Chapter Forty-Eight #2
“She was working with my sister,” I say flatly. “They were using me to get close to Alaric’s power—so Rowenna could cut the gemstones from his wrist and take them back to Tashir.”
“Is that why he’s so injured?” Elodie looks over her shoulder at him. “Rowenna attacked him?”
I bite my lip and look down. “No, that was me…when I believed my sister’s lies.”
“I see,” Elodie says gently. “But I don’t see why Delphine would help your sister. She hated Rowenna.”
“She did. But Ro is the reason Delphine’s sister has been sick. Ro was using the girl as blackmail to force Delphine’s cooperation, so I understand why she initially betrayed me. But I don’t understand why she ran away instead of trying to help me once everything was out in the open.”
A sniffle escapes me, which feels utterly ridiculous. Of all the people who’ve betrayed me and things I have to cry about, a maid should hurt the least. But we shared so much. I thought we were friends.
“She said we were family,” I blubber, “and now she’s gone. They’re all gone.” I gesture back at Rowenna and over to Alaric, each loss more crushing.
Elodie takes my hand. “I’ll be your family. So will Alaric.”
“Not if he’s dead.” I peer at him over Elodie’s shoulder, lying completely still. I can’t even tell if he’s breathing, and I can’t bring myself to check. If he’s gone, it will shatter me, and there are already so few solid pieces left.
“Come on. I’ll be right there with you,” Elodie says. When I still don’t move, she adds, “Whether he’s alive or dead, you still want to take care of him, right?”
With a painful cry, I nod and let her lead me to where Alaric lies. I drop heavily to my knees and take his outstretched hand. It’s heavy and cold, and he doesn’t react, no matter how hard I squeeze.
“Alaric?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t move. There’s no whoosh of breath when I hold my hand over his lips.
“Forgive me,” I whimper. “I should have believed you, should have trusted you. I can’t believe you saved me and retrieved Rowenna’s body, after everything I did.”
I curl forward and rest my head against Alaric’s bare chest, thinking of our first night together on the Tomb Flats.
That girl would be appalled by the traitorous feelings I have now, by this scandalous brush of skin.
But I’m not that girl anymore, and the girl I am now wishes I could go back and tell past Indira to spend less time doubting and distrusting, and more time embracing moments like this—burrowed in the heat of his body, listening to the soft beat of his heart against my cheek.
Thump-bump, thump-bump, thump-bump.
My eyes snap open.
I turn my head and place my other ear against his chest to be sure I’m not imagining it. And there it is: the thump-bump of a heartbeat. Weak and fluttering but undeniable.
“He’s alive!” I say with disbelief.
Elodie lets out a happy shriek, and I shriek too, and for a second, we’re both laughing and crying for joy before the grim reality of our next hurdle sobers me.
“How are we supposed to get him down the mountain?” I ask.
Elodie looks down at Alaric, then up at me. “One step at a time.”
We leave Rowenna’s body on the mountaintop, for the time being, and each lift one of Alaric’s arms. Then we begin the slow and excruciating climb down the mountain, pulling his body behind us like a plow.
Our progress is slow. Alaric’s long legs catch on branches and boulders, and the weight of his limp body feels like a saw dragging across my back. There’s a good chance I’ll never stand completely straight again, but it’s worth it because he’s alive. Alaric is alive. And we’re almost there.
When the walls of the Fortress appear through the low-hanging clouds, I’m flooded with relief and the oddest sense of rightness at this reversal of roles. I’m carrying Alaric into the Fortress the same way he carried me the day I arrived in Vanzador.
Elodie and I collapse at the base of the city wall as the rising sun paints the outline of the mountains gold. We pound on the gate, shouting for help, crying for a healer, both of us too tired to think about the blood soaking Alaric’s clothes and smearing our hands, and how this might look.
In an instant, we’re surrounded by a swarm of guards, all of them shouting questions and accusations that I’m too exhausted to follow.
The only word that matters, the only word I’m capable of saying, is “Healer!” and I shout it like a madwoman until they finally lift Alaric’s limp form and rush him through the gates.
The guards come for Elodie and me next, shouting questions and making threats as they haul us to our feet.
Elodie whimpers painfully as they tie her arms behind her back.
Her eyes roll with fear as they roughly yank her forward viciously.
And I can’t let this happen. Can’t let her take an ounce of blame for any of it.
“She did nothing!” I shout. “Elodie Tomasko is innocent. She saved King Alaric!”
The guards eye me warily. “Does that mean you are to blame? Is this your confession?”
I release a breath and bob my head, despite Elodie’s horrified expression, because it’s true.
I stabbed the king of Vanzador.