Chapter 31
ALARYK
The last of the wild Elthika fled just before dawn.
And on Samryn, high in the sky, watching the shadows retreat into the lightening sky speared with blues and pinks, I felt a deep seed of worry take root.
My heartstone magic hadn’t worked on the Elthika. For the first time, I’d snapped out my power with the intent of making them retreat before there was more bloodshed, more destruction.
But what I’d felt had been concerning.
The heartstone magic that was born within each Elthika was so depleted, a mere wisp, that I’d had nothing to latch onto, nothing to guide.
It confirmed what we’d already known for years: The heartstones were very nearly spent in the Arsadia. The thalara trees from the seeds we’d cultivated in Dakkar wouldn’t grow new heartstones for another decade, unless we could somehow discover a way to speed their growth.
The Elthika were starving. They were starving to death. They needed the heartstone magic to fill that void…and there was very little left. And none would come for years. No reprieve.
What would happen then?
They’d sensed the lost heartstone in Ny’am. They’d likely wanted it for themselves, but we’d been able to defend our home. For now.
When I was certain that the wild packs had crested beyond view, I turned Samryn back around to look at Grymia.
A smoldering, smoking Grymia. Much of the farmlands had been wiped out, though the grain field closest to the village had been saved.
A surviving herd of livestock was being corralled to the landing field, the fencing having burned.
Luckily much of the village hadn’t been touched by the Redback’s flames.
And other structures that had, the villagers had been able to extinguish quickly.
The watch tower was burned, however, crumbled to the earth in a smoking pit. We had been fortunate. Though if more wild packs came, I didn’t think we’d be so lucky.
But there was something more pressing—the dread that had been present in my innards for hours, ever since I’d seen the glow of her magic.
I maneuvered Samryn down to the landing field, where most of the villagers were still milling around. Everyone was exhausted, but there was still a sense of urgency. The fires had been put out, but there were still a lot of people who were injured and plenty of work to be done.
I wondered how many were dead.
I could sense the tiredness in Samryn, his strength waning, still too quickly for a Vyrin. Though without Amaia’s influence over the curse, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the line against the wild packs for as long as he had.
I leaped from the riding seat, landing on the hard ground in a crouch before rising.
Myzalla was the first I saw, her face streaked in ash, sitting on the earth as she tried to recover for a brief moment, leaning back against her Elthika, who was sleeping—passed out—on the field.
“Where is she?” I asked.
She cast her arm out, too tired to speak it seemed, toward a group of Karag who were huddled around something. Someone.
My chest squeezed, and I ran. When I reached them, I pushed through the gathering crowd, which only parted for me when they saw who was barreling through.
A strange panic was tangling and twisting my heart.
Amaia lay on the ground, her head resting in Syris’s lap. Tarkosh and Brune were standing nearby, in the inner circle around her, but the rest backed away when I neared.
Her skin was ashen, leached of color, and streaks of dried blood were coming from the inner corners of her eyes, a familiar sight to me.
She was barely breathing, a slight rise and fall of her chest—the only thing that didn’t make me fall to my knees on the earth.
Because at first glimpse, she looked dead.
Her hands were covered in dried blood, likely having needed the physical contact with the villagers and the Elthika as her magic had begun to wane more and more.
“Let me have her,” I rasped, my voice so deep it felt like a string of growls. Syris gently eased Amaia’s head off her lap as I sat down on the earth, gently maneuvering her limp body to me.
When we’d done this the first time, she’d been awake. But nevertheless, I called up my magic for the hundredth time that night and tried to press it into her. It was met with a wall, but I kept the warmth there, like a touch, hoping it might rouse her.
“Mariss,” I whispered. “Wake for me. Let me help you.”
She didn’t stir. I touched her chest, just to be certain her heart was beating.
I felt the dull thud and closed my eyes, uncaring that there were dozens and dozens around us.
I shifted her in my arms until her back was against my chest, the earth hard beneath me as the sun crested over the taller peaks in the valley.
