-Chapter Fourteen-

Reaver had my wrist caught in a fiercely tight grip, and I tried to wrench away from him. Why couldn't he just let me go? Could he not see that I wanted to be alone so very desperately? I fought against him for a few moments, the grin on his face fueling my anger, and I sucked in a deep breath. I gathered the Will in my body, and I sent it outward, knocking him backward violently. Catching my breath, I shook my hand which throbbed from the immense tightness of his grip.

He landed flat on his back with a sharp grunt. Gathering his composure quickly, he climbed back to his feet. His hand twitched at his waist, reaching for a Dragonstomper, but it soon dropped. "You've had your fun, Keira," He hissed. "But I can only retain my gentlemanly demeanor for so long." He rushed forward, and he seized me by the shoulders.

"Gentlemanly?" I spat, my eyes widening into a glare of reproach. "A gentleman doesn't press a matter when asked to stop." My anger was getting the better of me, and before I knew it, I was spewing more words. "A gentleman doesn't simply shove his prick into every woman he sees."

"I do not discriminate based on gender, my dear," He quipped, his eyebrows shooting upward, taunting me.

"You BASTARD!"

I threw myself into his chest, knocking him fiercely into the grass. A roar of frustration tore from my throat. How did he manage to infuriate me when, only minutes ago, I had been steeped in a deep, crippling sorrow? How could I care so much about what he did when I knew he'd manipulated me? My fists flew wildly against his face, and tears exploded from me.

He seized my arms, attempting to hold me steady, but when that proved fruitless, he used his strength to flip me onto my back. His hands pinned me to the ground, and I writhed angrily beneath him.

"I do not care if you are upset over my dalliances. This is not about that, now," He snarled, his body pressing down against mine, holding me in place. His face was already swelling and red from the force of my blows. "How did you get that Dark Seal you now have in your pocket?" His voice was filled with an anger that I hadn't expected. Why would he be angry with me?

I shook my head, my lips pressing tightly together. "This would never have happened if..." A soft sob escaped me. "Leave it to you to set me on a collision course with such dark, twisted beings, only to, myself, commit such monstrosities..."

He looked bewildered for a moment, his eyes widening, and he pulled back. "What did you do?" His grip on my wrists loosened, but he would not let me go.

"I...I thought that they would bring him back as he once was," I wept, my head falling back into the grass with a soft thud. The corners of my eyes stung, and I squeezed them shut, trying to ease the discomfort the budding tears brought on. "Th-they said that if I gave them a dark, tainted soul, they would bring Logan back, but he came back wrong...suffering. I could not let him exist solely in torment..." I opened my eyes once more to find him staring intently down at me.

"You have already given The Shadow Court this soul they requested?" he questioned, his eyes suddenly very severe-looking.

I nodded silently, and the tightness of my throat felt as if it might smother me.

For a few moments he looked relieved, as if he thought my deal with the shadows somehow implicated him.

"And you ended your brother's suffering," He finished.

"Yes," My voice crackled gently.

I heard him let out a breath that I didn't know he'd been holding, and he slowly rolled off of me. I took the opportunity to roll onto my side, facing away. The shadows truly had tricked me. I wouldn't have been surprised if the figment that followed me around Wraithmarsh had been created only to manipulate me. I brought my hands to my temples, rubbing at them, trying to quell the throbbing headache that budded behind my eyes.

"How could you be so foolish?" Reaver asked pointedly. "How could you not have known that the price would be steep?"

"I don't know," I squeaked, shaking my head. "I really don't know." My voice warbled, and I dissolved into tears once more.

He sighed with frustration, and he cursed under his breath. His hand settled on my shoulder, but now it was gentle. He brushed away the hair that hung in my face, and I heard him exhale.

"Who did you give to the Shadow Court?" The question was tentative, but he turned me onto my back once more. His fingers captured my jaw, tilting my head upward, forcing my gaze to meet with his. His eyes were serious, inquiring, but his breathing was deep and steady, as if trying to hold something back.

