Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Night came too soon. Helaina swore she could feel her heart beating out of her chest, that pulsating rhythm torturing her inner ears. It was unsettling being out past the shield this long. Her nerves were eating her alive.
Everyone slept, aside from Cedric and Teirn. They had posted themselves at the center of the camp, dressed in their full iron armor, swords sheathed at their sides. She could hear their howling laughter in the distance.
When was the last time she laughed? Or even genuinely smiled? She couldn’t recall.
She had smiled with him, though, laughed with him. Helaina clutched her stomach at the nausea that rolled through along with those memories.
I will find you again, Helaina Ironblood. That is a promise.
She shook the past away, shook him away.
The tent was small and comfortable, located a reasonable distance from the rest of the servants and soldiers. Laurelai had come to check on her earlier. Helaina had shooed her away.
She lay awake, staring up at the faint wrinkles in the canvas above, her thin fingers tracing circles on the cotton blankets spread over her nightgown.
She took in a deep breath and released it out into the night in a calming sigh.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to visualize their faces.
She imagined Adriel’s smile, her sister’s laugh.
Not the fake laugh she gave their parents.
The genuine witch’s cackle that sounded when Krysta thought something was truly outrageous.
Helaina missed it. Krysta only laughed like that when it was just the two of them, because letting anyone else hear it would be embarrassing.
She reflected on the words of her father. I’m weary of the burden you bring.
Her death would be considered a blessing from Hureus, a gift from the God of Mercy.
She secretly hoped people would find out. About the third Ironblood child, who had been kept under lock and key. How the three children had fallen one after the other.
Let her family’s name be dragged through the mud. Let them say their bloodline was hexed from the start.
“Strength, Fealty, Family.” She let out a mocking laugh as she read the words upon her family’s crest imprinted on the tent flaps along with the image of a sword cloaked in maroon cloth.
The Ironbloods deserved to disappear.
She still had so many questions. Maybe she would find answers in the ether realm.
She was done waiting, she would do it now, before she lost the nerve.
She leaned to the side of her makeshift wool mattress and pulled the knife from the slit in her boot. The metal gleamed, reflecting the light of the small lantern.
She blew out the light, cloaking herself in complete darkness as she lay back down. She clutched the blade between her breasts as her eyes fluttered closed.
She imagined that place in her dreams, that dark room. That lonely place vacant of duties, of feeling, of life. She could picture it in her mind’s eye.
She no longer feared it, she ached for it.
That wicked heartbeat of hers began pounding harder, like an approaching war drum.
No last words were necessary. No need to write a note. Her family gave her no farewell; she would give them none.
The note, Adriel’s note.
Even now she didn’t want to read his parting words. That wasn’t her brother in the end. But the idea of having his words close as she ended things gave her comfort. She turned to reach for the foot of her bed.
Suddenly, she realized it had turned quiet outside—no voices, no laughing. Where were Cedric and Teirn?
She rose and moved to the entrance of the tent to peer out. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the distant tree line. She could have sworn she saw something moving there. Between wind-rustled leaves and shadows in the firelight, she saw it—glowing red eyes staring back at her.
She dashed back to her pallet, tucking under her covers once more, still clutching her knife.
This was it. They had come for her again. She was too late.
She closed her eyes tight.
Please, not like this.
She was so caught up in her own dread, it took a moment to notice the cool steel resting at her throat. Her knife was still on her chest, clasped hard between her blanching fingers.
She opened her eyes to the shadow of a hard face, a man’s face.
Dark eyes stared down at her, not red.
She shifted back to survey the massive body that had maneuvered its weight to hover above her.
“I’m going to need you not to scream,” his deep voice whispered.