Shadows and Steel | ✓

chapter fifty

-50-

Cerid's misty eyes were clouded with concentration. He calculated every move Tristan made in his frustration. His heeled boot shone in the light as it came down on Tristan's bleeding head. Perfect for dancing and knocking out traitorous agents. Tristan fell forward like a dead weight, Kath leaping to soften his fall before he smashed his face in.

The Heir ran.

Kath shot Elle a fearful look. "Go!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Elle just had to hope that something would hold him up before Cerid could make his escape. Darting through hallways, the paintings passed in a blur. Her single heel clacked against the stone. But she kept his barrelling figure within her sights.

Would he stop if she called for him?

He was heading toward the lift. Elle noticed about the same time he did that the rope was surprisingly slack. The lift had been cut. Cerid knew it too as he stepped away from the ledge and faced her. It felt like a hard blow to the gut. It was his eyes. Gods, his eyes. Brimming with grief and worse—betrayal.

"This was it, Vhiena? Your plan all along?" He swept his arms out, forcing a bitter laugh. She didn't fail to notice how his voice broke at the end of his sentence.

"No! It wasn't like that. It just got out of control!"

"Out of control?" Cerid seethed, jabbing a finger to punctuate every word. "You're a traitor." He couldn't believe the words himself.

"I didn't know that you were the Imperial Heir, you have to trust me!" Elle's voice was thick. Cerid shook his head a few times, stepping back. "No, no, no. You can't ask for my trust. You don't deserve my trust."

"Cerid, I—"

"Don't say my name." His cold tone sent a shiver down her spine. Elle's heart hurt as if it had just plunged down into the Vault to a screeching death. "All those times I shared my dreams with you. The library, our training, the dance. It was all one big trick."

"I swear to you it wasn't," she whispered. "That was real."

"Real enough for you to still kill me in the end." His hoarse voice cut between them like a blunt knife, leaving the air in tatters and ribbons. "I trusted you. I loved you!"

The words rang out. Cerid loved her. Not anymore. Emptiness pounded through her veins. A shocking sadness that made her so, so ashamed. Guilt. By far, that was the scariest feeling of them all.

Elle didn't try to stop him as he launched forwards, sending a mighty kick to her abdomen. She had never seen rage quite like it. Her breath whooped out of her as she slammed backwards, her ribs creaking like a breaking ship. He was on top of her, pinning her limbs, prying Ravaryn from her fingers.

Her heart hammered so fast she could taste it.

"Give it back!" Nails scratched down his perfect face. How she regretted filing them to smoother curves just before the dance. Now all she was left with were useless stubs. Cerid swatted her hands away. He could plunge Ravaryn into her chest and be done with it.

But he didn't take her life. Not there. Instead, Elle could only watch on in horror as his wrist flicked. The dagger was sent skidding across the stone and then tipped, painfully slow, over the edge. Ravaryn, her beautiful blade, plummeted off the lip into the Vault.

Something broke inside her and she had a feeling someone across Saryn felt the same acute pain.

Elle did the only thing that came to mind. She bit him. Hard. He jerked his hand back. She scrambled to her feet, her ribcage wracked shooting pains throughout her frame. Elle ducked the blade swinging at her head. His wide slice caught the end of her locks. She watched clumps of strands fall between them.