His eyes flaring at those words, Shadow swirled past them to Brogan and lightly touched her cheek.
No sooner did he withdraw his hand than her eyes fluttered open. Lost in their grief, neither Blaise nor Brandor saw it at first.
Not until Brogan pulled her hand from her brother’s grasp and sank it deep into Blaise’s pale hair. “They can take me by force and break every bone I have, but only you will ever have my heart, Blaise. For it alone is mine to give.”
Laughing and crying, he pulled her to his lips so that he could kiss her.
Brandor quickly withdrew from them. And though it was obvious he didn’t like to see his sister in the arms of another man, he didn’t say a word as he moved to stand beside Medea. Facing the opposite direction.
Like Urian.
Snorting at their ridiculous actions, Medea wiped at her eyes. She drew a ragged, grateful breath.
Urian glanced at her with Falcyn, then over to Brandor. “Don’t we feel like the odd ones out?”
Shadow manifested between them and draped his arms around their shoulders. “I feel your pain, my brothers. I’m always the oddest of the odd.” He darted his gaze around them. “So which of you assholes destroyed my rope?”
Medea let out a half laugh. “That’s your concern? Seriously?”
“I like my rope. Comes in handy for all kinds of things. And we still need to get the whole lot of you out of here. Mairee is only one of a number of treacherous bitches who can summon all manner of hell down upon us.”
That made her think of something else, other than their near miss. “She called you the prince of shadows. Why?”
He let out a long sigh. “This dimension is its own world. With its own predators. Its own rules. And as with all things in the shadow realm, the title is both one of respect and one of shame. Neither all good nor all bad. Always something between.”
She didn’t understand. “How so?”
“Because I reign here as the supreme badass, and at the same time, it’s a reminder that my mother abandoned me to the beasts who used to rule this land when I was a child, to be preyed upon.” He cut a sinister glare to Falcyn. “You had your sister and brothers to rely on. I had no one. My brothers don’t even know I exist. What actions I took during the Primus Bellum to survive, I took to protect the only family I’ve ever known. And instead of protecting me for my loyalty, they stripped my powers and sent me back here, where it took me a thousand years to regain all I’d lost in the blink of an eye. You judge me when you know nothing of who I am or what I’ve been through. And you know even less about Jared. Instead of holding grudges for what you think happened, maybe you should spend five minutes learning the truth. Open your eyes and engage the brain the gods gave you for something other than watching porn and jumping to conclusions that even a three-year-old would see were stupid lies.”
With those bitter words spoken, he turned and lifted his cowl to cover his head. His charcoal-gray armor clanked in the darkness as he strode with his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Follow me or don’t, it’s entirely up to you. But unless you wish to build home property in this hellhole, I suggest you pick up the pace.”
Falcyn fell silent as he watched Shadow moving ahead. He went to help Brogan and Blaise so that they could all follow after Shadow.
Urian and Brandor remained quietly behind them.
Medea took Falcyn’s arm. “Okay, I get that, like you, he’s older than shit and fought in the Primus Bellum. Whose side was he on?”
“His own. He started out with the demons, fighting for Noir and the Mavromino. For reasons unknown, he switched to fight with the Kalosum … until he helped Jared slaughter his army for Noir.”
“And no one knows why?”
Falcyn jerked his chin at Shadow as those words haunted him and he tried to understand them. Nothing in that war had been simple. Even less had made sense. Especially not the sides they’d each chosen to fight for. Or the reasons why. “I’m sure he knows his reasoning. Jared might know it, too.”
And yet as they walked, details of the past played through his mind. Things he’d forgotten completely.
Or perhaps the correct reality was that he’d chosen to bury them more than simply forget about them.
Shadow had come in early to speak to Caleb, who had led one of their largest bands of demons against the Mavromino. Falcyn and Adidiron, one of their Arel commanders, had stumbled into that meeting quite by accident.
To this day, he could see the sneer on Shadow’s face as he raked a cold look over Adidiron’s body, taking in his golden armor and wings.
“Watch your back, Caleb. Those who profess good too often practice evil in its name.”
“Why are you here?” Adidiron wore the same expression as someone who’d just stepped in a flaming pile of horseshit.
“Slumming.” Shadow stood slowly.
Adidiron rolled his eyes. “Go back to the whore shadows where you belong.”
Shadow had shaken his head. “Careful, Arel. Lest you learn one lesson too late.”
“And that is?”
“We are never punished for the sins we commit. Rather we are punished by them.”
Those wise words haunted Falcyn to this day. They’d never been far from his mind.
But then what had been his sin where Maddor was concerned? Seeking love? That was the only reason he’d allowed Igraine to lie and seduce him. He’d been so desperate for a kind touch that he’d ignored all common sense and reason.
And what of Medea? Her sin had been in trusting humans not to harm her child and husband.
Were those sins so great that they had to spend the rest of eternity paying for them? Seriously?
No one should have to bleed to the bone for loving or trusting another.
“Where are you, dragonfly?” Medea’s voice brought him back from the darkness of his thoughts.
Lost and cornered. At least that was what it felt like.
Still, he refused to let her know that. “I’m here.”
“You say that, but I can see in your eyes that you’re off somewhere else.”
He would tell her that he was thinking of the future. Yet why bother? He didn’t believe in a future. Didn’t believe in anything at this point. Other than misery and hell.
Betrayal. That was what the world had taught him.
Just how black the souls of the rest really were. And how often others condemned innocent people for their own misdeeds and rotten acts they couldn’t stand about themselves. Because it was easier to see them in someone else and hate them for it than it was to hate yourself and go to the effort of trying to fix it. After all, people were less likely to see it in you if their attention was being diverted by the guilty pointing the finger of distraction toward those who couldn’t defend themselves because they were innocent and couldn’t even contemplate the sins being cast upon them.
Sick, really.
But luckily, he was spared having to answer as Shadow slowed down. “We’re here.”