Chapter 66 #3
They stood in silence, Mora squeezing her fists, enjoying the feel of warm blood seeping between her fingers.
The dregs stuck to her skin, transporting her back to Dother’s chambers.
Only this time when she looked down at those silky black sheets, she was staring into lifeless azure eyes.
Promising to make anyone who used her bleed.
Things were different than what she’d imagined that night, Castellan a different Keeper than anything she’d hoped for.
Thanks to him, peace was on the horizon, and Mora didn’t care if it made her a monster in the eyes of the rebels and the Halflings alike.
She would become their cursed queen, a promise to Berwick that any who threatened their peace would fall, with Castellan by her side, ever the gallant knight.
A king they would love. The one they’d look to for hope and guidance.
It would work.
They’d make it work.
The clash of swords rang behind her, fires crackling and hissing when water shot through flames. Though it wasn’t quite as loud as before; whatever fighting waged at her back, it slowed. Mora’s chest softened—that had to be the work of her gallant knight as well.
“Do we have a deal, boy?” she asked.
His lower lip trembled, breath hitching, but he nodded, old leaves and bits of snow crunching under his shoes while he backed away. Within a blink, he was running, pushing his legs as hard as his body allowed.
Mora turned to Jade and knelt by her side, unoffended when her lips curled.
“You smell like death.” Jade’s voice trembled, each labored breath soft and slow.
“Better me than you.” Mora eyed her wound—the arrow lodged into her shoulder, blood seeping into her tunic, staining the creamy fabric. Jade’s fingers curled around the shaft, but Mora shook her head. “We need to leave it. I can’t heal you until Castellan gives me permission.”
The woman cursed under her breath. “Where’s Imani?” Tears spilled down Jade’s face as she looked around them, searching for her love. Grunting with pain when she tried to turn.
“She was just past those trees.” Mora jerked her head toward where she’d last seen the Naturalist, hoping she was still near. The sounds of battle were replaced by Jade's harsh exhales—it must have been over. “Imani!” Mora called out. “Jade needs you!”
A branch snapped under someone’s boot, bits of leftover snow crunching as they moved closer, and power writhed beneath Mora’s skin. Ready for another fight.
“Jade...” Imani wheezed, her feet dragging as she approached.
The tension eased in Mora’s shoulders, her lips tugging up into a smile.
...Then she saw her.
Imani’s ebony cheeks were ashen, a sickly gray pallor draining the color from her skin, her half-lidded eyes barely open. Each inhale more of a choking rasp. Too many arrows stuck out of her chest, her tunic torn and soaked through with blood.
“No,” Mora breathed, a squeezing pain enveloping her heart until she felt nothing else. “I... I stopped the arrows. I...”
Imani’s foot caught a root, and she toppled, arrows snapping as she hit the ground. Mora pressed her hand to her lips, frozen in place. Imani’s breathing slowed to a stop, her body cradled by a stillness Mora remembered too well—she’d watched it take her father too.
Jade shot to her feet, her sharp sob calling to Mora’s tears. “Help her!” Jade screeched, falling to her knees at Imani’s side. She turned her love over, pressing her hands to Imani’s cheeks. “It’s okay, Mani,” she shuddered, her head bowed. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Imani’s blank, glassy eyes stared up at the canopy, to the spindly, deciduous branches and verdant evergreens. Mora approached, blinking back tears. Knowing they could do nothing.
Imani was dead.
And it was her fault.
“Help her,” Jade cried again, tears glazing her hazel eyes. “Call for Castellan, please. Do something.”
Mora sank to the ground at Jade’s side, her throat so tight she could barely swallow. “I’m sorry,” she said roughly, laying a hand on Imani’s shoulder.
Sobs rattled in Jade’s chest, her fingers clenching Imani’s tunic tighter. “No!” she screamed, tears falling like rain.
The soft piles of snow clinging to the shadows beneath the trees began to melt, water trickling toward them.
Called by Jade’s grief. Neither of them flinched when it pooled around their knees, cold as ice.
Seeping into their clothes. Tears running down Mora’s cheeks and clearing a trail through the blood painting her skin, splotches of pink spattering the puddle.
She had no idea how much time had passed when Castellan found them, his damp curls plastered against his forehead, in spite of his hood, blood dripping from his sword. The sun dipped lower in the sky, falling inch by inch toward the horizon as if it, too, longed for death.
Dropping his blade, Castellan’s steps slowed, his breath catching in his throat. Mora wasn’t sure what she expected, but the tight look on Castellan’s face wasn’t it.
“You were supposed to be there,” Castellan said, his quiet voice tired. Cold. Gray eyes simmering with so much fury they were nearly silver. “You were supposed to protect them.”
He was right—how different things would have been if Mora had gone to eat instead of playing spy... or if she hadn’t been slowed by visions of Dother.
Bowing her head, Mora nodded, trembling as she held back her sobs. “I know.”