Rather than scream her frustrations, she took a long hot bath, and prayed it would wash away all this heaviness. After what they’d been through and magic she’d expelled, her vestige remained thinned, but she couldn’t rest. Her eyes remained trained on that damn door.
It felt as if the labyrinth had shattered everything inside her, set her ribs crooked, and warped her calloused heart into a misshapen, smothered thing. And yet, there it was, still beating.
After pacing and waiting and nearly going out of her mind, she wandered downstairs in search of Dez, like he could soothe her brokenness.
Following the sound of soft piano, she descended the stairs and crossed the lobby to a tiny room, its dark circular tables and chairs bathed in supple red light. A rich, matte brown pianoforte with wings, stars, and beasts carved into the wood like those in Deimos’s mausoleum, encompassed a low stage.
And perched on the piano bench sat Destonne.
He toyed with the keys, as if he couldn’t decide how to manipulate them. He started with a high note that tumbled into a somber melody, and as he plucked at random notes, he appeared lost.
But then he straightened his spine and really started to play.
Emmery closed her eyes as the song settled into her chest, filling her with a melody she knew. The same song Vesper hummed, likely one allKennaheard, and mothers sang their babes so it lived inside their children too. Some inkling told her it mirrored the Ballad of Beginnings.
When the song came to an end, Dez patted the spot on the bench beside him, but didn’t look up from the keys, as if he’dknown she lingered there the whole time. Sheepishly, Emmery padded over and sat, not sure what to say, though a million questions waited on the tip of her tongue.
Luckily, he burst that bloated silence. “My mum taught me to play as a child, and I learned more at the boarding school I attended.” His fingers caressed the keys as if they whispered to him. “I haven’t played in a very long time. I’m a tad rusty.”
Rusty? Emmery nearly snorted. “You’re very talented, but I shouldn't be surprised. You’re good at everything.”
He gave her a tiny smile, the kind one painted on to convince others not to worry, but his red rimmed eyes, pinked nose, and creased brow did little to assure her. She wanted to comfort him, smooth her thumb over his pain and wipe it away. To assure him everything would be alright and she understood the aching loss of a loved one. Since her family had left her too, she recognized his roaring loneliness.
Her silence seemed to spur something in him, and he continued, “I’m ready to tell you another truth. It may not be one you want to hear, and you may not care, but I need to say it.” His gaze slid to her. “Will you listen?”
Emmery’s brows drew together. Did he truly think she wouldn’t care? That she would cast away his honest and raw truth like rubbish? She didn’t trust herself to speak and risk ruining this fragile moment, so she nodded.
“You likely already figured it out, but I’m not Asaella’s true heir. I was conceived outside of a marriage bond. An accident. A mistake. But because my father had difficulty producing an heir, he kept me as a backup plan to continue his legacy. But he always looked at me with such …loathingin his eyes. Like deep down he truly hated me and it lingered like a knife at my throat as I walked through life.
“But when my brother was born, his plans changed and he had no use for me anymore. So he sent me away, for longer periodseach time, until I had no return date. And the relationship between him and my mum was complicated,to say the least.” His fingers glided along the keys, and the room swam in that beautiful melody once again.
“She was Hollow and he was Fallen, and as the gods would have it with their twisted and sadistic ways, they shared animplexusbond. The gods had tied them and then forbid them to be together. And, despite everything, I think my mum truly loved him. She had to. Because she kept going back to him. Over and over.”
He winced in disgust. “Even when he took a wife. Even when he conceived my brother. Even when he slit her throat and let her bleed for whatever reason he concocted in his mind. Because there is nothing, absolutelynothing, that weakens a strong spirit, more than animplexusbond. Or bonds of any kind, really. They’re shackles. Leashes. Nooses. And I watched my mother wither away, and hand him her life, as if it never belonged to her.”
A long pause spread between them. Emmery’s head swam with the details, but things slotted into place, and filled the cracks of his identity, opinions, and actions.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She wanted to reach for him, comfort him, but his rigid posture gave her pause.
“It’s done,” he said, his words cold. “It’s all done. And there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
Was that why he sneered at her bond with Shade? After what his mum endured, it would give him reason. And she dared ask, “Don’t you have mandatory allegiance bonds with those in your service?”
Destonne shook his head slowly. “I know what it's like to have your freedom and choices stolen. I don’t wish it on others and don’t require it.”
As she studied his damp clothes, blood dappled face and chest, and last the crown, her stomach knotted. Brennen’s story flooded back and the origin of all this struck her.Control. “Did your father … did he—” She couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t shake that sadistic idea from her head, but she needed to know. “Dez, tell me what the crown does.”
His stiff shoulders turned to stone, and his fingers stilled on the keys as a heavy silence blanketed the room. “I think you already know.”
“Tell me,” she said softly. She shifted closer and watched his stoney exterior crack, then crumble. “Please tell me. Trust me with this.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened to obsidian steel. “We made a deal. He offered it as acceptance. As love. And I was so starved, so absolutely and pathetically desperate for him to want me—I took it.” His voice shook as if his heart shattered with each syllable. “And he made me his monster.”
Emmery’s world split as everything inside her tore in two. Every belief, every conviction, every shard of blame and self-hatred she’d placed on him, severed. As he turned to her, his deepest secret laid bare, her torn world, the one she’d thought unmendable, stitched with his. Because she too had been used and hurt and sold all the pieces inside her for love.
“He told me I was weak. That the crown would cure the softness my mum cultivated inside me. Like it was some illness.”
“Dez—” she started but didn’t know where his name led. Couldn’t see the light or the path or how to make any of this better. “I—I don’t know how the enchantments work, but if he’s gone, shouldn’t the curse be gone too?”