Chapter Thirty-Five
Bellamy
G one. How was she simply gone ?
Henry was speaking. I could see his lips moving, but I heard nothing other than the voice in my mind telling me that Asher was never coming back.
My heartbeat became a war drum, every breath a battle cry. My hands flexed and stretched, bunching into fists before repeating the cycle. I was dizzy with the fury, the anguish, the terror.
Something happened to her. Someone took her.
My head swam with the many scenarios she could be suffering from, and I knew that if I did not go, I would kill every single person on this damn base.
The wind picked up, a large boom sounding as a fissure in the ground crawled between my legs, spider webbing out. Screams came from the buildings behind me, the residents of Pike unknowingly witnessing their prince and general fall apart.
When I saw red, I portaled, landing at the base of the farthest mountain and letting free a piercing scream as my power burst out of me. My body lit, fire burning through snow and making me sink into the ground. The mountain quaked, the sound of rock exploding above like nothing I had ever heard before. Still, I screamed, lifting my arms and leaning my head back. If there were gods watching, I wanted them to know just how deeply I cursed them.
Rock and snow rained down on me, but I gladly let it, drawing a wind large enough to shove the debris forward, shattering the rest of the mountain. When my scream finally stopped, I was bleeding from the rocks that had made it past the wind and chest deep in snow.
And I was not even close to done.
***
The first week was bad. But the second week? This was torture.
Asher was one for dramatics. We all knew it, and we loved her more for it. But in my heart, I knew this time was different. Somehow, we all did. Whatever occurred in the Temple of the Gods was not Asher being Asher. There was only so much I could do, though, because the siege on Isle Shifter was quickly approaching.
“I have to be there. He will not just listen when you tell him to come. He is not a dog!” Farai was yelling at me, again. Just as he had every day since I told him that we would be securing Jasper. Now, with Asher missing, I thought I might better understand the utter panic that came from not knowing if the love of your life was safe. That did not mean he was not getting on my nerves, of course. Really, he was doing nothing but irritating me lately.
“No, he is just a large cat.” My sarcastic drawl and the casual way I leaned against the wall must have been enough to set the Shifter off because then he was screaming, his hands moving with his words. I ignored him, tuning out the sound of everything save for the voice in my head as I went through the plan once more, my eyes falling shut.
First, we would sneak into the border village of the Multiple Lands. That was where Farai and Jasper’s cottage was. Quaint, secluded, everything necessary for a quick and smooth rescue. After convincing him to come, I would portal him back to Pike and into Farai’s waiting arms.
Second, we would find the control center for their base. Farai had drawn us an incredibly detailed map, but we would still need to navigate the building with no knowledge of guard shifts or routes. Luca had been silent for days, leaving us to not only go in ignorant but also worry about his safety. Once there, if we could fight against every set of odds against us, we would take out all leadership present.
Third, we would release pages upon pages of messages offering refuge. This was the riskiest part and the one thing that the council disagreed with me on. I firmly believed that harming innocents would make us no better than the royals who sent their soldiers to slaughter demons across our realm. But the council, and even some of my captains, wanted a bloodier approach, one that would decimate the fae army.
But all I could think of were the bodies in Haven. The hundreds of funerals we held with no one but my Trusted to bear witness and say goodbye. I thought of Asher’s face as she stared out of my window in The Royal City the days following, unmoving and cradling her scarred arms. Of the way she screamed for mercy in her sleep. How she stopped speaking to those around her, losing the spark that I had witnessed flare to life on our journey through Eoforhild.
My mind stilled, hyperfixating on Asher. Her laugh, the way she wrote my name, every time she offered kindness like it was second nature. She was brilliant, strategic, commanding, and hotheaded. Asher was the most beautiful creature to ever grace our world.
And she was gone.
“Hello!” Farai yelled, waving his hands in front of my face.
I glared at him, pushing off the wall. “I understand you. I am simply choosing to ignore you.”
Without another word to Farai, I portaled away to the same place I often went. My body hit the icy waters of the Ibidem Sea, the cold locking up my limbs and pulling me under just as my eye caught sight of a ship. Odd. The water here was not suitable for sailing, wild and unforgiving—the depths as dark as the stormy gray of the clouds above.
As I let myself sink, being tossed around by the waves, I thought of how closely the color matched Asher’s eyes.
***
Everything was going horribly wrong. Deadly wrong.
Screams could be heard from every direction, but the worst were from those at the end of my blade. For every Shifter that fell, so fell a demon. Bodies were ripped to shreds, mauled beyond recognition. Fur-clad soldiers were hung by beams of light and wisps of shadow.
