Chapter Thirty-Seven
Talon
Talon collapsed onto the plush sofa and crossed his bare feet, wincing slightly when the scars around his ankles rubbed against one another. He ignored the burning sensation. He probably could have asked Arianna to heal them, but she had enough to worry about. They all did.
Talon leaned his head back, staring up at the white ceiling without bothering to wipe up the drink that had sloshed into his lap.
Twenty-two.
Talon closed his eyes, allowing the half bottle he’d downed in the past hour to work its magic. He was glad he’d already removed his shirt, especially with the heat engulfing the space. It was always so gods-damned hot in here.
He leaned forward just enough to take another sip before reclining back again.
Twenty-two, and here he was, having his last drink alone.
Twenty-two, and death would claim him tomorrow night.
Twenty-two, and he was spending his final night in luxury, surrounded by all the soft things he’d always taken for granted.
Talon’s jaw worked. They’d spent today in endless meetings, strategizing, and sending warriors out to quickly implement their plans.
There was no time for second-guessing. No time to question whether their plans and traps were enough.
They only had time to work through a section, make a quick decision, and pray it was the right one.
Talon laughed to himself. None of them even planned to win.
It wasn’t about winning at this point. They’d accepted their fate.
But no one was willing to go down without a fight.
All they needed was one fatal blow. One moment.
Their entire strategy centered on holding the line long enough to locate Vairik on the battlefield.
If the male even bothered to show up. If he didn’t, they’d make do with taking at least half his forces to hell with them.
“What a shit way to go,” he whispered into the silence, staring up at the white ceiling once more.
He’d always envisioned himself dying on the battlefield, his honor intact.
He thought that maybe after a few centuries of peace, once he had children and a gorgeous wife, he’d meet his end by the blade of someone faster. Stronger. Younger.
But this. There was no honor in this. They were walking into a slaughter with a fool’s hope.
They’d make an impact, sure, but there would be no one left to sing songs of their deeds.
The Fae would become one with the earth, completely forgotten by the world.
And if anyone ever did happen to uncover their bones, they’d only find the histories left by Vairik.
Who knew what the male would write regarding the final siege.
Probably something about rebels who had tried to destroy the land.
Ridiculous.
Talon took another long drink, cursing the fact that he’d left the bottle across the room. He needed to finish it if he hoped to get any sleep. They had another long day of preparation tomorrow.
Talon squeezed the glass in his hand until it shattered. He barely reacted to the shards that pierced his palm. Blood quickly mixed with the alcohol and his fresh wounds burned like he’d dipped them in fire.
He didn’t care. Tomorrow would be so much worse. There was plenty more fire to be had if Eimear’s predictions were to be believed.
Twenty-two. How dismal.
Talon reclined back, letting his hand splay out on the cushion beside him. He didn’t care that blood rolled through his fingers, staining the fabric. It wasn’t as though it would matter long anyway.
His mind drifted. Pleasant darkness opened its arms, beckoning him closer. Soon it would be an abyss he’d never wake from. Talon wondered if the forgotten gods would welcome them at shining gates that led to a blissful eternity, or turn them away for not even remembering their names.
A loud knock yanked Talon back to consciousness, chasing those peaceful shadows back into the crevices of his mind.
He inwardly cursed, no longer caring what might happen.
If Vairik was at their doorstep, the male could wait a few hours.
That’s all Talon wanted, just a few more hours to himself where he could sink into oblivion.
What would death feel like in the end? Would he feel the life fade from his body, or was it more akin to falling asleep? He supposed it depended on how the final blow landed. Anything to the neck, or he—
Another knock, this time louder. Harder.
Talon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand.
He sat forward and pulled out the largest of the glass pieces, letting them clatter to the floor before rising.
He didn’t bother with a shirt. He honestly didn’t care.
He would open the door and tell whoever stood on the other side they could piss off till morning.
Talon yanked the door open and did a double take. Adrenaline surged through him, momentarily clearing his blurry vision. He gaped, heart jolting at the mere scent of the female before him.
Raevina.
Raevina was here, standing at his door. She’d come in the wake of—no. No, Raevina wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a simpering female. If she was here, there was a problem.
