“I think I now understand what they meant. We may survive this war, but will we be able to live with the trauma we inflict during it?” It felt as if someone had punched me in the gut and then drove me to the ground, continuing to assault me. A shuddered breath pushed from my lungs, compelling me to slam the door on my emotions, staring at the man I loved.
Zyion’s head tilted, then turned as his eyes lingered on the sight of my salty tears trickling down my cheeks. “The thing about war is this: it will absolutely change you. How it changes you, though? Well, that is something only you can decide, Aria.” Pushing the back of my hand against my lips, I fought to suck in fresh air. “If you do not wish to become a monster, then why are you running toward the fight? If I ever confided what I’ve done in the queen’s name, you’d never look at me the same. Scylla might’ve removed the shackles, but her promise of freedom tastes like bitterness and ashes.”
Forcing myself to return my gaze to Knox, I watched as he strolled out of the gate, turned, raised his hand, then swiftly brought it down. The gates lowered, sealing the only entrance to the citadel closed, while also trapping Hecate inside the wrought-iron bars. My teeth clenched as Knox turned, revealing black, lifeless eyes.
“You fear becoming a monster, but here’s the truth. You need to become a monster in order to face one. There’s no middle, it’s everything or nothing. But being a monster? It’s not who you are. It’s what you eventually become when those around you continually push you away from what you desire most. I didn’t give up everything I’ve ever wanted for some dainty, little spitfire. Descensus Averno Facilis Est.”
“The descent into hell is easy?”
“As is always so, falling is the easy part. People never talk about the descent, other than to expose weaknesses. That’s why when you crawl your way back from hell, you bring all of the demons back with you. You make them yours and then send them out to show them how you rose from the fall. Ancheronta movebo.”
“I shall release hell.” I wiped the tears with the back of my hand, staring as Hecate studied Knox’s posture as he moved toward the mounts. “He’s not like others, Zyion.”
“I not only know exactly how he fights, but also how powerful Knox Karnavious is in mind, body and skill. If I didn’t think he was such a bastard, I’d tell you that you chose well when you picked him for a mate. He’s worthy of such a resilient woman, admittedly. Except, I absolutely know he’s a cruel bastard.” Bitterness seeped through his words.
“Stay far ahead of him, no matter what you hear. If he turns back or gets a hold of me, you are not to kill him. Wound him if you must, but we all walk away from this alive. I’ll accept no less.”
“Spoken like a true queen,” he acknowledged with pride.
“He’ll head north.”
Zyion examined the tree beside us that revealed the gusting wind disturbing its leaves. Facing forward once more, his head angled, scrutinizing Knox, who stood by a sizeable steed.
“Please elaborate on why you assume he’ll head north.”
“Knox is a true hunter. The wind will carry scents. It’ll make it more difficult for anyone to remain concealed if it continues. Knox hunts with the wind because he prefers not to waste time finding his prey, he’d take it down fast and easily.”
I’d noted things like that. When I was in the cage, he’d gone south with the wind. It had allowed him to expediently produce sustenance without wasting time. The time he’d hunted several animals, the wind had beaten against the eastern side, proving he’d gone east, with the wind aiding him in tracking prey.
Those memories of the little things sliced through my mind, gutting me as I stood, watching him mount the horse with fluidity, without hesitation. Knox never hesitated in anything he did. It stood to reason that even when he wasn’t in control, he’d still be efficient and steady. So then why hadn’t he returned her kiss? The stallion reared back, as if even it felt the darkness of his passenger. Knox nudged the horse with his knees, then turned it, heading north as I’d predicted.
“If you love him, don’t let him go. Ever,” Zyion’s soft words drifted to me from where he stood, forcing the reality of everything he’d lost down my throat. “True love never dies. Even if a person who once felt it, did.”
“You’d have to cut off my legs to make me stop fighting for him. I love him, and I never got to tell him how I felt about him.” That realization stung the hardest. I’d had the chance to say it to him, but I’d hesitated.
“Then after we’ve saved him? You should tell him how you feel. Tomorrows not promised. In times of war, death is waiting for us all to make one wrong move, or to have the slightest hesitation in judgement or battle. When it comes, it doesn’t hesitate like we do.”
“You are smarter than you look, Zyion.” A smile spread over my lips, even though it failed to reach my eyes.
“Pain is a lesson we never forget.” That one hurt, too. I didn’t want to learn the lessons they had educated him on.
“Too easy, Knox,” I muttered through the constricting in my throat. Spinning on my heel, I moved toward the others, who’d remained back, preventing too many scents from being carried on the breeze. “North, to the Valley of the Dead.”
“How fitting,” Soraya muttered.
“I don’t need to tell you guys that this will not go as planned. There’s no way to calculate what he’ll do once everyone’s scents surround him. My guess is that she’s allowing Knox and Lennox to combine skills, but she’s still in there, watching for any familiar interference. Knox’s only weakness is family, which he’s spent his entire life protecting from her.”
“You’re a weakness,” Killian added softly. “If I had to guess what his greatest weakness is? It would be you.” His words caused my insides to heat, even as a sad smile fluttered over my mouth. “Especially when you dress like that.” His stare dropped to where the skirt I wore clung to my hips. “You know, he’s going to see red at you wearing that outfit.”
“Let’s hope it’s once he’s in control of his own mind.”
“You’re practically naked, Aria. I can see your legs,” Eva pointed out as she slipped from the portal, grimacing at my outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“What is wrong with my legs?” The library had provided me with a razor, which I’d gladly used.
Gliding my palms against the lacey, rucked skirt. I’d matched the skirt with a vintage lace-embroidered bustier. It would make it easier to run if needed. I divided my hair and braided it into two smaller ones, then threaded them into one thick braid that hung down my back. The boots I’d pictured were Doc Martens, which were safer and less likely to slip off if I needed to run from Knox, if things didn’t pan out.