Death sang with glee, stealing lives so quickly it seemed as though the world was made of blood. I danced to the music, unable to stop the way my blade swung and my smile lifted.
I was everything I never wanted to be. Everything Asher loathed. Asher, who was still gone after three and a half weeks. Asher, who would sooner cut her own throat than do what I was doing.
Senseless death coated the air, and I breathed it in like a male suffocated.
Jasper was gone, their house empty and devoid of any signs of life. In fact, it looked as though the home had been long since deserted. Farai was somewhere in this mess, his cries repeating in my head like a prayer. And perhaps they had been.
We had successfully taken out the ten fae who held high enough leadership positions to be in the command center. Yet when we had finished, Henry and I walked out into a bloodbath. The demons had, against my orders, begun seeking retribution. And when we had tried to stop them, a Shifter had come at us, tackling Henry to the ground and nearly ripping out his throat. Maybe it was the thought of losing my best friend—my brother —but whatever snapped inside of me then left behind an unholy wrath.
I was furious as I took down Shifter after Shifter, their biggest weakness being their fraternization laws that separated them. Still, we were not winning. No, this was an even battle, and it was only leading to bloodshed.
A flash of brown curls caught my eyes, stealing my attention.
Asher?
The blade came and went, but the pain was delayed, like my body was attempting to resist the almost-mortal reaction to having one’s back sliced open. When the agony made its presence known, it did so in full force—a hot iron branding my back.
I fell to my knees, watching as the female with the long brown curls turned to face me before she shifted, morphing into a jaguar. As she stalked towards me, her gaze lethal and hungry, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I had been the problem all along.
***
Day thirty-nine without Asher was just as miserable as the one before.
Cyprus was not himself. He stressed about Luca’s absence even more than the rest of us, terrorizing new recruits—both mortal and demon. He was on edge, always tensing when I received a letter. There was only so much I could do to reassure him when I was also panicking.
Recovering after the attack on Isle Shifter was slow. Our soldiers were angry, ready for war, but they were also broken. We had not brought back any bodies, having to say goodbye to those lost without them. Burning bodies was crucial to sending a soul to the Above, which left too many devastated at the thought of those they loved being cursed to an endless existence in purgatory. It was a mournful two weeks of doing nothing but strategizing. The fae had not retaliated, despite the fact that we bathed their base in gore.
Farai sat in the corner, often not doing much else. He was convinced that his husband was in harm’s way, but we did not have the means to find and rescue him. Our plan had failed in many ways, but seeing Farai’s dejected expression daily was a reminder of the way absence and death haunted the present and living.
“Ash would have hated what we did,” Noe said, her head hung low and her hands clasped in her lap.
“Do not speak of her like she is dead or never coming back,” I seethed in return, finally looking her in the eyes. We stared off, both furious and overwhelmed and so, so scared.
“She very well might be,” Lian added in a whisper, looking far sadder than I would have thought possible months ago. But that was the problem with loving someone, they irrevocably altered you, a permanent shift from who you were.
“Shut up, Lian.” Henry’s chastising tone left my body humming with bitter ire.
“No, you do not get to stand up for me or protect me! It is our fault that Asher is gone, our mistakes that left her alone! You sooner should have let Farai die than take your eyes off of her, and I should have gotten to her immediately! But we fucked up! So you do not get to stand up for me or make me feel better. No one does. Because I know I deserve it all!”
Everyone looked at me in horror, so baffled by my audible outburst that they were unsure of what to do. My head felt heavy on my shoulders, my entire body swaying. When had I stood up? My sweaty palms met the wooden tabletop, catching me before I fell. I was breathing too hard, too fast. Was this what dying felt like?
“I’m sorry. I should not have said that. You are not to blame for Asher being gone, and she will be back. We…we will find her.” Even as I said the words, I had the feeling that was not the case.
In the corner, Farai adjusted in his chair, catching everyone’s attention. Guilt burned hot as coals in my chest, the culmination of so many wrongs—wishing for Farai’s death simply being the newest—boiling inside of me like a volcano ready to blow.
Every pair of eyes turned to Farai, and we all listened as he made everything infinitely more complicated and insurmountably more hopeful.
“We need Nicola. She knows things, more than just any Tomorrow. Since I’ve known her, she has had the uncanny ability to see the future without touch. Sometimes, I swear she is even talking about the past.” When he finished speaking, his white eyes looked clearer than before, like the fog had lifted and he could now see the path ahead.
“An Oracle,” Damon whispered, a collective gasp filling the room.
