Page 71 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
And then he came to a clearing—and a cottage.
That was when he spotted Kierus coming out the cottage door, alive. Relief had flooded Tyghan’s chest, but he immediately knew that something was wrong. Kierus had an expression of panic on his face, and then someone else appeared in the doorway behind him, the Darkland monster, the terror of Elphame. He knew it was her by the descriptions he had heard. That was when Tyghan drew his sword with one hand and prepared to summon magic with the other.
Kierus, still a trusted friend as far as Tyghan knew, rushed over to him, rattling off nonsense about being in love.
And then the monster, a beauty with only a blanket draped around her, stepped out onto the porch and called,Get it over with, Kierus. We have to go.
Kierus’s voice grew louder, more earnest, angry.You have to leave. Please, Tygh. I’m going with her. Walk away like you never found me. Walk away.
Tyghan couldn’t do it. He was certain Kierus was enchanted, and Tyghan still wanted to save his best friend and take him home. Instead, they argued. Tyghan ordered him to step aside, but Kierus became a wall. He became someone else pushing back against him. And then he seemed to embrace Tyghan, pulling him close.
That was when Tyghan felt a hot sting in his side. The rough tug of a blade, one way and then another. The vicious upward lift to make sure the job was done. And then Kierus left. He walked away without looking back. The surprise hit Tyghan before the pain. But when the pain hit, he couldn’t breathe. He pulled the blade free, and clutched his side, still in disbelief. Hot blood trickled between his fingers, and his legs gave way. He dropped to his knees, his head swimming, unable to call out,Kierus, come back.
The pain overtook him then, but didn’t offer him the mercy of passing out. He writhed in the mud, wishing for death. At some point, August found him and went for help. The last thing Tyghan remembered was Dalagorn cursing as he lifted him from the mud.
The colors were all there in the painting, the dark swirl of their lives spinning out of control, a storm that could never be calmed. Even the crimson that marked the severing of their friendship. Demons would always haunt Tyghan, but another kind of demon possessed Kierus.
That day . . . it haunted me. I relived it over and over.
Forty-four times.
Tyghan finished his brew and wrestled the painting up the stairs, hiding it in his study with his other nightmares. He didn’t want Bristol to see it.
CHAPTER 52
Eris swept into Dahlia’s chambers, and after two shallow niceties, she asked, “When are you going to tell him?”
“I tried. As you know, we were interrupted and—”
“So you try again. You can’t keep putting it off.”
Eris spun, not trying to hide his frustration. “Why do you care, Dahlia? Really, I’m wondering,whydo you care? You keep everything so bottled up. Who are you to say anything to me about what I do or don’t say?”
She looked at him, her head angling slightly to the side, unaccustomed to being talked to so carelessly. “What brought all this on?”
“The wedding. When you pulled your hand away from mine.”
“Yesterday? That’s what’s consuming you? It wasn’t the time or place.”
“When Tyghan was ill this last time, you sat next to me on the couch and laid your head on my shoulder—in front of Quin and Melizan. In front of everyone. I thought that was a step, a new beginning, that we were finally moving forward in our relationship. That it meant—”
“We were in his private quarters and everything was bleak and looking hopeless. I—”
“So the only time you can publicly show me affection is when you’re feeling hopeless?” He threw his hands up. “At least I know I serve some useful purpose for you. I don’t know what your past husbands and lovers did to make you so cynical about love, Dahlia, but I am not them. If you can’t see that after eight years, maybe I am not the right man for you.”
He turned to the dresser and began opening drawers.
“What are you doing?”
“I won’t keep paying for the sins of your past lovers. We need some time apart.”
“Eris, you’re being ridiculous.”
He turned to face her again. “Really? Do you realize, you have never once told me that you love me? I love you, Dahlia, but I need more, and if you can’t give it to me, it is best to part ways now. I won’t be sleeping here anymore.” He slammed two drawers and opened a third, rummaging through it. “Whatever you’re holding on to, it’s time to let it go. If you won’t even give yourself a second chance, how can I expect one?” He slammed the third drawer and turned.
Dahlia’s eyes were stone, her lips pulled tight. “I’ve burned through too many chances, Eris. Far more than two. And now, finally . . . what you and I have is perfect. It has been for years. I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to break the magic between us.”
“Love is not magic, Dahlia. It is not a spell in one of your grimoires. I am a man, and I don’t need what’s in a book. I need what’s in your heart, but if you’d rather dwell on your past failures, so be it.” He glanced down at the belongings in his hands. “Look at this, eight years of sneaking into your room when no one’s looking, and all I have to show for it is a razor, a hairbrush, and two wrinkled shirts.” He shook his head and walked out.
