Page 193 of The King is Dead
Instinctively I reached for her arm, to catch her, to keep her on her feet. But she saw me move, and those catlike reflexes of hers kicked in.
She twisted, caught her weight with her fingertips on the dirt, then pushed upright like a racer, shaking her head… And sprinted away without another word.
Every fucking drop of blood in my veins sucked to the surface of my skin, screaming at me to go after her.
I almost vomited with the struggle to resist. My entire body shook.
What had she done to me? What thefuckhad she done to me? Some dark magik that only the cursed Fetches knew about?
Swallowing nausea and trying to silence the screaming in my head, I forced myself to turn in the opposite direction, to stomp back to that outcropping of rock.
On the way I passed a fallen warrior with an iron shield polished to a mirror finish where it wasn’t etched by weapons
I swept it up as I passed, carrying it with me until I was at the base of those rocks and out of sight of anyone on the battlefield.
Then I lifted the shield, turning until the light of the rising sun bathed my face and made my reflection clear.
I peered closer and closer, muttering curses under my breath when the surface refused to give up what I needed.
A hint of green in my eyes. Even afleckand I would tear after her, roaring, force her to see it, pin her to the ground and shake her until she opened her eyes andsaw.
But I couldn’t… there was nothing…
The more I stared, the more I saw myself—jaw stubbled after days without shaving. A smear of blood on my temple. Hair sticking out in every direction. Lines in my face from weariness. Dark bruises under my eyes that only made the truth clearer…
My eyes glowed gold. The pure, pale gold they had always been.
Jannus the Halfling. The only male born to the line of pure, Nephilim ancestors.
Thecursedbloodline.
Each generation dying young, despite their strength and vigor. No male in the line living long enough to see his child reach maturity.
Jannus. The Halfling. Who only lived because he had not yet sired a son.
The dead man walking.
And… the only male who willingly resisted the Fallen… but could not be redeemed?
The thought rang in my head like a gong.
Swallowing back the bile that wanted to rise, I threw the shield to the dirt and stormed away, up to the top of the outcropping to watch the battlefield below, and honor my King. Makecertainno one was being left to betray him from that crowd of rebels below.
Because that was my job.
The rest… the rest was a puzzle for another day. I pushed it from my mind and cursed the woman who’d forced me to confront it.
Cursed the day she walked into my life.
And prayed that God would offer me a chance to fulfill my debt quickly so I’d never have to speak with her again.
That is…
Did God hear the prayers of an irredeemable soul?
EPILOGUE
~ GALL ~
