Page 59 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
I notice the other differences between him and his brother, aside from the hair and obvious decline in health that Locane has only just displayed. Alec’s shoulders are broader, his arms bulkier and more muscled. Even in Alec’s distressed state, he oozes vitality. His dominating presence charges the air, and I can feel his liveliness from across the room. Every inch of him sparkles with life, something that Locane is devoid of. Alec holds himself in a way that screams power, exuding a maturity and stability that Locane is severely lacking. Seeing the two in the same room, Locane’s aura is muted and smudged where Alec’s is bright and enticing, begging to envelop me.
How could I not have known?
How could I not have seen the difference, recognized the manipulation? I was manipulated so thoroughlythat I allowed someone who was not my mate to touch me in such an intimate way. A wave of guilt and shame takes me under while I look my mate in the eye and remember how I willingly let his brother touch me; how I enjoyed it; how I begged for it. I’ve committed the greatest betrayal to the person hand selected by the Fates to love me and be by my side for my entire existence. The bond of true mates surpasses any other known connection. Incredibly rare. Infinitely precious.
And I destroyed mine.
The wave hits me again, and I cry out, unable to contain the ripping at my chest any longer. It shouldn’t be possible for a single person to experience all the things I have in such a short span of time. The pressure of it all is enough to explode, and as I accept my reality, I think that I might.
At the sound of my cry, heart wrenching pain crosses Alec’s face, the devastation etched in his handsome features deepening further. That image will haunt me through to true death.
Alec turns to the guards holding Locane and says calmly, the sound of his refined accent soothing me inexplicably, “I will deal with him later.” Locane’s chains clink as he’s being ushered out of the room. Alec adds, “Use the irons now.”
Alec’s hands are clasped behind his straight back, and he stays still and silent until the door closes. It is just us and Nana now. Alec’s throat bobs before he looks at me, eyes shining, and asks, “Are you hurt?” His voice holds such gentleness and care that I can’t breathe.
I’m physically unable to answer. Instead, I hang my head and grab my forehead, trying to shield my eyes, trying to keep him from seeing what I’ve done. What I’ve ruined within myself. What I’ve ruined for us.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I cry, tremors racking through me. My frantic breaths grow ragged, verging on hyperventilation.
“Alec!” Nana yells with urgency, no doubt knowing what’s coming. She’s sitting behind me, pulling me between her knees and guiding me to the position I need to be in. She gently pushes my head down as I struggle to remember how to breathe.
I don’t hear Alec move to me, but I know he’s there when his comforting scent of worn leather and sea salt surrounds me like a protective hug. A scent so like Locane’s, yet so different. Soright.
Somehow, I manage to fix my breathing before the panic attack takes hold, a feat considering all the things warring and raging inside of me. Alec is kneeling in front of me and gently lifts my chin with his thumb and forefinger, barely a whisper of contact on my skin. He drops his hand as soon as my face is level with his. I screw my eyes shut again.
“Look at me, my clove.”
My heart plummets further with his term of endearment, but I reluctantly unpeel my eyes. He swallows a shaky breath.
“May I touch you?” Alec asks me gently. His tear rimmed eyes are pleading, telling me that he needs it.
Unthinking, I nod my head frantically, in this moment needing the comfort and safety of his embrace as badly as he needs to feel me alive against him. Nana pulls away from me right before Alec scoops me into his arms, pulling me close to him. He loosens a shuddering breath, the heaviness of his sorrow releasing with it, before he begins kissing the top of my head repeatedly and whispering to me over and over soft apologies that I do not deserve.
PART TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALEC
Madness is an affliction that has plagued many men in the Vahnsing line over the millenia.
I watched as its dark shadow claimed my father and twin in quick succession, transforming them from caring and compassionate men of reason to angry and selfish fanatics devoid of any happiness or hope. They stopped smiling and laughing. Their faces turned cold and cruel. By the time I left for the Territories, I did not know Father at all.
He had begun Locane’s poisoning long before his death. All their quiet meetings behind closed doors while we all assumed Father was investing in Locane as the future King of Quinndohs were private lessons to pass down the affliction. Father was convincing Locane that he was not meant to be king, that it was he who split from I in the womb, and that our birth order meant absolutely nothing in terms of birthright. Father taught him instead about the great destiny of the Fates that they could claim for themselves.
Father would tell us stories when we were children about the powerful gems created by the gods when they came to this world. The gems were left in hidden corners, just waiting for the right person to come forth and claim them to become a god in their own right.
And they were just that, stories.
It is unknown precisely when it stopped being a fantastical myth to Father, but the lure of god power took hold of him and festered in his mind until there was nothing else left. The frequency with which he spoke about those gems increased in tandem with his mania.
And so, madness took my father.
It was too late to stop the indoctrination of Locane by the time we realized Father’s obsession had manifested behind closed doors years before it was apparent to those around him. Locane had known for years that he would abdicate to me when the time came and never said a word. That was his first betrayal. He allowed me to move across the sea to seek my own path. I made a name for myself in the Territories as a skilled warrior and a ruthless killer. I became a mercenary after so many years of having to be the pragmatic younger brother who kept the future king grounded, yet I had no direction for myself.
I should have seen what was coming.
Even as boys, Locane had a flair for spontaneity and living uninhibited. Many have told me in the twenty-seven years since Father died that I am better suited for the role of king. No matter the truth of the statement, it did not lessen the sting and disappointment when Locane left, shirking his responsibilities to me and claiming he had to chase destiny.