Shame crept over me, and I exhaled. "Constance..." My voice faltered. "I gave them Constance."

He looked puzzled for a moment, but he then nodded slowly. "I see." He didn't seem to be affected by the revelation, and I was not sure if I should be comforted by his indifference or wounded by it. Had she really meant so little to him? He had shown little regard to his other lovers in the past. Was I different, or was I simply another in a long string of beneficial intimate acquaintances?

A silence grew between us, and his mouth tightened as he glanced me over once more. "You are...unharmed?" His eyebrows raised for a moment, but he then cleared his throat. "Like me, The Shadow Court is infamous for doing whatever it takes to turn a 'no' into a 'yes'...no matter the damage."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. Physically, I was exhausted but otherwise unharmed. My mind was suddenly so clear, and I was now positive that The Shadow Court had been to blame for my relentless nightmares and weakening frame of mind. It had all been an intricate, malevolent design to drive me to my edge. My voice rasped as I spoke, "They made me see things...think things...but my choice was my own. I wish I could say it wasn't, but...I said yes of my own will." I covered my face with my hands, the remorse crashing over me like an unforgiving wave.

He pulled me into a sitting position, and when my fatigued muscles sagged in protest, he held me upright. "What you feel—the remorse, the loathsome regret and worry—is to be expected." He looked short of words for a few seconds. "Many years ago, I felt as you feel, but my price was different, as were my reasons for paying it."

I focused on his face for a few moments. His eyes looked suddenly haunted, and his jaw tightened as he averted his gaze. His facade of composure flew across his features quickly, probably realizing the vulnerability he'd shown. My stomach twisted, and for a moment, I wanted nothing more than to lean into his arms and weep—to accept the comfort that he seemed to be offering—but part of me was afraid to show such weakness. He might mistake weakness for forgiveness. He still had so much to answer for, but his affair, as hurtful as it was, wasn't the most pressing issue. Maybe he would be able to give me a better understanding of what I had just gotten myself into.

"You have known The Shadow Court for a long time, then," I stated uneasily.

"A very long time," He affirmed with a nod, returning his gaze to me, and he exhaled. "Come. It seems we have much to discuss." He rose gracefully to his feet, and he held a hand out to me.

I looked up at my husband, and I saw that for a fraction of a second, he looked different—genuine. I hesitantly placed my hand in his, and when he helped me to my feet, I allowed him to slip a supportive arm around me. I leaned against him for physical support, my aching legs protesting with every step, but we moved toward the castle's rear entrance all the same.

When I stole a glance at him, he was staring at me with a discerning expression. His brows were drawn inward, and his mouth looked almost severe, but his eyes were full of an emotion that seemed absolutely foreign to him—pity.

I was thankful that the maids were able to hastily draw me a bath . They tried to warn me that the water was too hot, but I only felt pure relief as I sank down into the steaming tub. I closed my eyes and let my overworked muscles loosen. I would be glad to be finally cleansed of the filth of the past few days. If only the hot water would wash away the dark stain in my heart.

I wished that I could fold time on itself and allow it to swallow the past few years. Such a skill would return Logan to me and enable me to choose my actions more wisely. If granted that second chance, I would take more caution in dealing with Reaver. I'd foolishly let him in when he had specifically told me to close myself off to everyone. I should have listened. The more I thought about it, the more foolish I felt. Everything that had happened to me until this point had been my own doing—not just Reaver's. I supposed I deserved every second of the misery I endured.

For a good while, I forgot that Reaver was in the room, but he made himself known by clearing his throat. He'd obviously let me bathe in silence for a good while because the water had already started to go cool. I'd lost track of time while engrossed in my thoughts, trying to make sense of everything.

When I glanced up in his direction, I saw that he was seated on a high-backed chair in the corner, observing me with a look that a starving man might give a steak. Reaver slipped his hands into his pockets and cocked a brow at me. He looked almost unsure of what to say which, for someone who was never afraid to give his unabashed opinion, was odd.

"So, you gave them.

