Page 44 of The Coven of Ruin
Grae stopped short of him, his brow creasing as a look of agony descended on his features. “I…” Grae’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “That’s on me,” he rasped out.
Ares ran a hand through his hair. He had known that his brother would blame himself. The archer had appeared in the mist and fired his shot a moment before Grae cut him down. “It isn’t your fault,” he assured him.
“It is,” he ground out impatiently. “But why are you just now telling us?” Betrayal lay heavily in his tone as his eyes roamed over the wound.
“I’ve accepted death. I didn’t want you to worry or try to save me.”
“You’re my brother.” Grae closed the distance between them, his gaze full of gray gales.
Ares braced himself, sliding his right foot back for a more stable stance.
“Tartarus damn you, you would have died without saying anything to us? How is that fair?” Grae shoved him, causing him to step back. “You didn’t let me fucking die. We are all we have, you bastard.” He pushed him again, his eyes filling with tears he wouldn’t shed. “I have killed you, and you would have justleft,“ he gritted out through clenched teeth. Grae swung then, clipping his jaw with a hook. He threw another punch to his ribs.
Ares took the hits, not bothering to block the punishing throws. He absorbed his brother’s pain, the hurt, the betrayal.
“Fight back,” Grae raged.
Brune stood up, his hulking form casting a shadow over them both. His dark eyes narrowed in dismay, taking in his two brothers, visibly wondering at what point he should intervene. Grae’s arm came up to throw another punch, but Ares stepped forward into it, wrapping his arms around him.
Grae tensed, every muscle shaking and taut. “I can’t—“ His voice cracked. “We are all we have.”
“Every battle we enter, we know it could be our last,” Ares murmured. “I still have life in me yet, but this is the only end for gods like us. Live by the sword, die by the sword.”
“And how long do you have?”
Ares shook his head. “I don’t know. This poison, or whatever it is, spreads more and more over time. I burned with fever just yestereve.” He loosened his grip around Grae and took a step back.
“And this light here?” Brune rumbled as he gestured to the wound, his voice a soothing balm to the room’s tension.
“The witch was here last night. She packed the wound with her magic.” Ares huffed out a breath. “She knows dark magic well.” His eyes flicked to Grae. “She couldn’t heal it completely either.” He left out her offer to do more research.
“I’m sorry for not telling you.” Ares met their eyes, first Grae’s and then Brune’s. “You deserved to know.” Placing his fist over his heart, he waited for their response.
Grae’s aura was still volatile, his jaw set, hands tightened into fists. Brune’s gaze was open as he looked from Ares to Grae, his chest moving evenly with his breaths.
“Answer me true,” Grae started darkly, “is it that you’ve accepted death, or you’veconcededto it?”
Ares stopped himself from reacting to his discernment. Had he yielded? Had he given up too soon when there could be a way where he could yet live? He smelled jasmine and knew the truth.
Grae nodded his head bitterly, sniffing. Then he turned his back on him, picked up his effects, and left the room.
Chapter XX
“Iwantdeath,butwhat is it you want?”His words had haunted Trista all the way down the tower stairs, back to her room, and into a fresh outfit for the day. She had missed breakfast, but she was so hungry that she left her room in search of food anyway. As luck would have it, Demurielle and Zyana found her halfway to the dining hall.
“You missed breakfast,” Demurielle admonished. “And you look ill. Almost… magic sick.”
“I didn’t sleep very well.” The lie came to her too easily. She hated being dishonest, especially to her friends.
Zyana was already assessing her when Trista shifted her gaze from Demurielle. The mountain witch had a way of looking at people as if she saw right through them. She gave her a small smile, and Zyana eventually smiled back.
“Well, we brought you food! Chocolate muffins,” Demurielle beamed, holding up the bundle of stolen muffins.
“Doublechocolate muffins,” Zyana corrected.
“You missed an interesting breakfast. We are going to need some time to fill you in.” Her friend looked almost mischievous. Trista was glad the darkness that had settled over Demurielle the night before had fizzled away in the light of a new day.
Demurielle and Zyana brought pillows and blankets from their rooms and took up residence in hers. They spent the entire morning constructing a fort of blankets and pillows over and around the bed.
