Page 144

Papers.

Dozens of them, some crumpled at the edges, others overlapping one another as though they'd been discarded in frustration. Charcoal stained the pale sheets in dark, frantic strokes.

I stilled, a quiet horror creeping under my skin at the dark lines etched into the page.

A large throne with pulsating veins of rot spreading through it, the background shaded in black.

No, not shaded… I squinted at the page, making out the letters scribbled over top of each other.

Death.

My stomach hollowed. The door opened and I startled, the paper splitting my skin in a small, shallow cut while I hurriedly placed it back on the pile and turned just before Rythos walked in.

Was Rythos drawing the Throne of Gods?

He closed the door, clothes clutched in his hands that he extended towards me.

I walked over to him without a word, taking them from him and pulling the oversized tunic over my head and tugging the trousers on that he gave me. He wrapped a belt around my waist, stopping the trousers from slipping over my hips.

“Aldric’s,” he murmured. “I did not bring any button-downs, and I do not want you wearing Solas’s clothes.”

“Thank you,” I told him, eyes lingering a moment too long on the dark veins pulsing beneath his skin and glancing back towards the drawing of the throne.

The pattern was undeniably the same, dark veins webbing beneath his skin in the exact fractured pattern carved through the throne, like two broken things bearing the same wound.

“You must be hungry,” he said softly, handing me a wrapped pouch.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him my appetite had died with the realisation that my very soul was evil, so I pulled the fabric back.

Jerky.

The same salted meat Rythos had fed me every day when I'd first been his captive.

A fractured laugh escaped me, yet my chest tightened at the strange familiarity of it.

“The food was better in the Hells,” I challenged, tearing off a bite.

“I am sure the company was equally as dry.” His lips curved as he nodded towards the jerky in my hand.

“Actually, Helion kept me remarkably well hydrated.”

Rythos’ smile vanished. “Careful, love.”

Regret sank its teeth into me before I’d even finished chewing.

Rythos looked away, jaw tightening as though the next words were something he had been fighting against admitting even to himself. “I have wanted to kill him for a thousand years. I have imagined every possible way I could make him suffer for what he did to us.” His brow furrowed. “But now…” He shook his head. “I do not know if it is the bond you share with him. If somehow it has tangled the three of us together in ways I do not understand.” His dark gaze returned to mine. “But I do not want to kill him anymore.”

Rythos reached up and brushed a stray strand of silver hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. “You seem far too pleased about that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I said carefully.

“No.” His hand drifted lower, settling over the frantic beat of my heart.

My breath caught.

His dark eyes held mine as though he could see straight through every confusing thought I was desperately trying not to examine.

“You do not need to, love.” His thumb brushed slowly against my skin. “I can read you as easily as any map.”