Duskbound

by Bree Grenwich

For those who learned that darkness doesn't devour. It forges.

“You want me to show you?” he growled.

Believe me, if we could, I would have found a way to do it already. Because I’m no gentleman.

This realm is dying, and you’re the single fucking thing that has the ability to save it.”

“Tryggar has just claimed you.”

“You’ll trip if you don’t start looking where you’re going,”

“Careful, that sounds like something a gentleman might say.”

“In that case, carry on.”

We had been thriving while another realm turned to dust.

“We will rain destruction down on them. They will return what's mine.”

But the second I glanced in his direction, those golden eyes locked onto mine with frustrating speed.

“What does that mean?” I asked quietly. “You seem to… generate your own essence.”

It was as if he thrived on agitating me, like he enjoyed pissing me off. It seemed to be the only time even a hint of amusement touched him.

I needed that silver Vördr to drop down. Now. Preferably on Aether’s head.

“You disgust me.”

you weren’t the key to saving this realm, I would have already ended you. Entitled and selfish. Everything about you is revolting to me.

For a brief second, I felt a surge run through me, something like lightning coursing through my veins. And then it became clear—I had forgotten how to feel at all.

We hadn't been heroes. We had been executioners.

If we weren’t potentially falling to our doom, I would have killed him for the complete invasion of feeling him so—utterly—intensely against me.

This wasn't just about a dying land. It was about people—people who had done nothing to deserve this slow death. People who still found ways to live, to hope, even as their world crumbled around them.

"It's better the other way."

Try not to overthink it. If only she knew how impossible that request was for me.

"The thing about desperation is it makes you forget there might be other choices.

"You know, I used to think redemption meant erasing who you were before. Becoming someone new."

"But sometimes it's about accepting all of it—the mistakes, the choices, even the parts that shame us."

"It's not about proving them wrong, you know. It's about proving to yourself that you're worthy. That you always were."

The strangest expression graced his face. One I had never seen him wear before. Pride. But it was darker than that. A kind of dark satisfaction that made my hair stand on end, that made heat rush through my veins.

I missed him with an intensity that scared me. Because I didn't know what we were.

"So you admit you're a recluse?" "I prefer the term selective socializer."

He was probably off somewhere being mysterious and brooding this early in the day.

You're still blushing."

the brutish warrior wearing scholarly spectacles—struck

"I've got about five hundred on my to-read list.

"Every time I figure out which one I'll read next, another draws my attention. I'll never make it through that many, but it's fun to think I might."

He was almost devastating to look at, that statuesque beauty almost too perfect at this angle, backlit and shadowed against the archives.

"Because I don't care to watch you die."

"Not for this. Not for some desperate, idiotic gamble."

I stared at him, caught off guard by the raw emotion in his voice. His careful control had cracked, revealing something underneath.

But I wasn't that lost girl anymore, hiding in shadows and letting others write my story. I had found my own power, my own truth.

I might be caught between two realms, but those parts of me—the ones that made me a weapon, an asset, something to be feared or welded or forged… Those parts belonged to me.

"The thing about bone," he said, his tone unnervingly calm, "is how many pieces it can break into. Shall we count them?"

"I'm taking you away from here."

"Why didn't you just take me back to the city?"

"I didn't want you to be overwhelmed when you woke up."

"But what we did," I whispered, "it was an act of war." "And I'd do it again," Aether growled, and my eyes found his once more.

“As soon as the drugs wore off, they found their branding irons lodged in their throats.”

"But you did use it. For me."

"What I did in that chamber..."

"That wasn't a tactical choice. It wasn...

"Then what w...