Chapter Text
~x~
“Sarcean. I remember everything.”
That name—not his—spilling over James’ lips was like a punch to the gut. Will felt his stomach turn over once more, the forest floor rocking beneath his feet. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t—
“Sarcean?”
“That’s not my name,” the words came out as a guttural growl, and Will saw James’ mouth snap shut. The hurt that flashed across his blue gaze was its own torture, the Collar’s power pulsing between them like a live wire.
“Will,” James said, soft and achingly earnest.
Will shook his head, overwhelmed by the devastation that lay at his feet. Everything was starting to blur around the edges. Everything he’d fought so hard to stop, both inside himself and against Sinclair had been for nothing. He’d thought he could outrun the past—that he could outrun himself. Yet here he was, on the precipice of a closed circle between the Dark King’s world and his own.
“We have to move,” James said. “I couldn’t get us far. They’ll be coming after you.”
James stepped toward him, and Will reacted like a man burned. He careened back only to find his spine slamming against a tree, knocking what little breath he had left out of his lungs. James continued towards him, with the graceful, decisive steps of a predator. His shirt still hung open where Will had pushed it aside, his skin smooth as alabaster in the afternoon sun. The Collar perched demurely atop his collarbone, a sparkling gash of grandeur proclaiming him as Sarcean’s prize. Will’s eyes locked on it, and try as he might, he couldn’t clamp down on the thrill that went through him to see James wear it.
Mine.
Will physically shook the thought from his head. “Stop.”
James did.
They were both breathing shallowly, the air between them impossibly thick.
“Will—”
“I just need a moment to think.”
“Let’s get somewhere safe. You can think after,” James said.
Mine.
A shudder ran down Will’s spine. “I can’t,” he said. “If you touch me again…I—I don’t think I can…”
James’ brows furrowed. “What are you so scared of?”
Will swallowed, the truth like a tangible knot in his throat. “That you’re not yourself.”
James smiled then, soft and knowing. His hand reached up to trail along the golden curve of the collar, his elegant fingers skimming over the metal in a whispering touch that Will swore he could feel against his own throat. “I’m perhaps more myself now than I’ve ever been.” James’ eyes bore into his own. “I remember everything…but you don’t, do you.”
Will didn’t know how to answer. He’d had dreams—visions of the past—but they’d never felt like memories. Not exactly. “I’m not him,” was all Will could reply.
“Not yet.”
“James…” Will said his name like he was drowning in it. And maybe he was.
A warm tendril of magic ghosted against Will’s cheek. James couldn’t move his body closer, but his magic seemed unquelled by Will’s previous command. “Please, Will…come with me. Let me show you.”
Helpless, Will’s eyes fluttered shut. He might be the Dark King returned, and allegedly one of the most dangerous magical forces in the world, but he was powerless against this. He wanted it too badly. He was so alone…he’d always been so alone…
“Will.”
Will’s body thrummed like a struck chord at the sound of his name spilling over Jame’s lips.
Mine.
Will opened his eyes and found himself lost. “Take me.”
~x~
They managed to locate a couple of loose horses that had escaped in the chaos of the evacuation. Will mounted his horse, a bay warmblood, and felt his heart yearn for the steadfast sturdiness of his black gelding. James mounted his own chestnut mare, his mouth set with a grim determination.
“We need to get back to the gate,” James said.
“The gate? But the shadows…”
“Any shadows that haven’t already found purchase in a body will have faded.” He spoke so matter-of-factly that Will didn’t question him. “And we have a couple of days before those who perished of the white death will rise again.”
Will recognized the tremor of guilt that shuddered across James’ expression for what it was.
James couldn’t seem to look at him. “I got everyone through that I could.”
“I know you did.”
For me. The unspoken words followed, unbidden.
“The shadows came so quickly…”
“I know,” Will said softly. “Kettering managed to get to the brand before I did. I’m sorry.”
James did look at him then, a storm raging in his blue gaze. “Kettering?”
It wasn’t the question Will had expected. But then again, if James really had recovered Anharion’s memories, maybe he’d already known of Sarcean’s brand. Will wondered at what point Sarcean had required the Collar to ensure Anharion’s loyalty. He wondered whether he’d ever had his loyalty without it in the first place.
“He was a Returner,” Will said.
James nodded, a pensive line etched between his brows. “And the brand?”
Will’s mouth pulled down into a grimace. “Cyprian destroyed it.” The moment seemed to relive itself in his mind even as he spoke the words—Cyprian’s body bowing as he brought the Executioner’s Axe down in one fateful arc and shattered the brand like glass. A feeling of hopelessness dropped in his stomach all over again.
