Chapter 62
Derian
The feeling isn’t something that could be adequately described by any of the dialects in the Ever Realm. Being drained by a Velkai is brutal. A kind of severing of every single part of who you are.
And somehow it’s not as painful as watching Huntyr’s eyes as she delivers a killing blow to her sister.
As Tyla falls, Huntyr falls with her, clutching her and whispering words of apology and love.
The battle rages around us, but none of us pay it any mind.
“I’m so sorry,” Huntyr sobs, the sound a broken, heart-wrenching echo. “I didn’t want to. I’m so sorry.”
Her words are slurred, laced with choked tears.
She pulls Tyla into her lap and strokes her sister’s hair as Tyla blinks up at her.
“I told her it would be you who won,” Tyla chokes, as golden light stretches up her veins the same way darkness once had. There’s a small smile quirking at the edges of her lips. “You always were the stronger one.”
Huntyr shakes her head. “You made me strong.”
Tyla nods softly, fingers slowly being painted red as she presses tightly against the wound in her belly. “You don’t need me anymore.”
“I do,” Huntyr insists, nodding feverishly. “I will always need you.”
Her eyes slide over Huntyr’s shoulder. “You have them.”
The sounds of steel against steel and grunts of exhaustion are fading away. The battle is ending, and the others are beginning to circle around us.
“You have a family now.”
Huntyr’s body shakes. All I can do is place my hand on the small of her back and hope that the simple touch is enough to ground her through this. I know it won’t be, but it’s all I can offer her.
Tyla looks at me. “It’s done now. Will you protect her?”
There’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do to protect Huntyr.
“With my life,” I promise her.
And then, with a final, shaking exhale, the light from Tyla’s eyes fades, and Huntyr’s shattered screaming imprints itself on my soul as it goes on and on without any sign of stopping.
Everything about the day is perfect.
The air is the right temperature. There’s not a single cloud in the sky. My two nephews are chasing each other and laughing in the front lawn of my favorite manor.
And I can’t seem to enjoy a single second of sitting on this porch.
I don’t think I’ll ever view this porch the same way again.
Even now, a few weeks after everything happened, Huntyr’s shaken.
She’s managed to regain her appetite, even cracked a few jokes with Taric and Cal, but that darkness lingers in her eyes.
Every night she wakes in a cold sweat from a nightmare.
Then, she crawls on top of me and begs me to help her forget whatever terror she dreamt up.
I oblige her.
I give her everything she wants and then some. Food, jewels, time alone, time with others. I do whatever I can to make this easier for her.
But we’re running out of time for her to mourn.
Since Luceron’s arrival in Springhallow yesterday, he’s been more than eager to meet the Conclave winner who is about to become a princess. I insisted he should rest and bathe before meeting his new sister, but there’s only so many ways I can delay the inevitable.
Sighing, I stand from my seat on the porch.
“Anteroi,” I bark at my elder nephew. “Go easy on your brother.”
The boys pause their wrestling only for the briefest of moments before resuming the second I turn my back and make my way into the manor.
I take the spiraling wooden staircase slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last as I make my way to the office at the end of the hall. Luceron claimed it this morning, needing to respond to correspondence.
Based on the way his brows raise expectantly when I push the door open, though, he’s been waiting for me for some time.
“Shut the door,” he commands, sounding more like a King than a brother.
I do as I’m told, pushing the wooden door until it clicks shut and then folding myself into the leather seat on the opposite side of the desk.
You would hardly know he’s been traveling for weeks. His face is still full, eyes still bright. The only indication is the way his skin is slightly tanned and the streaks in his hair that are so bright they’re nearly silver.
“You’ve been avoiding this conversation,” he accuses.
I shrug. “I’m not going to deny that.”
Luceron stands in a rush, and a cold chill spreads through the room.
He doesn’t even flinch when frost covers the glass.
He loses control over his powers like this often enough that it’s nothing new to him.
Growing up, everyone always told him it was okay.
Our parents assured him that it was normal to have power rushes when you’re a passionate person.
So, he never bothered to learn the control they forced me to develop.
“I chose a wife for you! I spent years negotiating that alliance!”
“Huntyr is a noblewoman with a sizable estate in Velia. The alliance will be respected.”
His hands slam down on the table. “And what if Seraphina had won?”
Bile rises in my throat as I picture her and remember the way she nearly took Huntyr from me. Not a single part of me misses that bitch.
“She didn’t,” I say simply, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
Luceron stares at me for a long moment before he turns away, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he looks out the window to watch his children. “I don’t know why I expected anything different from you, Derian. You’ve always operated by your own rules.”
I ball my hands into fists, forcing down the power that threatens to rise inside me. “It never seemed to bother you until you started looking at me as a pawn instead of as your brother.”
Huntyr wouldn’t have done this to Tyla, I think to myself. Tyla wouldn’t have done this to Huntyr either. They love each other unconditionally, regardless of anything else.
Loved.
Luceron sighs. “What else?”
I glance up at him with a frown.
“There’s been whispers since I arrived,” he explains. “Cal has avoided me since I got here. I’ve yet to see your betrothed. What’s everyone hiding from me?”
The war raging inside me is worse than any battlefield I’ve ever stepped on. Luceron is my brother, my King. My duty is to him above everyone else.
But Huntyr…
Huntyr is my everything.
And I made a vow to protect her.
“Sit,” I tell my brother. I want the desk between us. I want to be directly between him and the door. He looks at me with an expression that tells me he’s about to remind me of his position, and I roll my eyes before amending, “Please.”
It’s only after he’s seated and my power is at the ready that I say, “Huntyr’s not a typical Mortal woman.”
Then I explain everything that’s happened since I saw the Huntress parading as a noblewoman at a masquerade ball.