Chapter 27
My sister doesn’t come back.
Not in a minute, or ten, or even in an hour. I lie sprawled on the floorboards, staring at the empty span of air she went through, not caring that a splinter jabs into my knee or that my feet have gone numb.
I only care about Carina returning. About Amriel stepping from the air with her, safe and whole, his gyre glimmering in his hand.
About him aiming those dimples down at me, smirking like he always does, then taking me away to Velindra forever.
Whisking me back through the door I longed to go through.
Except he doesn’t. Nothing happens at all. Seconds crawl over me like worms while shafts of sunlight move across the floor. I swallow and swallow and swallow, but nothing can budge the collection of razorblades lodged in my throat, a new one every minute.
Because goddess, if Carina had saved him, it would have taken her only moments. If Amriel were alive right now, he would have come to me.
Tears pool in my throat, then leak from my eyes in silent streams. I don’t have the energy to sob; there’s not enough of me left. I just bleed out, then list onto my side, a broken shell with nothing inside.
Ishanna help me. No fae should lose their mate, but no human should, either.
I don’t know if I can stand it.
I drift. The rooms blurs, or spins, or ceases to exist, or…it doesn’t matter. I don’t care, can’t tell, can’t even feel my body anymore.
Eventually, someone finds me. Or several someones. Evelyn is there, and maybe Brynne, but the sounds coming from their mouths won’t resolve into sentences. A disjointed whirl of words and movement surrounds me, one I have no part in.
Indecent, someone says—a woman, I think. Look. Her clothes. Improper. Violated.
Barren laughter erupts from somewhere inside me, because those words mean nothing. They weigh less than air, when meanwhile, Amriel’s dying words crouch on my chest like boulders, pressing me into the floor.
Stay ‘til it’s over. Promise.
Only I didn’t stay. I failed him. I let him die in agony.
And I hate myself for it.
Someone lifts me. I consider fighting, but what does it matter?
My mate is dead. Gone. Departed from this world.
Someone else calls my name, over and over, but I can’t answer.
My head flops as the world smears past and then someone peels my clothes off and hot water swallows me up.
My hair is washed, my body scrubbed. At that, I do fight, because this is all I have left of him—his essence, still clinging to my skin—but my protests are so feeble that my attacker suppresses me with ease.
She cleans me. Strips him from my body by force, and I weep.
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
Can’t breathe.
I drift. Submerge into darkness for a time.
When I open my eyes again, I lie in my bed, a long nightgown encasing my frame, the fabric restrictive around my ankles.
Morning light spills through the window, dousing the somber furniture with a sheen of gold.
Evelyn sits at my bedside, asleep in a chair, her mouth hanging open, soft snores emanating from her throat.
I stare. And stare. Until her eyelashes flutter and blinking hazel eyes peer back at me. Evelyn jerks upright, swipes the back of her hand across her mouth. “Sariah?”
I should greet her, but I can’t manage. “Is he…” My thready rasp fails me, and I have to go hunting to find it again. “Is he here? Did he come?”
She frowns. “Who?”
I swallow. “Am… Amri…” My voice splinters, gets lost somewhere deep in my chest, trapped in the maze of grief that holds my heart hostage.
Evelyn’s brows crook, pity welling in her eyes. “Ishanna’s breath. You can’t even say it, can you? No, he’s not here. You’re safe now. You don’t have to worry.”
Safe. Safe.
I burst into tears. I don’t want to be safe.
I want to be wild and free, to dance with the very edge of control.
I want my mate to chase me and pin me, to claim me from behind.
I want him to hoist me onto the dinner table and have me for dessert.
I want to wish on shooting stars with him, to coil in the darkness together.
I want our breath to entwine as I explore every last inch of his soul through the bond.
But I can’t do any of that, because I’ve thrown it all away. I’ve let him die.
I cry until I can’t anymore. Evelyn springs onto the bed and gathers me close, rocks me until my sobs run their course. When my crying subsides to soft hiccups, she takes me by the shoulders, peers into my face. “It’s all right. He can’t hurt you anymore. He—”
“Hurt me?” I twist away, the warmth of her grip suddenly as intolerable as cold metal against bare skin. “He didn’t hurt me, Evelyn. He…he saved me. Made me alive.”
She blinks, her brow pinching. “What?”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. They won’t come, or I don’t have them, or…it doesn’t matter. Nothing I can say will make her understand.
“Carina,” I rasp. “Is she back?”
“No,” Evelyn says slowly. “No, she’s missing. We’ve been looking for her all day, all night. Do you know where she went?”
I sniff. Drag my hands across my wet cheeks, though I don’t know why I bother. My weeping is far from over. “To Velindra.”
Evelyn stiffens, angling backward. “Velindra?”
I nod. “She went to save him. Amriel was dying, and she… I sent her to heal him.”
Something changes in her eyes. Hardens. “Sariah, you… You did what?”
“It’s okay. The fae will take care of her. They’re kind.”
Evelyn makes a choking sound, as if she can’t believe what I’ve done.
I don’t have the energy to argue. I just collapse onto the bed again.
It’s stiff, unyielding, so different than the pillowy mattress I enjoyed in Velindra.
Dust motes swirl above, and I stare into them, through them.
The fae will treat my sister well, of course, but why haven’t they returned her yet?
Why hasn’t anyone shown up by gyre? “Send someone Velindra. To go get her, bring her back. To tell me what…” I force a swallow that feels like eating broken glass. “What happened.”
Evelyn remains frozen for a few moments, then bustles out of the room without so much as a goodbye. No doubt she thinks I’ve thrown Carina into the lion’s den. Sacrificed my sister like a lamb.
But I did what I had to. And Velindra…it will be good for Carina to see.
Every Aethrolian should see Velindra.
More time staggers by, minutes and hours carving fresh hurts into my skin. I doze, and weep, and exist in some liminal space between grief and disconnection, only able to endure so much torment before my soul unpeels from my body and goes drifting toward the ceiling.
Eventually, my father arrives. He looks angry, panicked, but his agitation seems somehow meaningless, as if it’s reaching me from across a vast distance.
“You sent Carina to Velindra?” he bellows.
“Yes,” I say tonelessly, not bothering to uncurl my arms from around my knees, or to pick myself up off my side. “She was the only one who could save him.”
“You sacrificed your sister to the fae? Why? Were you hoping she’d take your place?”
I almost laugh. Of course not. I would give anything to fill that position myself. But my father won’t understand, so I say nothing.
He just keeps going, though. “She’s Graced, Sariah. Graced. She’s a Vandenore with healing magic. A precious asset for Aethrolia, and you lost her.”
An asset. I huff, but it’s frozen, not warm enough to heat my chest a single degree. When my gaze finds my father’s, it’s like looking at a stranger. A king who cares more about his assets than his children. More about Ishanna’s decrees than his humanity.
“Carina’s fine,” I tell him. “They’ll bring her back, and she’ll be better for it.”
He throws his hands up and stomps out. He doesn’t tell me he’s glad to see me. Doesn’t say he missed me.
Because he isn’t, and he didn’t.
And that’s when I realize.
I didn’t miss him, either.