My stomach dropped, and I averted my eyes. "They asked for someone with a dark, corrupt soul, and I named her." I returned my gaze to him. "Why? Does that upset you?"

"Not at all, actually. She was a pitiful excuse for a person," he said as if it were truly no big deal. Was he so inhuman that he genuinely did not care whether she lived or died—whether she suffered in torment for all eternity because of their affair? Suddenly, I remembered that he undoubtedly made regular sacrifices to The Shadow Court. It was probably second-nature for him to be so callous when it came to the lives of others. What kind of person was he before he'd given himself over to the shadows? What had he given up for this life?

"I just thought it was an interesting choice." He stood, his eyes dark and inquiring. The swelling in his face had gone down slightly, but his jaw and cheekbones were still marred by red and purple splotches of bruising.

"So did the Shadow Court," I told him, still inspecting his injuries.

He looked contemplative for a few moments. "I think I know who they intended for you to name, but I cannot fathom why..."

I gulped softly, and his words made sense. They may have intended for me to name Reaver. Perhaps whatever deal he had made with them was not as beneficial for them as mine was. Maybe they were ready to be rid of him. What could he possibly give them if not souls? What else would they want? "You don't seem to be very familiar with this particular situation..." I noted.

"My deal with The Shadow Court is of a different nature. I do not give them souls, as your deal seem to require. They take the youth and vitality of my tributes, and in return, I remain youthful and vigorous."

I raised a brow at him. Suddenly the terms of my deal seemed a lot less selfish. I did not know what to say in reply. What would have driven Reaver to make such a deal? Had he suffered some loss that had scared him into seeking immortality, or had he truly been so vain that he dare not let his beauty slip away?

"The man who made that deal no longer exists. He was a man afraid of death. Now, I send my sacrifices to the court yearly because they have made it known that if I were to stop...they would come for me. I have done too much with this long, plentiful life of mine to let it slip away so easily...for nothing."

"You are more than just an immortal, aren't you?" I found myself asking. I was sure that the degree of his strength and accuracy could not have been part of his deal. The Shadows would never give something above and beyond that which was agreed upon. He had to have been of Heroic descent, and he had a connection to the shadows...

"It was you who led my mother into Wraithmarsh all those years ago, wasn't it?" I paused, drawing a breath. "That would make you the Hero of Skill."

If it were true, it meant that Reaver was far more dangerous than I could have ever known. It would certainly make sense. His agility, his deadly accuracy, and his cunning were all attributes that The Hero of Skill would possess. Suddenly, I thought of the descriptions of the unnamed Hero, and the behavior seemed to match as well. The vanity, the promiscuity, the petty competitiveness...

"You really are more clever than you let on," He said, sounding almost proud of my perception as a slow grin uncurled across his lips. "Yes. I am he. Does that disturb you?" He took a few steps toward me, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.

"It's no more disturbing than anything else that has happened today," I said honestly. I sank further into the water. His history was the least of my concerns at that moment. There would be time to have this argument later. It was my future that worried me. "They said that I cannot die. Is that true?"

"In my experience, yes," he said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's been nearly three-hundred years, and here I stand: still as handsome and youthful as I was centuries ago."

The number was much larger than I had expected. How does one simply stick around for three-hundred years without going mad? The thought of it baffled me. Perhaps he had gone a bit mad. He was undoubtedly a different person than he was all those centuries ago. Would I become as cold and calculating as he had over the years? Would I lose pieces of myself to time? I felt sick all over again.

I sank my head beneath the water, and I lifted my weary arms to work the built up muck and filth from my hair. It would be a small relief to be clean, but that seemed irrelevant compared to everything else I had to worry about. I broke the water's surface, and I drew in a breath. I opened my eyes to see that Reaver now stood over the tub, looking down at me.

"I think you are sufficiently clean. The water has surely gone cold by now," He said, slinging my towel over his shoulder. Without hesitating, he seized me beneath my arms and pulled me from the tub as easily as if I were a child. He set me gingerly on my feet, and I grabbed the towel from his shoulder, breaking away from his grip.

