38. The Rescue – Rosemary
The Rescue
ROSEMARY
The silence shattered first, splintering like ice beneath a hurried boot.
Then came the light, not warm or golden, but stark and violent, a white glare that burned against the black I’d lived in for weeks.
My body recoiled, too weak to flinch properly, and my heart stuttered in my chest as my back scraped against the stone.
Shouts rose beyond the iron bars. Steel on stone, breathless commands, the sickening crunch of impact.
I squinted through the haze, my vision smeared and blinking against the harshness, until the shapes sharpened.
Elias moved like a storm, all fury and precision, his blade catching flashes of light as it struck out at something that recoiled and writhed—the echo, no longer bound by form, its limbs shifting shadows, its claws glistening like wet ink and bone.
The echo shrieked a sound that sliced through the chamber like a rusted blade.
Its limbs twisted impossibly, black smoke trailing from where Elias’s blade had struck true.
But the thing wasn’t retreating. It lashed out with claws that sang through the air, catching only stone as Elias ducked low, pivoting with a hunter’s grace.
Another figure fought beside him, a man built like Elias, though broader in the shoulders, his movements just as lethal but rougher.
The two moved in tandem, blades flashing, shadows writhing with every strike.
I blinked hard, forcing my bleary eyes to follow the blur of motion. Then something caught my attention, a flicker of movement along the wall of the stairwell, and my breath caught in my throat as I tried to lift my head. Briar? It couldn’t be, could it?
Was this another dream? Another trap? My thoughts moved like molasses, heavy with fear and disbelief.
I curled tighter against the wall, my breath hitching as the echo’s shadow swelled and stretched, threatening to swallow the only light I’d seen in weeks.
It was another lie though. A false hope. It wasn’t real.
I closed my eyes, tuning it all out, even as a horrendous wail tore free of the echo. Weapons clattered to the stone, and I felt the light approaching. My fists closed around my ears as I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.
“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.”
"Rosie," she called, and her voice was exactly as I remembered, musical and warm. Briar appeared, tears glistening in her eyes like captured starlight.
"No," I whispered, pressing harder against the stone wall. "You're not real. You're not real."
Another voice, deeper and achingly familiar. Elias stepped into view, his storm-gray eyes locked onto mine with fierce intensity. "I know you think we're not real. After what she did to you, how could you trust anything you see?"
"I can't," I sobbed. "I can't look at you because if you're real and then you disappear again...” The thought was too terrible to finish.
"You won't lose me," he said firmly, moving closer to the bars. "We're here now."
"What was the first thing I said when we met again?" I demanded, testing them.
Elias smiled. "You asked if I was stalking you. Then threatened to stab me with your dagger."
Despite everything, I attempted a smile, even as I felt my dry lips split as it stretched. The echo had never captured his humor.
"You're real," I breathed, dragging myself closer to the bars. "You're actually real."
"We're real," Briar confirmed, her hand finding mine through the narrow gap. "We're here, and we're going to get you out."
"The lock," I said urgently as iron burned my skin. "You need to break it somehow."
The male who had helped Elias defeat the echo appeared, his hands beginning to glow with dark magic.
He bowed his head as he spoke in rushed words, an odd look of affection in his emerald gaze as he briefly held mine.
"Rosemary. You probably don’t remember me.
I’m Darius. Elais’s older brother. Stand back. This might get unpleasant."
Shadows poured from his fingertips, flowing around the lock with grinding sounds. The iron began to corrode and crack until, with a sound like breaking glass, the lock crumbled to dust.
The moment the cell door opened, I stumbled forward on unsteady legs. Elias caught me as I fell, his arms wrapping around me with fierce protectiveness.
"I thought you were dead," I sobbed into his chest. "I watched her magic tear through you."
"I know," he murmured into my hair. "But I'm here now. We're here now.”
Through the mate bond that no longer needed to be hidden, I felt his relief, his desperate love, his fury at what I'd endured. The connection between us blazed like starfire, and for the first time since my capture, I felt whole. Complete.
"I felt you," I whispered against his chest. "In the darkness, when I thought I was going mad, I felt you searching for me. I didn’t truly believe it could be real, but at the time, it was the only thing that kept me sane."
His arms tightened around me. "Always," he promised. "I will always find you, princess."
His scent surrounded me, pine and winter air and something uniquely him that no illusion had captured. I breathed him in desperately.
"Stop calling me princess," I said against his chest.
He pulled back, eyebrow raised. "But you are a princess. And I think I've earned the right to call you whatever I please."
"Shut up before I throw you back in that fountain," I threatened weakly.
"Please do," he replied, eyes twinkling. "Though I should warn you. I've learned to swim."
Briar's soft voice drew my attention. "Rosie. May I?"
I nodded, and she closed the distance in three quick steps.
Her arms came around me with fierce love, and I collapsed into them, my strength failing me at last. I hadn’t eaten anything untainted in weeks, and the only water I’d had was the slow drip of dust-laced damp from the ceiling.
My legs buckled, but Briar held fast. My legs buckled, but Briar held fast. She smelled like the rose soap I still made for her—the one she loved—and like growing things, like the garden we'd left behind. Like home.
"I love you so much," she whispered. "I'm so proud of your strength."
"I would do it again," I said without hesitation. "Every moment of it if it meant you were safe."
"We need to go," Darius said urgently. "The guards will notice soon."
Briar’s hold on me tightened. “She can’t even stand,” she whispered, panic threading through her voice. “We can’t ask her to run like this.” Her eyes darted toward the door as if she could already hear the boots coming.
I felt the weight of my own body, how hollow my limbs were, leaden with exhaustion. Then Elias cursed softly under his breath, as if remembering something long buried. He reached into his pocket and pulled free that squat little bottle, its red liquid catching the low light like garnet in snow.
“Guess it wasn’t such a useless potion after all,” he said, crouching beside me with a crooked grin.
I rolled my eyes, but the edges of my mouth twitched despite myself.
With trembling fingers, I took it, lifted it to my lips, and drank.
It tasted of rosehips and stubborn hope.
Warmth bloomed in my chest almost instantly, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, chasing the numbness from my limbs.
Strength returned, not fully, but enough; enough to move, to run, to survive.
I knew it wouldn’t last. The crash would come later, sudden and cruel, like the snapping of a bowstring.
But I didn’t have the heart to tell Elias that part.
As we prepared to flee, something fundamental shifted inside me. The despair was still there, but it no longer felt absolute. For the first time in longer than I could remember, hope felt real. And it felt like something tangible. Something I could hold onto.
As we made our way through twisting corridors toward freedom, I marveled at the simple miracle of walking beside my sister, of feeling Elias's hand, warm and steady, in mine.
We emerged into the crisp air of night, and I tilted my face toward the stars above with gratitude so profound it felt like prayer.
But even as relief flooded through me, I could feel the queen's presence pressing against the edges of my mind like a storm front moving in.
The cottage felt impossibly far away, not just in distance, but in time.
I was no longer the woman who had tended herbs in peaceful gardens.
The darkness I'd absorbed, the torture I'd endured, had changed me into something harder, sharper.
“The woman who returns to that cottage,” I realized, “won't be the same one who left it.”
Elias squeezed my hand, and through our bond, I felt his understanding.
We were all transformed now, shaped by choices we'd been forced to make.
The only question was whether we'd learned to wield that transformation as a tool for healing rather than harm.
The war wasn't over, but I had my family back.
And that made victory possible.