Chapter 59
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
We reach the center of the Eldergrove quickly, as if Andraste knows the dire circumstances, is pushing herself to her limit for me.
Given the size of the beacon oak in the human realm, I expect to see branches bursting above the greenery.
Instead, they’re nestled within the lush carpet of yews and alders, birches and pines.
I realize why moments later, when Andraste sinks below the canopy, following the oak’s trunk into a deep, wide depression in the forest floor.
On the bottom, we land on terrain similar to that in the cave near Stillwater. A few vanguard moths mill about, alighting on moss-covered stones and thick branches. There’s a welcome addition on this side, though—milky, bubbling hot springs tucked between the tangled roots.
Lachlan helps me off Andraste’s back, and she swivels her head around, squawking indignantly at the blood matting her feathers and fur. She launches into the air, twisting through the branches. Maybe she’s trying to give us privacy. More likely, she’s off to get clean.
We watch her go, and then …
It’s just us.
“Come,” he says softly, taking my hand and leading me over to a steaming pool.
The gorge darkens, the sun so low in the sky above that its beams cannot reach us. The shimmering golden moss coating the stones, branches, and roots glows faintly, offering us just enough light to see by.
Lachlan stands me at the edge of the pool and removes my boots.
He leaves me in my chemise, the heat of the water warming my limbs while he undresses.
He unstraps the armour at his shins and forearms, then his breast and back plates.
Mail tinkles as he lifts it above his head, and soon, he’s in nothing more than a thin cotton tunic and loose leather trousers.
He leans down to strip off my chemise, then takes my hand and helps me into the water. It stings against my cuts, but the pain is outweighed by the relief of my muscles loosening.
There’s a flat stone on one side, where he encourages me to sit as he kneels on the edge behind me. He washes the blood from my hair and body, cleaning the deeper cuts that will take longer to heal. He tears strips from his shirt to bandage them.
His silence has always had so many shades; right now, it’s sacramental. As if this is a purification.
I do not deserve it.
I close my eyes and dip my head back as his fingers circle my scalp. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
He snickers softly. “I am a kind person.”
I grip his wet forearm and open my eyes to look at him.
God, look at him.
I tug gently, the barest request before he’s stripped down to golden, tattooed flesh. He sinks into the pool beside me.
I do not speak as I clean his wounds, a far shorter task. I run my thumb down the slash on his cheek, try again. “How do you not hate me? I rejected you. Broke your heart.”
His eyes brim with sad affection as he breathes out, “Charlotte.” He flattens his palm against my chest, over the swell of my left breast. “I knew you were going to break my heart the moment you arrived in the Otherworld.”
He takes my hand, places it upon his own heart. “I’d let you break it a thousand times more for the privilege of knowing you.”
My fingers curl against his chest, my throat thickening, so painful beneath the bruises. “Lachlan, I—”
He shushes me, those low soothing tones, my very favorite in his vocal repertoire. “I know. It’s alright.”
My vision blurs as drops plink into the bubbling water. “I wish we had more time. It wasn’t enough.”
He smiles, and there’s no sadness in it this time. Only the purest, most profound joy. “I’m grateful for every minute.”
“Even the minutes I was teasing you?”
He laughs, cupping my face. “Especially those.”
“I cannot live without you.”
“You have before.” He kisses my forehead. “You will again. As soon as you walk through the archway, you’ll forget all about me.”
I shake my head. I don’t want that. Not at all.
I would rather carry this grief until the end of my days than forget a single breath I took beside him.
I surge forward, and he meets my fervor. I kiss him, burrow into him, tangling my arms around his waist. I want to take him with me.
How cruel the gods, both his and mine, to offer me a man who’d choose me and not allow me to choose him in return.
He pulls me into his lap, parting my thighs around his waist, and I brush his hair back from his face. Chest to chest, I hold his gaze as he pushes into me.
We flow together, whispering devotion onto each other’s flesh. It’s precious and fleeting and all the more painful for it. We try to make it last because it’s the final—
No, I will not say it. Will not think it. I’d rather die here in his arms as he moves inside me, savoring the taste of him.
“Lachlan,” I pray against his lips, and he squeezes me closer, burying his face in my neck, as close as I am to letting go. “I love you. I will love you always. Even when I have no name to give my sorrow.”
I don’t let him say it back. Penance for my rejection. Instead, I claim his mouth as he shudders up into me and we tip over the edge together.
As we’re drying off and I’m slipping on my chemise, there’s a crunching pop behind us.
A thick root by the base of the trunk bends and stretches upward.
Here in the Otherworld, it fills in the opposite manner—the sparkling golden glow blotted out by a spot of darkness that expands until the entire archway is limitless black.
An ice-cold burn sears my finger, and I hiss as the ring starts slipping off. Lachlan takes my hand and offers me the vial. I swallow the liquid; it’s cool and flavorless.
My lungs seize, and I clutch my chest as agony rips through me—the novillum seed tearing the magic from my veins as the supernatural pressure of the Otherworld bears down. I stagger into Lachlan, who guides me toward the archway.
The ring nestles between our clasped palms, as if he’s fighting to hold it there, to keep me alive until we reach the door, and I can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe.
I want to tell him again. That I love him. I want to tell him so many times that he saves each utterance, buries them beneath his skin so he can cut one out whenever he needs to hear it.
But the words won’t form, my voice is gone, and the archway is about to close.
He pushes me backward and I know the moment my back crosses between our worlds. Soft relief spreads through me, easing all my pain. Even the pain of leaving him. Once again, I am a formless spirit floating through an endless pocket of warmth and peace.
It closes around my body, crawling up my outstretched arm as I cling to his hand.
He gently unwraps my fingers.
“By the life in my veins, by the will in my heart, by the persistence of my soul, I choose you, Charlotte Emilie Fitzroy. I am yours, forevermore.”
He kisses my hand, then pulls the ring off. Swirling in the center of it is the tiniest speck of light, like a crumb from a shattered diamond.
He hands me my sketchbook as I fall back through the archway.
Back to the human realm.
Where I forget that he ever existed.