Page 154 of Shattered Jewel
Wilder runs his free hand over his stubble-covered jawline. “This is what I was born to do. It’s what you were born to do.”
A smirk tugs at my lips, the taste of the High Sovereign’s defeat still fresh.
“Fulfilling our bloody destinies?” I muse.
“But what now?” Wilder becomes engrossed in cleaning the blood caked under his nails. “With the Sovereigns gone and us holding the reins…”
I consider this while swirling the amber liquid in my glass. We’d spent so much of our lives, sacrificed so much, only to unseat monsters just to become them ourselves. The irony isn’t lost on me, but neither is the opportunity.
“No more Sovereigns,” I declare firmly.
“Won’t that be a bit like letting a dog off its leash?” Wilder’s brows come together in contemplation. He carefully rests his back against the couch, grunting through stiffness and the residual ache of Rossi’s stinging disinfecting techniques.
“Not if we change its nature.” I propose, staring into the dancing flames inside the fireplace.
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“We remake it.” I sense Wilder’s gaze on me, but keep my own locked onto the mesmerizing swirls of orange and blue. “Reforge it into something harder, leaner, than those depraved Sovereigns could have ever conceived.”
“You sound awfully sure that turning boys into swords will end any differently this time.”
I tilt my head in minute acknowledgment.
“I’m counting on it not ending the same. That’s the whole point.”
Wilder barks a harsh laugh. “Isn’t it, though? Years of the Sovereigns breaking us down, remaking us in their grotesque image ... and for what? So we could put our own fresh brand on the stock?”
“Have you already forgotten the first obligation we owe?” My voice is pitched low, gravitational. “We control the herd, not slaughter it remorselessly.”
That seems to give Wilder pause.
“You expect we can just … temper ourselves?” Wilder scoffs. “After all the depravities the Sovereigns slashed into our bodies?”
I lean back in my seat. “We have Elara now.”
Wilder stiffens, eyes narrowing. “Elara is not a tool to repurpose our darkness, Cav.”
“No,” I agree, shifting my gaze from the fire to him. “But she reminds us of what we are underneath all these layers of blood and grime. Men with hearts that still beat for something other than violence.”
She is the end of my curse.
Wilder takes a long drink, eyes never leaving mine. “She’s our saving grace, then?”
“She’s our hope,” I correct him quietly.
Wilder’s gaze turns distant then. An emotion flickers in his eyes before disappearing as swiftly as it came—regret maybe? Guilt? Remorse? No doubt thinking about Teagan, his lost love who fell prey to this savage competition we’re all caught up in.
“Do you think…” Wilder trails off.
“We’ll make it right,” I assure him before finishing my drink in one swift gulp. “Part of that means swearing our devotion to her, vowing our protection. Nothing will happen to her with the four of us surrounding her, Wild.”
His rugged features soften, the tension along his jaw easing slightly.
“Thank you, Cav,” he grinds out, his voice low and gruff. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Before I can lighten the moment, the door swings open and Elara walks in, the soft glow of the fire casting a warm shimmer across her face. Her approach brings a halt to our argument, capturing our undivided attention as we both straighten up, instinctively trying to diminish the effects of our recent injuries.
“What are you two arguing about now?” she asks playfully, taking a seat beside Wilder.