“That sounds about right.” James sneered.
“I tried to tell him that I could use it to stop the shadows, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“My little brother never did have a mind for nuance.”
Yet, despite the dismissiveness evident in James’ words, Will couldn’t find it in his heart to blame Cyprian. As a Steward all he’d ever known was defeating the Dark. Had their roles been reversed, could Will say that he would’ve chosen differently?
“If all you’ve said is true, then it’s all the more important we get back to the gate.”
Something in James’ voice had Will’s nerves buzzing. He was all golden determination in the dappled forest light, every line a devastating echo of the Sun King’s greatest champion. It was so easy for Will to envision him in that resplendent white armor, gleaming like a beacon of hope. He didn’t belong by Will’s side, his light dimmed in a world of shadow.
But James was all he had now. And there were some sacrifices too great to bear.
“What are you thinking?” Will asked.
The corner of James’ lips curled. “The brand can be remade. We just need to travel back to the Hall and through the Serpent Gate.”
~x~
They waited for the cover of night to approach the Sun Gate. Will could still sense some of Sinclair’s men scattered across the mountain, but fortunately most of them had congregated around the palace. Doubtless they were scouring the oubliette for what Will already knew to be lost. At least it would buy them time.
He couldn’t bring himself to dwell too long on what had become of Cyprian, Grace, Violet and Elizabeth. Will supposed that Violet and Elizabeth had family—or at least the resemblance of it—to protect them from immediate catastrophe. Cyprian and Grace might not be so lucky.
But if the brand really could be remade, perhaps there was still time to right all the wrongs he’d unwittingly plunged them into. He could still defeat Sinclair. He could still stop this army. And then maybe…just maybe…
“The coast is clear. We should go.” James said, urging his horse forward.
Will followed in silent agreement.
It wasn’t a long ride. They’d kept to the outskirts of the forest, just along the edge of the bluff. As soon as they crested the hill, they would be in the open plains, and it would be a straight gallop to the gate.
The fallen leaves that crunched beneath their horses’ footfalls became loamy grass as they started up the hill, and the break in the tree-line brought with it an unexpected chill in the air. Lavender sky stretched above them, still clinging to the final dregs of sunlight even a slivered moon beckoned the coming night.
“Prepare yourself,” James whispered.
A shiver trickled down Will’s spine at the unspoken understanding that passed between them.
They crested the hill, and took off.
Wind roared in Will’s ears as the gate’s dark silhouette came into view, the broken curve a solemn line of silver in the fading light. And then his eyes drifted down, and his heart leapt into his throat.
There was no preparing for it—the splayed smattering of bodies like a pale gash across the bluff. Their forms eerily stiff and unblinking, stony eyes staring up at nothing. There had to be thousands of them.
All those people. All those lives stolen. He should’ve been able to save them. If only he’d been stronger. More clever. He should’ve—
A skittering wave of warmth of James’ power drifted across Will’s cheek, guiding his head back forward. Don’t look, it said. There’s nothing you can do now.
It was a small mercy that their horses were fast. Will reined his horse back, not wanting to risk a spook so close to the cliffside. He watched James race past him, graceful and fluid as water as he flung his leg over the side of his mare and pulled her to a stop just as his feet touched ground. He tossed the reins to Will moments later and rushed to the gate.
Panting, Will dismounted as well, his eyes trained on the confident line of James’ shoulders as his hand reached for the gate’s sun emblem. For me, something inside him purred. All for me.
The horses threw their heads up and gnashed at their bits as magic pulsed through the air. Will held them steady, calming them as best he could. He wasn’t as good with horses as Grace and Sarah.
“Aragas.”
James’ voice rippled through him as magic electrified the air, and the gate flashed open. A torrent of wind swept across the field, pushing at Will’s back, as if the gate meant to draw them in.
Home, Will couldn’t help but think. He walked towards the gate, his feet sure even as the horses balked at his side.
A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye.
He turned, eyes sifting across the mounds of marbled bodies. A ringed hand stretched up, shaking and bloodied. Will’s breath left him. “Ettore?”
Will dropped the reins and broke out into a run towards him. “Ettore!”
The horses reared and thundered back towards the forest. And that’s when Will saw them—a squadron of men on horseback racing towards them, dressed in Sinclair’s colors. Blindly, he hurtled his power towards them, only to find his purchase slip right through them like water through open fingers. Gritting his teeth, Will cast out a net of magic once more only to flounder in the void that met him. Panic surged up his throat.
They didn’t wear the brand.
He collapsed on his knees next to Ettore. His armor was soaked with blood, but his chest strained with shallow, pained breaths. He was alive.