***
“King Trint, it is good to see you.” Henry had his full charm on as he reached out and hugged Trint, clapping him on the back. Trint smirked, likely aware that Henry was being overly kind and not bothered by it.
“Henry, you as well. And, Prince Bellamy, how are you?” It was not the words themselves, nor the handshake that grated on my nerves, but the way he sounded like he were comforting a widow.
“I am great, actually. Though I imagine I will be better upon Asher’s return. The very female who has your entire kingdom in an uproar. I imagine you are also eager for her return, are you not?”
The king’s face fell, the regret and guilt evident in his slumped posture.
Lian’s elbow met my gut, the jab hard enough to make me grunt in pain.
Damn them all.
I pasted on a horribly fake smile, clearing my throat before taking Trint’s outstretched hand. He did not feign pleasantries again, instead nodding with a forlorn look.
“They call her the Goddess of Minds. Over the last month and a half she has grown a devout following, and they claim her as the goddess for the people. Faithfuls everywhere believe that she will bring a new age—that she is our salvation. They are unaware that she is—” His words cut off, eyes darting from mine to Henry’s before continuing. “They do not know she is gone.”
“Obviously, Trint. Come on, these creatures are older than your great great grandmother, I think they are well aware of how politics work.” The man who spoke had bright blonde hair, his blue eyes nearly as light as my own. He was just as broad as Trint but shorter, his slightly weathered pale skin further contrasting him from the King of Gandry. Both men wore crowns, but Trint’s casual teal robes and black sandals were the exact opposite of the other man’s crisp military uniform in tan and olive green. The accent was familiar, if only from my studies and time running amuck across the world. This was the king of Heratt.
“Apologies, I did not properly introduce my good friend. This is King Mordicai of Heratt. As neighboring kingdoms, Gandry and Heratt have been close allies for centuries. King Mordicai has come with the desire to discuss a possible alliance between Eoforhild and his kingdom.”
If my expression was anything like my stunned mind, then I probably looked ridiculous. Judging by Mordicai’s smirk, I did. He reached out his hand, which I promptly took, his grip firmer than Trint’s.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Bellamy. Or do you prefer General Ayad?” The question sounded almost sarcastic, but I still answered with as much warmth as I could muster.
“Just Bellamy is fine. It is a pleasure to meet you as well, King Mordicai.” He released my hand when I used his title, that smirk becoming a full smile.
“Well, that is only because I was smart enough not to insinuate that your lover is dead. I am sure by the time these negotiations are over you will probably hate me even more than Trint over here.” Henry chuckled at my side, introducing himself briefly before explaining where the soldiers would reside and discussing training methods.
I remained still, unable to move from my spot. Every ounce of my strength went towards keeping myself from portaling to the sea, to the only place where I did not feel the pain of her absence. Noe had gone to Betovere in search of both Luca and Asher. So far, she had found no sign of either, though she had noted that Asher’s rooms had been left untouched and there was still talk within The Capital of her continued absence.
“We will win this war, Bellamy.” Trint’s voice broke me from my trance, our eyes locking. There was too much sincerity in them, as if he had convinced himself by sheer will that we would walk away from this fight. I nodded, hoping that he was right. “By the way, Shah sent word. It seems the fae have threatened her. Not surprising, seeing as I was told to stand down or watch my kingdom burn.”
***
“We need to attack while they are scrambling. Do you know how easy it is for them to simply replace those they lost? We have already waited too long!” Damon was far more pushy today than he normally was, especially with both Noe and Luca being gone still. The former, at least, was sending us missives. But the continued silence from Luca had everyone ready to break. Ready to fight back.
My hesitation came only from the silence of the fae after Isle Shifter. I feared that, if they did have Asher and Luca, they would harm them to punish us. Was it entirely selfish and not in the best interest of my realm? Yes, absolutely.
As per usual, I was uninterested in pretending I was anything but selfish.
Adbeel was running his fingers along his beard, eyeing the newly redone model of Alemthian. The Capital did not just house the fae royals. On the island was a large set of four buildings arranged to make a sort of square. The fae called this Academy. There resided instructors and their families, as well as every youngling who had come into their power. Though the fae did not reproduce as easily as mortals or even demons, they had been steadily growing in their numbers. There was no telling how many young fae were there. On top of that, we had to worry about the market, the ports, the guards, and all those who resided in the castle.
Too many innocents would suffer because of us. How could we do that again?
How could I?
“I think that we need to be patient, there is—”
“My Prince! My Prince!” The shouts came from the other side of the war room door, getting closer as whoever it was neared. I stood from my seat, my chair sliding loudly across the floor. Making my way to the door, I threw it open, catching sight of a young soldier—his silver uniform fresh and without the stains of blood. “Please, My Prince, you must come look at this.”