I kept my magic as a presence, something to guide her back to me. I wasn’t a patient person, but I had to be now. And when the sunlight finally touched my skin, I felt her shift in my arms.
“Amaia,” I murmured quickly, my heart jolting. I could hear Syris’s sharp intake of breath. When Amaia’s bloodshot green eyes blearily opened, just a fraction, I took advantage, casting my magic over her like a blanket. “Take it, mariss.”
Like she was starving, I could feel the way she grasped onto me, like I’d given her a tether to this world and she held on for dear life.
She drank in my magic, letting it fill all the aches, all the corners of pain that she’d had to absorb into her body.
I didn’t know how many she’d healed tonight.
But I remembered seeing the glow of her magic, reflecting down on the darkened battlefield—because that was what it’d become—more times than I could count.
And every time I’d wanted to go to her, to help her recharge her magic or to berate her for leaving the safety of my dwelling, another Elthika had veered for the village and we had needed to chase them down.
“That’s it,” I breathed. “Take it all.”
She gasped, like it was the first deep breath she’d been able to take all night. And while her face still looked pale and sallow, some of the life returned to her eyes and she was able to stay conscious.
“Better,” she said, her voice quiet, shaking. “Kakkira vor.” Thank you.
But I could see the pain she was still trying to shield from me, even if she was able to sit up.
“Are they all right?” she asked.
A sound left my throat. I looked up at the gathered crowd.
“Amaia,” Tarkosh said, crouching down to meet her eyes, “you saved five Elthika, four riders, and nine villagers. No one has died tonight because of you.”
No one? There had been no casualties from the attack?
I closed my eyes, a prick of relief, of gratitude swelling in me. And when my gaze flashed open, I saw the Grymian villagers had their heads bowed, a sign of respect.
When I looked at Amaia, there were tears ushering into her eyes. Clear ones. When they dripped down her cheeks, they helped wash away some of the crusted, red blood. The tears, I thought, were in relief. A weight lifted off her shoulders, perhaps, when I knew Gethrin’s death sat heavy on her.
I rose from the ground, cradling Amaia in my arms.
“She needs rest,” I said. “All of us do.”
“What if they come back?” came Dresnar’s question, his jaw tight. “I’ll take the first watch.”
I nodded. “I’ll join you, once I get her situated. But I don’t think they’ll be back today. Hopefully for a while.”
There were two dead Elthika lying on the outer fields. Two of the wild Elthika, one of them Samryn had killed, his jaws clamping deep.
I didn’t like to see any dead Elthika. It was a tragedy. They’d been desperate. I’d felt it myself. But it still didn’t change the fact that Grymia had been in danger. They could’ve killed many more of my people.
I left the landing field, knowing Myzalla would organize tasks, though I knew the priority was rest for most of the villagers. My riders had fought valiantly and endlessly tonight.
We were silent as I navigated us back to my dwelling, cutting through the village off the main road, the quickest path. When I brought Amaia inside, into the cool quiet, I released a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.
I took her into the washing room, undressing her carefully as the bathing pool filled with steaming water. Every wince she tried to hide from me made my gut twinge.
I carried her into the pool after I undressed.
Though I knew I needed to get back to the village, to help with the repairs, I would allow myself this moment with her.
I needed the brief reprieve, if only to assure myself that she was…
well. Alive. Breathing. Warm. The vision of her sprawled on the landing field was still quick in my mind.
“You’re all right?” came Amaia’s quiet voice when I settled us back, when I began to scrub at the dried blood covering her hands.
“I’m fine,” I answered, water trickling.
“And Samryn?”
I met her eyes. The green against her blood-streaked face was vibrant. “He’s unharmed.”
“Good,” she breathed.
“Amaia.”
“Hmm?”
Pausing in my scrubbing, I pressed my forehead to hers, feeling her heartbeat against me when I dragged my palm to it.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. Her breath hitched, and I saw my eyes reflected in her own. “You saved many of my people. I won’t ever forget that.”
