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“I’m no saint, but it’s ironic you would think so. The tomb was built to keep me in, to ensure I never woke to cause chaos or chase retribution again.
“And you, my bold thief, entered my sacred crypt, took my treasure, and woke me up. Wouldn’t you agree you owe me?”
“As the treaty states, anyone or anything who enters my lair is mine. So call your priest or whoever you use to perform ceremonies. As punishment, Tanith shall marry me.”
One thing you must learn, Tanith, is that, given the opportunity to change, most people would rather keep things as they are, keep the status quo. Because change is frightening, it tears down all defenses and forces one to begin anew, to rebuild, and that takes work. No one wants to do the work or deal with the repercussions of their actions and deeds, just as you’re angry with me for punishing you for your crime.”
“No, it’s not fair, but they are free to leave, free to save themselves. I have warned them. They’ve seen what is to come. Dowler is doomed. It will be destroyed. No matter what happens, you’ll have to stand by and accept that or be proactive and help me. I don’t have to give you a choice, for you made yourself mine the moment you stepped into my tomb.”
Releasing her, I stormed to my shelves and riffled through the clutter until I found my hunting knife. Placing a cup on the desk, I held my arm out, and without preamble, slit my wrist. Blood gushed out, a deep red, almost black. The cup was half full when I stopped, wrapping my wrist with a bandage. It soaked through, but I’d close the wound later. Returning to Tanith’s side, I lifted her head. “Tanith, if you can hear me, listen. Drink this to live. It’s medicine, it will heal you.”