(The events of this chapter take place after the Faerie Bound chapter "Talking is Hard")
Morgan returned later that day and we talked a bit more. I tried a few times to impress her, but all I managed to do was make even more of a fool of myself. As soon as Morgan left the room I flopped back on the bed and tried to brain myself on the bedpost.
Idiot! Acting like a prat to try and impress her, honestly you really are pathetic. No wonder she'd wanted to leave, you were being such a brainless buffoon you probably scared her! Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!
As I gave myself a vicous mental thrashing; the nurse began changing the bags of fluid attatched to the drips in my arm. It hurt, and I could feel the needles plucking at my damaged skin. For once I took no notice, I was far too busy yelling at myself.
The sooner I can get up the better, then maybe I won't have to waste my time mooning after her. Then I can do something productive.
If only I hadn't let myself get injured in the first place, then none of this would have happened!
After berrating myself for a few more minutes I eventually gave up and let my mind wander. My thoughts turned back to the night of the battle, of the terror and fury that had driven me to fight almost to the death. I remembered the Drael's final screech as I plunged my sword (which, come to think of it, I hadn't seen since the fight) into the black abyss where it's heart should have been.
It had tried to kill me; contrary to its orders it had tried to kill me.
But then again, if it wanted me alive, why fight me at all?
None of this made sense, I'd been running from my family for years, most of my life in fact, and they had never tried to take me back forcibly. They'd bribed, begged, blackmailed and even attempted kidnap once or twice but they'd never resorted to this.
If I knew them, which I knew I did, they would have done anything to get their heir back in one piece. This just didn't match up. Something was missing here, like the crucial piece in a puzzle.
Then it hit me.
If they'd tried to get rid of me, then they must have found another way of continuing the legacy without me. That meant that I had simply been a runaway extra that, although they still wanted me, was no longer a vital part of their plan.
That meant they'd found someone else to take my place.
That meant that I was not, in fact, the last of my bloodline.
That meant that my battle had all been for nothing.