For once, she seemed at a loss for words.
“But don’t ever do that again.”
She frowned.
I grabbed a clean cloth from a basket next to the pool, dipping it into the warm water. Gently, I dragged it against her face, trying to erase all evidence of her bloody tears and ash and grit and soot.
She took my wrist to still my actions. “I won’t ever hide again when people need me. You have to know that.”
“I asked you to stay here,” I merely said, my tone coming out harsher than I’d intended. My hand was shaking, and I couldn’t make it stop.
Amaia seemed to notice too, and she took my palm in hers, squeezing tight. “Alaryk.”
“Fuck,” I murmured softly, releasing the cloth, letting it float on the surface of the water as I scrubbed my free hand down my own face. I thought maybe the shock was catching up with me. I didn’t want her to see it.
“I’m here,” she said, taking my jaw into her hand. She pressed her lips against mine, and I immediately clutched her to me, trying to be conscious of my own strength so I didn’t hurt her accidentally. “I’m here,” she murmured against my lips. “I’m okay.”
“I saw you,” I murmured. “On the field. And I thought how easy it would be to lose you. How quickly it could happen. And it fucking terrified me, Amaia. Don’t ever do that again.”
Her eyes widened.
“I wanted to help,” she argued. “I had to. You said yourself—my magic is rare. So why not use it to help your people?”
“Because I don’t want to lose you, Amaia,” I snapped, my voice harsh and guttural, but I knew the intent of my words landed. “I can’t lose you. And it’s not just because of your damn magic.”
Time seemed to pause, like we were both holding our breath.
“It’s not?” she whispered, strangely still and rapt on my words.
“No,” I bit out.
She’d become more to me than I’d ever imagined…and I couldn’t quite pinpoint when it had even happened.
Only when I’d thought she was dead, lying listless and unmoving, her head in Syris’s lap…I’d had the dizzying sensation that I had splintered into two.
One moment into the next. One realization, and now I would never be the same.
Both of us were quiet after that, ruminating in our own thoughts, at the unspoken confession I’d just made.
Quickly, I finished up in the bathing pool, scrubbing at us both until we were clean of the grime. And only when I had her dried off and clothed in one of my tunics did I feel marginally better.
“Do you have to go back?” she asked softly, pressing her forehead into my chest, her arms coming around my waist. I was dressed in my riding vest, having just finished clasping the catches. “You need to rest too.”
“I’ll try to be back as soon as I can,” I told her. I nudged her until her face was tipped up to me. I kissed her gently, feeling her sigh. “I promise. Sleep. And don’t you dare sneak off to the hatchery. Tarkosh will handle it.”
When I pulled open the door, she said, “Alaryk.”
Looking over my shoulder at her, I raised my brow as ash danced inside.
“I was terrified for you too,” she finally said.
Our eyes held. My chest felt tight. Walking a few paces back, I grabbed her, pressing another hard kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly.
Then with a small curse, I left because I knew if I didn’t, I might never again.
Closing the door behind me, with her taste still on my tongue, I turned my sights toward Grymia, knowing there was much to be done. And though my heart was still with Amaia, I needed to be calm and focused for my people, bracing myself for the work ahead.
Halfway down the main road, I heard a rush of voices ahead. A few guardsmen were arguing in front of…
Fuck.
“What’s happened?” I growled, stalking toward them, fearing I already knew.
Jirin was the brave one to meet me, to break the news, his expression braced, his jaw tight.
“I’m sorry, Karath,” Jirin said, meeting my eyes. The dwelling behind him was dark, the door busted in by brute force, hanging off its hinge. “He’s gone.”
I could see it play out in my mind. When the Elthika had attacked, the priority had been Grymia. Not guarding a prisoner. They’d made a choice. They’d left their post to join in on the fight.
And I couldn’t even say I blamed them.
“Ryak is gone,” Jirin told me. “And we can’t find Nevin either.”