I dried myself in silence, feeling his eyes on me, and I squeezed the excess moisture from my hair. After discarding the towel, I slipped a linen nightshirt over my head. Being dressed in something with a crisp, clean scent was more comforting than I could have imagined. I smoothed the small wrinkles from the front of my gown, padding toward the roaring fire. I sat on the edge of an ottoman leaning forward and drying my hair with the heat of the flames. The warmth and light was a welcome change from the cold and darkness I'd endured in the past days.

"I am sorry that you were deceived by those wretched creatures," Reaver said suddenly, breaking the quiet that had grown between us. Was he truly sorry, or did he say this to gain some sort of quick reprieve of his wrongdoing in my eyes? "Had I known the extent of your grief—had you simply told me—I might have been able to protect you."

"Protect me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. How could he have possibly protected me? Better yet, whywould he have protected me?

"As your husband, I have certain duties, do I not?" He questioned, tilting his head.

"If you are speaking of a husband's duties, then you also had an implied duty to remain faithful to me," I said. "You cannot pick and choose which parts are acceptable to you. Marriage is marriage whether it is entered in the name of love or the name of mutual benefit."

He snorted softly, but he did not have a quip or retort. His mouth pursed, and the silence built once more.

I combed my fingers through the clean waves of my hair, huffing bitterly. Perhaps if he had been alone in his chambers that night, this whole thing might have been averted. I would have found comfort with him, and I might have been able to stave off the shadows. I turned my eyes away from him.

Who was I fooling? I would have found my way to Wraithmarsh, regardless.

If The Shadow Court had been to blame for my state of mind for the months prior, I would have ended up in that chamber no matter what Reaver or anyone else did. This was all my own doing. I had left myself vulnerable, and the shadows had taken that to their advantage.

My eyes found Reaver once more. He was stripping off his vest, which had gotten rather filthy when he'd wrestled against me in the garden. His favorite black shirt was torn at the elbow and shoulder, but he hadn't yet noticed—or perhaps he hadn't cared. His eyes were fixed exclusively on me, and he took a seat in the chair nearest to where I sat.

"Why did you name Constance?" He asked bluntly, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward, expressing interest. The question seemed sudden, but I knew it would come eventually. He had to have some interest in that subject, at least.

Heat spread across my cheeks, and I blinked. I knew that I didn't want to be truthful here. It would expose a weakness in me that he could likely exploit or look down upon. I was tired of being exploited. Perhaps I would be able to get away with a half-truth. "She was the first person that came to mind. I did not have much time to think."

"If you perceived mine and Constance's...hmm..." He paused, as if searching for a word. "...Liaison to be wrong, then why not name me? Would I not be considered the guilty party?" He questioned.

"I don't want to discuss this right now, Reaver," I said, turning my eyes away. The guilt churned within me all over again. My hair was still rather damp, but I stood, and I crossed the room, away from him. I picked up the robe that had been set out on the bed, and I shrugged it on. I made my way toward the double doors leading onto the balcony, hoping to escape the conversation, but Reaver stood sharply and blocked my path.

"I believe I have been very honest with you this evening," He asserted, his voice reinforced with determination. "I have answered every question you've had without hesitation."

I slashed my eyes up to his, and I shook my head. "Right now, I don't want to think about it."

"It is the ideal time to think about it," Reaver insisted, straightening his spine and crossing his arms over his chest. "Why did you not name me?"

There was a knock at the door.

Reaver and I stood deadlocked, our eyes focused intently on the others, seeing who would give in first. The tension in the air was almost smothering, and my heart pounded in my chest. I could not concede because I could not let him know why I had been so upset that evening: he had not only broken his vows... he had broken my heart.

After another knock, Reaver sighed, and turned around sharply to move to the door.

I took this as my opportunity to slip onto the balcony, away from the conflict. The air was temperate, and the sky was as clear as it could be with the smokestacks in Industrial working around the clock. I leaned against the railing, glaring down to the crypt. The doors were battered, but the guards had attempted to close them.