“You need to get up,” Will said, even as he hoisted the man’s arm over his shoulder. But Ettore was much larger than him, and barely conscious despite. He was dead weight in Will’s arms.
“Will!” James called. “We have to go now!”
Will’s legs strained beneath him, shaking with the effort it took just to get to his feet. The gate was no more than thirty paces away, but the distance seemed an unbridgeable gap. He could hear the shouts of Sinclair’s men. He could feel the ground rumble from the pounding of their horses’ hooves.
“Come on, Ettore.” Will took a staggering step forward.
“Will! Leave him!”
Will’s grip only tightened. He’d already left so many behind. Maybe it was better that he die here. At least he would die trying to save someone.
Sinclair’s men were closing in, the barrels of their muskets glinting ominously in the moonlight.
“Will!”
The sheer terror in James’ voice speared into the pit of Will’s stomach, as if he could feel James’ fear, acrid and devastatingly potent. The reservoir of magic inside of him trembled, an indomitable force pushing against the barrier of his skin. And suddenly, his vision shuttered and shifted.
Will blinked, not understanding what he was seeing.
Instead of a grassy plain, Will was standing in a field of burning shadow. It danced around him like inverted fire, moving in time with the unsteady beat of his heart. He could still see James in the distance, his body luminous and glimmering like starlight. A shining beacon in the dark. Deep calm settled over Will.
He turned to Ettore, only to find an unrecognizable shadow leaning against his side. Will stared at it, unafraid.
“Move,” he commanded.
The shadow snapped to attention, it’s form straightening, and the fathomless pits of its eyes growing wide. Wind roared in Will’s ears as they hurtled forward, faster than the wind itself. Within his next breath they were in front of James, and the world had righted itself back to its normal dusky hues.
James was staring at him like he was something impossible. Will could only stare back as the weight of Ettore’s body threatened to buckle his knees once more.
“Go!” James shoved him through the gate just as the sound of gunfire exploded through the air.
Will tumbled against hard stone. Ettore came right after, slamming into his chest and knocking all the air from his lungs. Will reached out blindly, willing James to follow.
The gate flickered shut and silence overtook the hall.
A moment later, a warm hand threaded with his own. Relief, stark and ambient, rocketed through him. He held tight to James’ hand—a tether that he would sooner stop breathing than release.
“Reckless idiot,” James huffed. With uncharacteristic awkwardness, he helped roll Ettore off of Will, seeming just as unwilling to break the physical connection between them.
Will was breathless. “You’re alright?”
James was nothing like the dilapidated, drained boy who’d poured every last ounce of himself into the gate the last time he’d opened it. His cheeks were vibrant and his eyes glistening. “I am. Are you? Before…I thought—there was a moment where I was certain that you’d disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
The line of James’ mouth grew thin as his fingers curled into the back of Will’s hand. Gingerly, he drew their hands up to his mouth, his lips ghosting along Will’s knuckles. Will shivered so violently the room around him seemed to vibrate.
“It’s been a long day,” James said, his breath hot against Will’s skin. “I must be imagining things.”
Will didn’t trust himself to speak. He barely trusted himself to breathe.
Ettore wheezed, breaking through Will’s stupor like a plunge into icy water.
James’ brow tightened with something akin to annoyance.
“I had to save him,” Will said softly.
“Of course you did.”
Even in the dim light of the corridor, James’ blue eyes were dazzling. There was nothing but fond devotion in them now, and some part of Will couldn’t help but soak it in like a sponge. For a moment, it almost felt real. He wondered if this was how Sarcean had felt—how long it had taken before he’d stopped caring if Anharion’s feelings were real or not.
Beside them, Ettore coughed, blood sputtering over his parted lips.
Sighing, James helped Will to his feet. “Well I guess we can’t let him die now.” With a simple twist of James’ wrist, Ettore’s body lifted off the ground, hanging suspended with his limbs spread and his head lolling.
“Where are the others?”
James gave a single-shouldered shrug. “They’ve ventured farther into the Hall I suppose. Here’s hoping they’ve taken care of any remnants of Sinclair’s minions along the way. Not that you couldn’t have handled them, darling, but what a chore.”
Will decidedly ignored the pet name, despite the way it made his blood simmer. “If we hurry maybe we can catch them and lead them to the Steward’s quarters. There should still be enough food and medicine to get everyone through the week.”
“And the Serpent Gate?” The question was casual in tone, but Will could read between the thickly veiled lines of James expression. He was worried.
But for once, Will had no comfort to offer him. He tried to summon his usual sureness of tone, only to hear the notes in his voice go flat. “Once Ettore is stable and the people are safe, we’ll go to the gate.”