Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

51.

She felt ill.

She felt ill to her stomach.

Darkness pulsed beneath his eyes—in the whites of his eyes. It rippled around those golden irises.

She'd always thought Kavous' mejest was strange, had never comprehended how he could jump from one place to another. She'd failed to connect the dots, failed to see—that Kavous' mejest came too close to opening a portal.

Partially because she was a fool—a damned fool. Incapable. Blind. Unworthy.

Partially because Kavous had been her friend. He'd been her damned friend who'd laughed with her in the Stone Chamber, who'd listened to her ramble on and on. Her friend. How could she have doubted him, how could she have questioned him about things she'd thought he hadn't an inkling of?

Her heart strained viciously.

Even now she couldn't believe what she saw. This had to be another game, a ruse, a deceit—

Because ... because Kavous.

She didn't want to believe any of this. She couldn't—

"Take your time," he whispered, tilting his head. There was no humanity on his face—none. No hint of that endless amusement.

Her eyes fell shut. She felt the warmth of the tear that rolled down her cheek.

Of course the tears had to come when she wanted them the least. Of course Destiny was cruel in that aspect too.

"Get it done with," she rasped. "I'm too tired to chitchat. Do whatever you wish and get it done with."

"Oh, Indren." He ran a hand through her hair. "Lavestia has truly been harsh on you, hasn't it?"

She said nothing. Didn't move, didn't open her eyes. Didn't question.

"Surely, you have questions."

His voice sounded so human, so frank, that she almost considered the possibility that Erauth might not be so bad—that his reasons to play Kavous might align with her own reasons to play Cerys Omdrial.

And of course she had questions. She just didn't think she had enough life left to care to know the answers anymore.

Kavous—Erauth sighed, his hand still in her hair. It moved to her nape before he brutally fisted her hair. Syrene gasped. She gritted her teeth against the pain, bringing more filthy tears down her cheeks. "I do not wish to be cruel, Indren. Not with you." He sounded truly pitiful. "Let's do this the right way, shall we?"

Syrene once again called for Drothiker, but where there had been a lingering presence before, now there was nothing but the ghosts of it.

As if feeling her attempts, he said, "Oh, Felset's power shall not come to you, Syrene. Why else do you think she was so vulnerable before me?"

With each next word, his hold on her hair tightened. She could've sworn she even heard the near-rip.

"Felset said—she said you weren't coming." Syrene knew the queen hadn't lied—she'd seen the truth in the hurt in those bronze eyes. "How—"

She almost sagged in relief when his grip vanished from her hair. He smiled a Kavous smile. "Now we're talking."

He lifted to his feet, picking at his nails. "Felset was always the deceiving one." He winked at her. "After you, of course. But just like you, she values her people. You can hardly blame me for not trusting her when she asked for freedom in exchange for a portal."