Fuck him. Fuck the king and all his lies and manipulation and all those years Destonnestolefrom him.
He wanted to take a knife and carve the pactum from his skin, but he couldn’t escape this. Destonne had dangled everything Vesper ever wanted in front of him. Made him choose. And, like an imbecile, Vesper had let him win. Had given in so fuckingeasily.
He had told himself it would be simple: bring Emmery to safety, use her for Izzy’s spell, and then hand her over. He’d somehow convinced himself in his pea-sized, prick of a brain that betraying Emmery was a fair price to pay for everything he ever wanted. That she deserved it after what she’d done.
He was so bloody wrong.
They’d spent all that time apart, her memories erased, and yet the glimmer of the girl he once knew haunted him each time their eyes met.
And he fuckinghatedit. Hated the throb in his chest that wouldn’t ebb. Wouldn’t stop breaking.
His father was right.
He was weak.
Vesper shrank away from the shattered mirrors and turned to the obsidian monstrosity of a throne. It berated him in a voice echoing his father’s.
This will be yours once I’m gone.
As if he’d asked for any of this. Ellynne belonged to Izzy, not him.
Be better, Vesper. Be the man I’m proud to call my son.
He never would be and it was too late now.
Since childhood, the world had splintered around him. The problems were bigger than him. Bigger thanallof them. Their roots ran deeper than the Trees of Eternal Blood. His father had been the first Hollow King in history, and hestillcouldn’t liberate them. Now only Vesper remained to save them from Destonne’s tyrant rule.
His head swam, maybe from the drinks or his empty stomach. When did he last eat, or rather, when was he last hungry? He couldn’t remember. Food tasted like soot now, and he’d been on a liquid diet of sorts.
He meandered to the last untouched mirror. His father had always cherished these bloody things, meant to symbolize the mirrored part of thesoul. A talking piece for entertaining company. Every time Vesper looked into them, he only thought of his father, and how fuckingdisappointedhe would be. Because if they reflected Vesper’s soul now, it would be a shrivelled pile of Hollowhound shit.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. He needed to pull himself together. Emmery would likely never forgive him for what he did, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch over her. He’d figure out a way to get her back, sort through all of this prophecy nonsense, and make this up to her somehow.
With a sharp whistle through his teeth, Vesper summoned Quill. The raven, all shiny black wings and glossy feathers, emerged out of swirling black wisps then perched on Vesper’s outstretched arm. Four purple eyes brimmed with questions.
“I’m fine,” Vesper said, but his voice quivered like the pluck of a guitar string.
The raven nipped at the air in disbelief.
“Really, Quill, I’m fine. It’s fine.” After he eased his tension through a long breath, he asked, “Can you make sure Emmery’s safe for me?”
The raven studied him like he inspected each thread of Vesper’s soul and picked him raw. This unexplained connection had always existed between them, ever since the day Quill found him in the woods outside Castle Dusk. When he’d embedded himself under Vesper’s skin. The sneaky, avian bastard.
Seemingly satisfied with whatever he’d seen, the raven took flight. Quill echoed the request in a perfect mimic of Vesper’s voice, then sang a playful chirp of an old tune. The song lived in Vesper’s heart, like his mother sang it to him and Izzy in the womb, but he rarely hummed it. Mostly because it only made him sad. Nostalgic.
Then Quill melded into the air as if he’d never appeared in the shattered throne room at all.
Left to the tangle of his own thoughts, Vesper studied the bloody scraps of skin and exposed tendons in his hands. The effects of his drink dwindled by the second, and his pain began to surface like wine soaking through rags. But he didn’t retreat from it. He welcomed it by clenching his fists until the bones of his knuckles punched through.
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Briar’s gasp before she hissed, “What in Deimos’s name did you do? You're lucky it’s me and not Marlys. She’d have your head.” Briar scoffed in distaste. “There’s glasseverywhere.”
Her heavy booted footsteps echoed off the throne room walls, now spiderwebbed in broken glass. Briar rounded him then froze, her face hard as stone until she met his eyes. That vein that always scared the shit out of him pulsed in her forehead, but he must have looked like he’d been dragged through the deepest pit of the Hollow because pity replaced her anger.
Vesper tore his gaze away and stared at the floor, not ready to face her, or anyone else, for that matter.
Briar crouched, careful of the glass shards, and slipped her red-tipped fingers under his. “Merciful Deimos—yourhands, Ves.”
The touch made his eyes burn, and he sucked air through his teeth. White speckled his vision as she bent his fingers, testing each one like she enjoyed his pain just a little.