”
Giles’s chest heaved with the strain of not jumping on his master. Rumpel read it in his eyes.
“I am an old, old man, Giles. Well past ten thousand years. Can I not be allowed to choose when it’s over?”
Giles ground his square jaw from side to side. He’d not shaved in days, his eyes looked swollen, and it bothered Rumpel that his manservant was clearly so affected by what was happening to him.
“Once I’m gone, you’re a free man. Does that not excite you?” He flicked his wrist.
“I was born to guard. If not in Delerium, then this is the next best thing for me. To guard my prince and see that he is well and safe.” He slapped his fist against his palm. “You brought her here, and then you let her go. The fates are not happy with you. The only way to fix this is to bring her back.”
“That is out of the question.” He pounded his fist on the armchair. “She deserves to live.” His nostrils flared. Leaning forward, Rumpel growled. “Leave it be, Giles. This is one time you cannot sway me. Leave. It. Be.”
“Yes. Master.” Turning sharply on his heel, his man walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Which was just his way to let Rumpel know he was vexed, because none of them needed to walk. But this was one time when Rumpel would not bend. For years his selfishness had ruined others. Caratina would have been ashamed.
Euralis was his only regret.
Calling forth another bottle of anything, Rumpel sat in that chair and drank, waiting for oblivion to take him.
“Shay. Shay.” Briley crawled up onto the bed with Shayera and wiggled his way under her arm. “You are always so sad. I don’t like it.”
She tweaked his nose. In the three weeks since she’d been back, she’d begun a process of a sort of metamorphosis.
She’d gone from fury, to anger, to hurt, to finally—most vexing of all—loneliness. Here she was surrounded by the ones she loved most in all the world, but she’d never felt more apart.
“Breakfast is ready,” he whispered. “Come down this time.”
She sighed and kissed his broad forehead. “Do you know how much I love you, Briley? Always will.”
He gripped her hand. “You’re leaving us again, aren’t you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do. I’m confused.”
“Then maybe you need to talk with Godmother and Aunt and Uncle. I’m sure they’d know what to do.”