He was too out of breath to continue, his hands going to his knees as he gasped for air. I turned to the others in the meeting, all of them leaning in an attempt to get a better view of the commotion. I nodded to Adbeel, and he returned it, resuming the discussion as I closed the door behind me.
“Where?” I asked.
The male was so unsettled that it seemed contagious, rattling my senses. He took a deep breath, straightening his back and clearing his throat.
“The Southern border, near station eight.” Without saying anything else, I grabbed his arm and portaled us, looking around to see nothing but snow. The soldier did not acknowledge the fact that there was clearly nothing to see. Instead, he walked farther south, not so much as telling me to follow.
But follow I did.
Not even five minutes later, we approached a small crowd, all facing a large golden box. I froze upon seeing it, a sense of foreboding leaving my vision hazy. What could I do but march forward, though? These were my soldiers. They did not want to follow a terror-filled general.
Making my way to it, I took a single deep breath then put my hands on the lid. It was heavy, sturdy even. Like perhaps whatever was inside weighed enough to warrant thicker packaging. My fingers gripped the edges of the lid, hands and body shaking.
“Back up, all of you. We do not know what this is.” My orders were immediately followed, every soldier present taking large steps back to ensure their own safety. A part of me did it because I also did not desire them to see me shatter, if that was what loomed below the lid.
Lifting the lid reinforced that pit in my stomach, warning bells sounding in my head. I could practically hear my own voice shouting not to look at what was inside. Still, I opened it. And when the lid fell from my hands in shock, I wondered if the pain would ever end.
A shrill scream came from someone behind me, then they were all shouting. Luca’s body had been hacked to pieces and shoved into the box, the smell of rotting flesh and dried blood so pungent it stung my nose. He was not clothed, stripped of that final dignity even in death. They had brutally harmed him just before ending his life, made clear by the unhealed bruises and cuts and crooked bones. Chunks of his blonde hair had been ripped out, his flesh gone on some parts of his torso. His once-bright blue eyes were open, the disgrace of it all nearly ending me there.
In one of his hands, the one missing only a single finger rather than the four the other had been separated from, sat a piece of paper. I reached in, grabbing the note from his cold grasp. A sob escaped my lips, the tears falling as I read the note.
To the false prince, this is for Isle Shifter.
I read it over and over, the tears running down my cheeks and the snow soaking my knees. Henry came, his arms around my shoulders, shaking me. Then he noticed what was in the box, and the only sound was of him vomiting. But it was when Cyprus came that I made a decision. His screams pierced something in my soul, his begging and cursing and desperate denial too much, shattering all that was left of the good within me.
Looking up at Henry, I met his bottle green eyes and said the one thing I had been convinced I never would. “It is time we destroy that fucking gilded island.”
***
I stared up at the stars from the top of the mountain, my upper body bare. Tremors racked through me as the cold bit into my skin, but all I could do was look at the night sky. My eyes burned and my chest ached as I finally found my voice after nearly an hour of wordless begging.
“I cannot exist without her. In her absence, the air does not reach my lungs and my heart struggles to beat. She is everything . Please, give her back to me,” I pleaded to the stars—to anything that would answer. They shone in the sky, twinkling like the world was still a beautiful place. But how could it be when Nona and Pino and Luca were dead? When Asher was gone? “Please.”
I was met with only silence.
***
Jolting up, I let out a shout of terror, my chest rising and falling too rapidly, as it always did now. But this—it was different.
I felt it. Her.
Nearly falling after I leapt out of my bed, I stumbled my way to Henry’s rooms, slamming my fist on his door repeatedly until he threw it open with a growl of frustration. With an unnecessarily hard shove, I forced my way into his rooms, pacing across the wooden floors.
“Bell, what is it?” Noe asked from the doorway. I did not look up at her, my eyes focused on the ground as I waited. After another minute or two, she let go.
With wide and crazed eyes, I looked between the both of them. My hand flew to my chest, gripping the cotton shirt as if it would slow my heart. Neither of them spoke though they both seemed to be on edge. It had only been two days since we were sent Luca’s remains, so it was expected that they would fear I had lost my mind. But I had not. Yet.
“Asher. She touched one of our notes. I felt it.” Disbelief colored my words red, painting them as the danger they were. Because if this was not Asher but a trap instead, then I would be risking our entire base—perhaps even the whole of the realm. They seemed to think the same thing, if their unsure gazes and the slightly judgmental purse of their lips were any indication.