I exhaled, resting my cheek against my palm. The quiet was soothing, but it also left me alone with the slew of thoughts that rushed through my mind. I was overwhelmed by emotion and exhaustion. It was difficult to process. In the span of a few mere hours, I had sacrificed a woman's soul to darkness, and allowed that dark magic to bring my brother back to life only to end his acute suffering mere minutes later. I was now eternally bound to The Shadow Court, and it had all been for nothing.

My eyes found the family crypt once more. What would my mother say about all of this? I shook my head, already knowing the answer. She would be ashamed. She had spoken so heatedly against those foul creatures in Wraithmarsh that night I'd overheard her conversation with Walter. She cursed The Hero of Skill for all of the times he betrayed her—betrayed Albion. Now, I had taken him as my husband and given The Shadow Court power over me.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I sighed. "I have failed you more than Logan ever could have." At least Logan's intentions had been for the good of Albion when he'd done all of those terrible things...

I heard the door open softly behind me, and I closed my eyes, waiting for Reaver to pick up the conversation I had sought to escape. Instead, I felt him nudge my hand with a cool glass, and I reopened my eyes to see that he poured me a rather large nip of whiskey.

Turning my gaze to him, I took the glass, and I brought it to my lips, taking a swallow. This would not solve my problems, I knew, but perhaps I would sleep harder than I would without it. The tension between us had eased now. It no longer felt smothering, and I was grateful. My stomach had finally loosened from its knot of anxiety, and I felt as if I would be able to sleep soon.

Reaver's eyes looked down across the garden, and he said, "When I was a young man, I thought that the world was a bountiful place—full of life and promise—but it turns out that all of it is a farce. A person, even a soul of sheer nobility-" He said the word with disdain. "—like your mother can stray into darkness and no one would even know the difference."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"You already know that I sent your mother to Wraithmarsh," He stated, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a Dark Seal, though it was very different than the one that had been left behind in Logan's remains. It was made of similar black metal, but it was intricately decorated with sharp-looking cut-outs and a swirl of glimmering red stones. He placed it in my hand. The weight of it was immense. I would never have expected such a compact thing to be so heavy.

"I sent her with this, in hopes that her beauty would perpetuate mine, but on the off chance that she out-witted me, I also sent another as insurance."

I took another sip of the whiskey, the liquid burning all the way down to my stomach.

"She was presented with a choice," Reaver continued, taking my glass and sipping at the liquor. "She was offered the chance to spare the young girl I'd sent as back-up and allow The Shadow Court to take her own youth, but she decided to let The Shadows take the girl instead."

A wave of shock overtook me. I would never have imagined my mother to have done something like that. I combed my fingers through my hair, unsure of what to say or do in this response to this revelation.

"Everyone has a brush with darkness in their lives, darling," He said, passing me the glass once more. "Whether one allows the darkness to strengthen or weaken one's self is what separates the truly powerful from the dreadfully ordinary."

"Pardon me if I don't quite take that advice in stride right now, Reaver," I said, polishing off the drink, and turning to head back inside.

Reaver followed me closely, his hand wrapping around my wrist before I could reenter my bedchamber. He spun me to face him, and he raised his eyebrows, "Do not discount my words, Keira. The price you have paid for your misstep is far less severe than it could have been."

"Condemning another person to unknown torment to gain nothing but immortality?" I scoffed.

A dark grin played across his mouth. "That is quite adorable—one soul." He released me, and he opened the door for me.

I inspected him as I passed into the bedroom. I was nearly hesitant to ask what the initial price for his bargain had been, but the nagging curiosity got the better of me. "How many did you give over to them?"

"Many more than one."

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! They're greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I promise that the next one is in the works! Go ahead and leave me a review and let me know what you think so far! Follows and favorites are always appreciated!

EDIT: Totally forgot to thank my AMAZING Beta ANGELACM! She does so much for me, and I'm thankful to have her!