“What happened?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Were the gods truly not going to grant him a single night of solace before the world ended?
Raevina just stood there with a scowl on her face. Both arms were at her sides, one hand wrapped around a small object he couldn’t identify. Heat rose to his face when he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Raevina had no problem looking him over.
“Are you going to invite me in or have me stand here all night like an idiot?”
Talon staggered back, pulling the door open wider, unable to form words.
Raevina strode inside and he closed the door, turning the lock.
She eyed him, but both knew it wasn’t to keep her contained.
Not that he could contain Raevina even if he wanted to.
Talon briefly wondered if it would be fun to try.
He watched the gorgeous female cross the extravagant space until she stood before the fireplace. Only glowing embers remained within, casting a soft glow over the back half of the room. Candles flickered everywhere else, dancing from the slight gusts created by their movement.
“It’s tidier than I expected,” she commented, staring at his folded tunic on the chair. Talon was far, far too intoxicated to have a conversation right now. He crossed the room and picked up his shirt before pulling the loose material over his head. Raevina scoffed. “I’ve seen you in far less.”
She’d seen him in nothing at all. But he’d had his wits about him then. He’d been able to show restraint. If she pressed her body to his now, he’d say damn the consequences and take whatever she was willing to offer.
They stood in tense silence. He didn’t trust his own voice. Raevina wasn’t what he’d call a patient female. She’d get to the point soon. Perhaps she was here to discuss something regarding the battle. Maybe she, too, was affected by the prospect of death.
Seconds shifted to minutes and Raevina just remained where she was, staring into the embers. Talon could feel her magic sparking through the air even if he couldn’t see it. She looked so … lost. So unlike the Raevina he’d grown to admire.
Talon stepped closer, pausing just out of arm’s reach. He was acutely aware of everything in her presence. His bare feet. His lack of a weapon. The way she basically wore an arsenal and hadn’t yet showered. Not that she didn’t smell divine.
Raevina’s eyes flickered to his feet. He hated that part of his pant leg had ridden up, revealing the brutal scarring. Something in her eyes softened. Talon clenched his jaw.
“Are those from me?” she whispered.
Talon furrowed his brow. “No. They’re old injuries.” Is that why she was here? Did she think she’d injured him in the library? He’d noticed her staring, but hadn’t imagined—
Her hand flexed slightly. “From who?”
Talon shrugged, not in the mood to play her games tonight. “Maybe they’re not from anyone.”
“I’m not a fool. Someone from Fiadh did that to you. I want a name.”
“Why? Plan to hunt them down?” She didn’t respond, but he saw a flame surge within the embers.
Raevina’s jaw worked. His heart softened.
She was here, clearly concerned for his well-being, even if she had difficulty showing it.
“It happened in Ruadhán during an ambush outside the royal city. They were after Arianna.”
“So they’re dead.” Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“They’re dead,” he confirmed.
“You were careless.”
“I was outnumbered.”
“I’ve been outnumbered plenty of times. If—”
“If you’re just here to insult me, feel free to leave.
” Talon didn’t mean the words, nor did he mean the bite behind them.
He was just so tired. Tired of all the bullshit headed their way.
Tired of longing for this female when she clearly held no feelings for him.
Maybe Arianna was right. Maybe the bond was a cage.
Raevina didn’t move. Talon ran a hand through his hair. “Why are you here?”
She remained silent for a long while before finally admitting, “I don’t know.”
He glanced over, studying the female. Raevina was someone who always knew what she wanted. She always had a direction. She never second-guessed herself. But he saw the difference in her now. The tension in her jaw and shoulders. The way she’d shifted her arms and cradled one elbow.
Talon walked past her, grabbed a cloth from the table, and wrapped it around his injured hand before pouring amber liquid into two separate glasses.
He offered her one. She eyed his bandaged palm before accepting and downing the contents with nothing more than a slight grimace. Talon promptly refilled it.
“Can’t you use a rune to fix that?” she asked, gesturing to the white cloth that was already turning red.
“Probably.” He sipped from his glass.
“Why don’t you?”