Chapter 497 Delivered.

Chapter 497 Delivered.
(Caelum Ashborne) 

The pressure vanished. The gold flame withdrew from Cael's veins as quickly as it had invaded them, the Netherfire dissolving with it. Air rushed painfully back into his lungs, and he caught himself on shaking hands before collapsing completely onto the stone floor. Every muscle still echoed with remembered pain. 
He remained there, breathing hard. 
Arkael looked down at him. 
"I suggest," he said, straightening the sleeves of his robes with the same calm precision one might straighten clothing after a long pleasant conversation, "you continue not loving her." 
"If you become an obstacle..." Arkael turned towards the library doors. "...I will remove you. Without prejudice." 
He took several measured steps, then stopped at the threshold. His back remained to Cael. 
"Do not mistake my devotion to the prophecy for devotion to the girl." 
Silence settled through the library. 
"She may be the prophesied Queen..." His voice was as calm as ever. "...but even queens can bleed." 
Cael's stomach dropped. 
"I will see the Emberborn restored. I will win this war." He turned his head just enough for one crimson eye to catch the light. 
"With her..." A pause. "...or without her." 
The words settled over the room like ash. 
"So do not make the mistake of believing I won't kill you both." 
Another heartbeat passed. 
"But before I do..." The corner of his mouth curved into the faintest smile. 
"Well..." He almost sounded amused. "Dravenor has always enjoyed breaking beautiful things." 
The library fell silent. Arkael stepped through the doorway without another glance. The doors remained open after he left. 
Cael stayed where he was, every muscle still trembling as the lingering agony of his father's power echoed through his body. 
A slow clap echoed through the shelves. 
Once. 
Twice. 
Cael's head lifted. 
Dravenor leaned casually against one of the towering bookcases, arms folded across his chest, the corner of his mouth curled into the same faint, predatory smile he had always worn whenever he was deciding how to hurt someone the most. 
"So..." He pushed himself lazily away from the shelf. "You do love her." 
"I said no such thing." 
"No." Dravenor smiled wider. "You only lied to Father badly enough that even I almost felt sorry for you." 
His boots echoed softly across the stone as he crossed the remaining distance with unhurried confidence. He stopped directly in front of Cael. For a long moment, he simply stared at him. 
Then he seized a fistful of Cael's collar and hauled him effortlessly onto his feet. Cael's weakened body offered almost no resistance. Their faces were only inches apart when, unexpectedly, he smiled. 
"There you are." 
His hand reached up, ruffling Cael's hair exactly as he had when they were boys. 
"My little brother." 
Cael recoiled. 
"I've missed you." Dravenor laughed. 
He ruffled his hair again. 
"I've missed playing with you." 
His fingers slid down to Cael's cheek. 
Smack. 
The slap wasn't hard. It wasn't intended to hurt. Only to humiliate. 
"There it is." 
Another slap. Gentle. Almost affectionate. 
"Oh, I've missed that face." He sighed dramatically. "That sad, pathetic little expression you always made after I'd ruined something you loved." 
His eyes drifted across the shelves as though reminiscing. 
"The little ember lizard. The colt Grandfather insisted was yours. The hawk you spent years training." 
A soft laugh escaped him. 
"You never understood." 
His gaze settled back on Cael. 
"I never hated them. I just loved what happened to you afterwards." 
He smiled. 
"Watching you realise they were gone. Watching hope disappear from your face. Watching you understand there wasn't a damned thing you could do about it." 
He caught Cael by the front of his tunic and hauled him closer, so that Dravenor’s breath heated Cael’s cheek. 
Dravenor held him upright with one hand. 
"I've waited nine hundred years to see that face again." 
His smile broadened. 
"And then Father walks through those doors bringing me the perfect little toy. The Devil's bitch." 
He almost laughed with delight. "What a thoughtful gift." 
His smile softened into something almost affectionate. 
"Mind you... if you'd fallen in love with some stable girl instead, I'd have thanked Father for bringing her home to me." 
His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. 
"It was never going to matter who she was. I don't care about the girl, Caelum.” His eyes searched his brother's. "I care that you do." 
Another smile. 
"She's only interesting because she belongs inside that pathetic little heart of yours." 
His eyes glittered. 
"Pus… From everything I've heard..." he smiled, not with joy, with sadistic pleasure. "…the Devil has already broken the little whore in." 
He shrugged. "Which saves me the effort." 
A thoughtful hum escaped him. 
"Then again..." 
"The Devil was always softer than me, wasn't he?" 
His grin stretched wider. 
"He stopped before their lifeless bodies got cold." 
A chuckle left him, one that made Cael want to shiver. 
“But not me. I still find my fun with their lifeless bodies. Right up until the rot sets in.” 
He hummed with thoughtfulness. 
“But… for the Devil’s whore. For the pussy my little brother gave his heart to. Well… I bet I could find a way to keep her alive. At least for a few years. Wouldn’t want her to miss out on the fun.” 
He smiled then, full teeth, wide-spread across his face. 
“And we both know how fun I am.” 
He leaned in until only inches separated their faces. 
"So please..." His voice became almost pleading. "Tell me you love her." 
Dravenor paused, searching Cael’s face for a response. 
"Tell me she's the most important thing in the world to you. Because I've missed taking those things away." 
He gave Cael another light slap across the cheek. 
"I've missed watching you break." 
His smile became almost childlike. 
"And if she's what finally shatters you..." He chuckled. “Well... I couldn't have imagined a better homecoming for my little brother." 
He released Cael with a shove. 
"I've waited nine centuries to play with you again, little brother." 
His eyes flicked towards the doorway through which Adelaide had disappeared. 
"I do hope Father lets me keep this one for a while." 
He looked almost wistful. 
"Nine hundred years is a long time to wait for another favourite toy." 
He smiled at Cael. 
"Not her, little brother..." A quiet chuckle escaped him. "...you." 
He took one final step closer. 
"So please..." Dravenor said softly. "Indulge me." 
His smile became almost boyish. 
"Please admit you love the little Devil's bitch whore." 
His eyes gleamed. 
"I'd very much like a turn with our little queen… and her royal fucking cunt, at least before Father grows tired of pretending she's a queen." 
Every lingering echo of Arkael's flames vanished beneath something colder. 
Rage. 
The dining chamber crashed back into focus. Cael realised his hand had tightened so violently around his goblet that the crystal threatened to fracture beneath his grip. 
Against every instinct telling him not to... He looked up. 
Not at Adelaide. At Dravenor. 
His eldest brother hadn't touched his meal. He wasn't listening to the conversation around the table, nor was he partaking in it either. 
He was watching her. Patiently. Silently. With that same smile. 
Cael felt the blood drain from his face. 
For nine hundred years he had survived Apollo's court. 
He had spent nine hundred years convincing himself there was nowhere in Hell more dangerous than Apollo's side. Once she arrived, he knew that if he could bring Adelaide home... She would finally be safe. 
Now, for the first time since stepping through the palace gates... He wasn't sure that was true. 
A single thought hollowed him from the inside. 
Had I delivered her into the jaws of something even worse?