Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
KILLIAN
It’s a strange feeling to accept death, to know that Noxum is waiting in the wings to take you by the hand into the hereafter, whether it be to the heavens or one of the hells.
There’s a freedom to it that’s surprising.
The ever-present question of is this my last day?
Is this when it ends? that all men have in the back of their minds finally quiets now that I know the answer.
This. This is my last day. This is where it ends.
I knew it the moment we entered the field and saw thousands of warriors in crimson across the plain, waiting and eager for our blood.
I don’t know how it’s happened, how they hid so much of their might, but there’s no use dwelling on that now.
Stranger than the freedom that quieted my mind, knowing this was the end, is the pain.
Any other time in my life, I wouldn’t have felt it.
I’m a warrior, born to fight and defend.
I have people that I care about and want to protect, a whole continent that I had grand delusions of trying to save from Barony and the treacheries he’s been hefting upon Gifteds for years, a whole army under my command that look to me for answers and guidance.
And yet, before now, I would have met Noxum without fear or doubt, no pain or regret settling in my veins colder than the frozen lands around me.
Because before now, I didn’t have her.
Tess’ beautiful face stays ever present behind my eyes as I stare out at my downfall.
Piercing green eyes like emeralds set aflame that somehow look to the heart of me; deep, fiery hair that feels like silk beneath my fingers; the perfect bow of her lips, soft and giving beneath my own; the small scar in the shape of a bird just beneath her collarbone and the quiet gasps that escape when I run my tongue along it.
I cursed the Makers the day I laid eyes on her beside that stream, running for her life but also prepared to stand and fight for it, because I knew, I fucking knew in that instant, that I was gone.
I hated them for making me so drawn to her the moment she shifted her shoulders back, fire in her eyes, ready to do battle with the men trying to take her.
Warrior, my mind had whispered, a true warrior to her core.
It was the opposite of what I’d envisioned the Flame of Lyanna to be.
Stories and songs had painted her as a cruel, cold-hearted bitch who looked down on anyone and everyone, who was selfish and spoiled, someone who didn’t deserve the Gift she was given.
I’d been all too happy when word of her journey to Marrowood reached my ears, the rumbling among Hunters about the outrageous bounty that would come from her capture.
And to find that I could collect her myself?
A boon from the Makers themselves, I’d thought.
I was fucking eager to put her in her place, to teach her a little bit about the real world outside of her palace walls, to watch her struggle to be powerless and cold and dirty, to hear her complain and curse me and mine to the depths of the seven hells, and I’d grin all the fucking while as she did.
Imagine my surprise when she did none of that.
She was cold and callous, sure, but it never seemed like it was truly her.
She didn’t try to hurt anyone within my camp, though she clearly could have, skilled as she was at fighting—another surprise.
She didn’t attempt to unleash her power and burn us all to ash when I’d taunted her to try time and time again.
Slowly, her coldness began to thaw. Only with Mia at first, then with Dessa and some of the others.
And when she clawed at those stones, desperate to get to Mia and the others until her fingers were bloody, broken messes, I knew that everything I’d been told about this woman had been a lie.
I didn’t understand why, why she felt she had to pretend to be so awful, but there must be a reason.
We all have our secrets and play our parts, after all.
Against all the odds, and admittedly, my better judgment, I let myself give in to that immediate connection I’d felt from the first moment, that draw that lured me to her like a moth to the flame.
I grew closer to her, finding myself noticing every fucking detail, missing her every second I wasn’t nearby.
I used to mock those fools that spoke of intervention from the Makers when it came to matters of love, that they made plans for us all and that things happened for reasons they demanded.
It was utter bullshit. Children’s tales. Ridiculous.
Now, I understand it all. Now, I realize that I was the fool.
She was meant for me. I was meant to find her that day, meant to bring her into my life.
She is the piece of me that has been missing all these years.
When I’d finally given up all pretense and kissed her that night—and more.
Great fucking Makers the more of that night is a constant memory at the forefront of my mind.
The way she moaned. The way she tasted. The feel of her losing herself completely on my tongue.
Even now, a slow shudder rolls through me at the thought.
When I’d finally crossed that line and she hadn’t hesitated to leap headlong across it with me, I knew that we were truly fated by the Makers.
And we barely fucking had time. I curse the Makers now, for that.
How cruel to show me a glimpse of the heavens I was supposedly promised only to snatch it all away before we’d even had a chance to truly begin, before I had the chance to tell her the truth of it all, not just my feelings, but all of it.
She deserves to know. I guess she will, eventually, but I wanted to be the one to explain it all, to make her see…
I take a deep breath and share a look with Dessa. She’s my oldest and dearest friend and though I know she’s beside me because she has the heart of a warrior and wouldn’t be anywhere else, I still feel responsible for what’s about to happen. My chest clenches thinking of Mia.
She knows what I’m thinking, as she always seems to, as she always has.
I wouldn’t have survived the horrors of childhood if not for her.
She presses her lips into a thin line, sorrow filling those icy blue eyes, but then she inclines her head, telling me without words that it’s alright and that she’ll find me again when we cross over.
“The mountains do not move.”
I give her a sad smile, and finish the battle cry we made up as children, fighting imaginary foes with wooden swords in her father’s armory, raging imaginary battles across the mountainsides. We’ve brought it with us into every fray since. It’s only fitting that it’s with us at the last.
“And the dragons do not yield.”
I hold her gaze for a moment longer and turn to look out across the plain to my enemies once more.
Accepting death and giving up are two entirely different things, so the cold calm of battle settles over me, and I grip the pommel of my great sword, sending up a quick prayer to Brienne, the Maker of war, despite me cursing her brethren only moments ago.
I will cleave through all the seven hells to try to get back to Tess.
I tense as their archers let their arrows fly, a whole sea of them sailing towards us.
“Hold!” I roar, knowing there’s nothing else we can do. Those that fight with shields raise them, hoping to ward off the worst of the blows, but I know this first strike will take many of my men. I commend their souls to Noxum and ask that he watch over them.
Startled gasps and curses ripple through my army, unlike them even in the face of death, and a moment later, I see a figure burst forth from the front line a few yards to my right, and my heart freezes in my chest. Long, red hair billows behind her like a banner of war as she races forward.
No.
“What the fuck!?” Dessa breathes, fear etched on her fierce, beautiful face.
No, no, no. She can’t fucking be here. What in the seven hells is she doing?
? Even if she can burn some of their line, she can’t destroy the whole of the army.
There are at least a thousand, maybe more.
Even if she destroys some of them, then she’s here, in the middle of a fucking battlefield and I can’t protect her and why would that fucking cat let her do this and I can’t fucking breathe.
“TESS!” I roar just before she slides to her knees across the frozen ground and…
I rear back as if I’ve been struck. Her Gift rips through my walls with unreal ease—I hadn’t even thought to let it down, too much whirling through my mind to focus—and…ice bursts forth from her extended palms.
Ice. Not fire. Fucking ice. A great wave of it, turning into a solid wall as it sails across the tundra and through Amon’s forces. The few that managed to scream only get the luxury for mere heartbeats before the sounds cut off as if they’ve been severed with a blade—quick and clean.
It only takes a few moments for the entirety of the army to be entombed in a block of ice miles wide and just as thick.
All. Of. Them.
A thousand men, at least. The power is unlike anything I've ever seen, but...
“What the fuck?” Dessa whispers from beside me, eyes wide and incredulous, but I barely spare her a glance.
I’m already sprinting for Tess. Blood pours from her nose and she sways.
Soren leaps towards her, sliding beneath her before she can hit the ground and cushioning her fall with his big body.
I’m there a moment later, gathering her into my arms.