Chapter 212

Daemonikai’s heart clenched. He shoved down the emotions stirring within him—feelings he thought he had buried long ago. “I don’t like it,” he said. “Reality has no place here. I want to stay here with you.”

“No, you don’t,” Evie said, stopping and turning to face him. “Guilt is a cruel companion; it tarnishes even the most beautiful things.”

“This is the second time you’ve said that,” Daemonikai noted, frowning.

“Guilt drives you, dearest,” Evie said, raising a hand as he started to protest. “Let me finish, please. You believe you dishonor me by acknowledging these feelings. You’d rather remain here, not because you truly want to, but because reality is more tempting. You’re unsure how much longer you can fight what you feel—and fight you think you should, because if you don’t, you feel guilty for replacing us. Replacing me.”

That was preposterous and untrue. Daemonikai opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. His mouth opened and closed, silent, because a horse was suddenly trampling on his chest. She was wrong. But was she? Now, a whole herd of horses were stampeding over him.

“Don’t be like that, Daemon,” Evie said gently. “I love you. I will always love you. But I’m not your soulmate. You think I didn’t know how hard it was for you to accept me? Your beast resisted, took his time. You wouldn’t even go into rut when I went into heat.”

Her eyes glimmered with sadness. “At first, I thought something was wrong with me. But now I see. It was because I wasn’t the one meant for you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Daemonikai rasped.

“Ukrae never intended for you to be alone, Daemon. He gave me to you, knowing your true mate wouldn’t exist for another five thousand years. She’s your special person. I was just meant to fill the space. You replaced her with me, not the other way around. You dishonor her by denying your feelings, not me.”

She cupped his cheek. “She is your fated mate, dearest. The beginning and the end. Let the guilt go. Stop running from what you feel. Stop letting bitterness and grief win.”

Daemonikai blinked hard, trying to keep his eyes dry. “You shouldn’t be so perceptive,” he grumbled. “You’re not real.”

Evie laughed—that same soft laugh that used to stir him. Now, there was nothing. For the first time, he admitted the truth: what he felt for Evie was no longer love, it was guilt. Facing the truth hurt. He should know; he had been running from it for a very long time.

“She is yours, my dearest,” Evie said, her eyes filled with melancholic tenderness. “Don’t throw away something so beautiful, so fulfilling, so wholesome. Why dwell in the past when the present holds such promise, a chance to shape a radiant and joyful future? Stop hurting yourself. It hurts me to see you like this.”

“It’s not easy,” he said hoarsely.

“I know,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “But the Daemonikai I know is strong, unbeatable. How can we rest peacefully knowing our deaths pushed you this far into self-destruction?” She paused. “Why do you think our sons refuse to speak with you?”

Daemonikai’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

Evie moved closer, placing her hand on his cheek. “I only speculate, but if their feelings are anything like mine, then they are burdened with guilt, pain, and deep sorrow. Seeing their father—their strong, unbreakable father—walking the edge of destruction, it’s a heavy load to carry.”

Daemonikai averted his eyes, his chest heavy. “From feral madness to a dying soul because of them. How do you think that makes them feel?”

Tears fell from his eyes.

“Your boys need to know their father is happy again. They need to see you thriving,” Evie murmured, wiping his tears. “You want to alleviate their guilt? Then perhaps you should start by addressing your own. How can you tell them to let go, to absolve themselves of blame when you cannot do the same? Our intelligent sons will see through your bullshit. Before you tell them, show them. Show them you’ve moved on, that you’re happy. Show them your life isn’t on hold because of what happened, because of what they believe is their fault. Show them you are not dying from it.”

“You’re burning up,” a voice said. “I’m trying to soothe you, like water, an ointment to the soul. Do you mind, your Grace?” Emereiel’s voice.

A feeling like happiness bloomed in him. If his heart could beat in this spirit form, it would be racing. Heavens, he had missed that voice… Was Evie saying he shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to hear more of it?

“For a male so observant, you’re an expert at ignoring what you don’t want to see,” Evie said, wiping her own tears. “One of those things is how deeply you care for Emeriel. That’s her name, right?”

Daemonikai nodded, his cheeks flushing.

“You can’t blame your beast or the bond anymore, my dearest. Your beast isn’t here, and the bond is dying, along with your soul. They aren’t the reason you hear her voice now. Or why you’re so desperate to hear more.” Evie's words hung in the air. His guilt, which he could no longer hide, was plain on his face. He couldn’t pretend anymore. He didn’t have the strength to keep denying it.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” Evie said with a light chuckle, withdrawing her hands. “I’m rooting for you, Daemon. I always have been. I want you to be happy. I want to look back and know my dearest is alive again. Not just breathing, but truly alive. Anyone can breathe, but not everyone truly lives. I want you to live again.”