Page 83 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
Anger vibrated throughout his entire body. Graeson saw Kalisandre’s lips move, yet he couldn’t process her words. They were too quiet compared to the roaring scream ripping through his mind.
With a slimy smirk, Domitius crouched behind Graeson. The bull king hummed in satisfaction as Graeson knelt before him, unable to move. The king was barely even a yard away, yet Graeson could do nothing but stare back. Every nerve was on fire. His skin burned and thrummed. A red hue haloed his vision. His hold on the god was slipping.
If you wish us to get out of this, take control,Graeson demanded.
Do you still not understand what you are?the god asked, his tone taking on a sharp edge.
"I gave you a chance, Kalisandre. Many chances, in fact. Instead, you planned to best me. Did I not teach you anything when you were under my roof?" Domitius said, moving to stand behind him.
Rage and terror ripped through Graeson’s body at Domitius’ words.
It was afuckingtrap, and they had all fallen for it so easily.
"Did you truly think I would not see through that flimsy little proposal? You should have known better.Itaught you better. Although you always were more arrogant than your ability and knowledge deserved. But you see, you have made a grave miscalculation. I no longer need you."
A sharp pain laced Graeson’s scalp as Domitius squatted behind him and tugged Graeson’s head back. Domitius tilted his head so far back that Graeson’s neck cracked, and a wave of pain spiraled down his spine.
In the corner of his eye, Graeson saw Ellie on her knees, the guard behind her pressing the tip of his blade to her back.
"Now, let us see the true power of a god."
The command that fell from Domitius' lips next sent an icy terror running through Graeson’s body.
"Kill her."
Graeson wanted to scream as his limbs straightened. Unwillingly, he pushed himself off the floor, his legs and arms acting of their own accord as if they were not his to control. His fingers folded around the hilt of an outstretched dagger, and Domitius withdrew several steps. Fear ripped through him in an instant as he met Kalisandre’s sea-blue eyes. His breath hitched, a panicked gasp catching in his throat. A cold sweat slicked his palms, yet his grip around the dagger remained firm. His heart threatened to shatter as the frantic drumbeat threatened to burst through his ribcage.
Kalisandre was his heart, his world, his every breath. He urged himself to turn the dagger, to press it against his own chest. He would rather rip out his own heart than take hers.
The taste of bile rose in his throat, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. But he couldn’t shake the command that soaked his limbs.
The god screamed in protest, a violent roar that shook his bones. Still, Graeson’s foot moved, his knee bending as he took a step forward.
Kalisandre deserved to live. She deserved to experience a family that loved her. She deserved the world. He couldn’t take that from her. Hewouldn’t. There was no way?—
His heartbeat faltered as his feet took a step in a different direction. But the relief was fleeting because gray eyes replaced blue.
His mother blinked at him, understanding flooding her countenance.
This wasn’t…this wasn’t what he wanted either. It was too soon. They hadn’t had enough time.
Tears stung his eyes. One after another, droplets fell. The tears, cold on his skin as they rolled down his cheek and spilled onto the ground, were the only signal that some part of his mind was still connected to his body. A cruel reminder that it was trulyGraeson holding the dagger. Yet, when he looked at his mother, not a single drop of fear shone in her eyes. He briefly wondered if she believed this to be a mercy after everything she had been through while in captivity.
Graeson wanted to tell her so much at that moment. He wished he could tell her that whatever she had done, however she had aided Domitius over the years, wasn’t her fault. That he forgave her. That he wasn’t mad at her for not being there, for not being able to see him grow up. He wished he could relay everything he had done in his life, how he had never stopped thinking about her, never stopped loving her.
But more than anything, Graeson wished he could drop the blade.
He attempted to loosen his grip; he tried to peel his fingers from the hilt. But no matter how much he strained or how much his blood vessels threatened to pop from the pressure, his fingers remained glued to the leather wrapping.
He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be parted from his mother so quickly.
"Do not be afraid," Lysanthia whispered.
Afraid?He was absolutely fucking terrified.
Graeson had taken so many lives—too many to count at this point. It never got easier. Even when the god was in control, Graeson felt the weight of every soul pressing down on his shoulders, weighing him down with every step he took. He did not wish for her to be another name added to that long list.
This was not how it was supposed to be.