“How do you know it is not a trap?” Noe finally asked, cutting through the tension with a dull stick.
“I do not know that.” I thought about shrugging but could not muster the energy needed.
“Just call it back to you. We can stop any danger that comes from it.” Henry, who was rarely the moderator, sounded just as tired as I felt. None of us were sleeping well, nor were we functioning during the day. We had lost so much so quickly.
I nodded, holding out my hand and beckoning the item to me. The darkness coagulated around my palm before abruptly dissipating, leaving only a gently folded note in my hand. Noe gasped, running towards me. Henry made his way closer, steps measured and full of the nerves we were all being consumed by. When I opened the note, my hand immediately covered my mouth, trying and failing to stop the tears.
I am okay. Please do not slaughter innocents or freeze over entire villages. Trust that I will come back to you as soon as I can.
I love you.
Noe, her own tears flowing, wrapped her arms around me. Her fingers massaged the back of my head, and then Henry was holding me too, all three of us crying so hard we could barely stand. Through it all, I said the same four words over and over again.
“It is her handwriting.”
***
Luca’s funeral was quaint, a small affair where only those closest to him came to pay their respects. Cyprus had spent most of the afternoon with his parents and Luca’s dad, the four of them practically in a constant embrace.
Luca’s father did separate from them eventually, walking towards me with what looked to be purpose. I wondered how long it would take him to confidently call me out for sending his only son to the enemy’s territory, especially when we now knew that Asher had not been there. At least, she likely had not. Her note did not smell like Betovere, the ink slightly different than what the royals used. Which meant I had been the cause of the death of a male who had been like a brother to me.
“Bellamy,” his father said, reaching out his arms to pull me into a hug. I returned the gesture, surprised by such kindness when I had a feeling the conversation would end with him cursing my existence. We stayed like that for a while, just holding one another. I listened as he sobbed, waiting for the shoe to drop. “First my wife, and now my son? The world is far crueler than I ever thought.”
“I am so sorry for what I did. I never should have sent him. If I could take his place, I would. More than anything, I wish that I could somehow trade my life for his.” My voice broke, fingers forming fists upon Jeremy’s back. “Luca. He was better than most—better than me. You raised one of the best males I have ever met.”
He released me then, using his hands to push me from him—those blue eyes looking so much like his son’s that I felt sick. When he shook his head, gripping my arms tighter, my heart sank. I tried to apologize again, but he cut me off with a raised hand.
“I do not blame you, Bellamy. You gave my son, a creature that many feared, a chance. We wraiths are not loved, nor are we trusted, but you took him in. Despite his age and his magic, you accepted him. In fact, he used to call you all his second family, and I can see how true that is in your eyes. Please, do not blame yourself. He loved what he did. He loved you.” The tears flowed faster down his face as he tugged me into him again, this time patting my back as I let the pain devour me.
“Eighty-two was too young. He deserved better. I will give those who did this to him ten times the pain. They will suffer. I promise you that, Jeremy.”
He stepped away, inhaling a mouthful of air before nodding and walking back to Cyprus. I stayed alone for the remainder of the funeral, not even Noe coming up to me. One day, I would thank them for affording me space, but that would not be today.
After the pyre had been built and lit, we said our goodbyes to Luca, another unfair farewell. More that my parents had taken from me—from us. We had begun plans to obliterate The Capital, spending more time than even I cared to admit trying to decide how to save at least the younglings.
Regardless, the golden palace would fall.
***
The paint was dry.
Had I been sitting here that long?
It felt like seconds since I began the piece, Asher’s eyes staring back at me as if to say, “Yes, dimwit, it has been that long.”
Winona, Pino, and Luca’s gazes were not much kinder.
Because I had spent an unspeakable amount of time in this room, I decided it was probably best to clean up. Last night, I had taken to smashing most of my art that resided within these four walls, which left me with ripped canvases galore.
Bending down with a sigh, my fingers only just grazed the shredded cloth when I heard the door swing open.
“Bell!” Henry’s voice was startling after so many hours without any sound. I turned to see him racing towards me, waving a piece of paper around like a lunatic.
For a split second, I thought he was attempting to use Asher’s note to cheer me up, which was ridiculous and also likely to work, but then I caught the look in his eyes. Whatever was in Henry’s hand had him flustered and excited, a dangerous combination in times like this. When he stopped in front of me, I eagerly tried to look at the correspondence, leaning my head and snatching it from his hands. But I did not need to, because Henry was quick to summarize it for me.
“It is from Genevieve. Bell, they have Ash.”