Chapter Fifty-Six #2
This time upon seeing it, I didn’t feel fear.
I felt connection. I felt privileged. I stepped forward, watching him eye me as if I might stab him.
“I see no monster, Ash. I told you,” I whispered, my hand capturing his cheeks with a caress, “I’m not running again.
” I sealed my promise by bringing my lips to his.
If he’d been holding back with me before, his restraint fell away like discarded chains.
His hands gripped my hair, cupped my face, anything he could do to bring us closer, he did so reverently that I was forever lost to him.
His lips slanted over mine, claiming, possessing, until it wasn’t just our bodies meshed together seamlessly, but our very beings.
I felt the sheer gravity of his relief in every touch, every movement.
There was a Joining ceremony I’d always found meaningful.
It was said that once poured into that new bowl, those grains of sand were completely and forever entwined.
One no longer existed without the other, no matter the circumstance.
I was beginning to feel the same way about Ash.
I don’t know what would happen when the curse touch reaches our hearts, but I knew now that there was at least part of me that wouldn’t survive if something happens to him.
The stain had risen, moving up our forearms now.
I won’t survive if we fail at breaking the curse before it breaks us.
And if I were honest with myself, I’m not sure I wanted to.
I had refused to leave for Moonfall until I had seen Rowena and Odessa alive and well with my own eyes.
The ink touch was quickly rising, showcasing time as a luxury we didn’t have.
We had to reach Moonfall, we had to do so quickly, and we had to summon Hecate.
If the Fates were on our side, she’d be able to remove our curse.
Thank the gods I was able to remember the approximate way to Rowena’s uncle’s estate.
On a steep hill, overlooking the lower city on one end and peeking over the wall on the other, the place boasted spectacular views.
My chest tightened at the memory of the four of us sitting on the rooftop watching the sun paint its usual dusk, a masterpiece for us to behold together.
My head had slipped to Thaddeus’s shoulder, Dess and Rowena had blushed when one looked at the other.
Looking back, seeing them married now was so surreal.
I almost wanted to leave. If I left now, before I knocked on that door, Rowena was alive and safe. Nothing bad could be discovered if I just walked away now. But the sour, tight feeling in my gut would never relent, nor would my mind ever truly quiet.
Please let Ro be okay.
“She’ll be fine.” Ash’s voice was the relief of a breeze on a scorching day but still didn’t abate the heat entirely. “You worry too much.”
“I’ve already lost one friend, I can’t lose another,” I pressed. With great hesitation, my knuckles came up to rap the door, but hovered in the air. My stomach churned. What if Ro were dead? What if—
Ash knocked four times on the door, eliminating my train of thought. I whirled on him, about to snap that smirk off his face when the door opened to a familiar sight.
Odessa.
She looked much better. Cleaner. No blood marred her appearance, though purple still took up residence under her eyes. Eyes that brightened when landing on us.
“Rowena,” I stumbled into the question, terrified to ask, “Is she…?” Ash’s hand slipped into mine, a small squeeze by way of comfort. Dess launched herself into my arms.
“She’s okay.” Those two words were all it took for my body to sag under the weight of my relief, as if all that had kept me going today was my fear for her.
Dess parted from me after a small eternity and glanced at Ash with more warmth than I’d anticipated.
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have my wife if it weren’t for you. ”
“Your thanks aren’t needed.” Ash spoke with a warmth I’d not before witnessed, his head lowering in respect, while keeping his steady gaze on hers. “I’m glad to see you well.”
I swear Dess had the faintest flush to her cheeks when she tripped over her own words and turned to invite us into a foyer dominated by dark wood, massive windows, and high ceilings.
Dess took my hand, her grip freezing in my own, leading us to what I remember vaguely was the living space.
Stepping through the threshold, my pace quickened from a walk to a dart to where Rowena sat reclined in a comically mountainous heap of pillows.
Her face morphed from startled, to confused, to overjoyed in the blink of time it took for me to reach her.
“Stay down!” I admonished her as she attempted to shift to a rising position and smothering her where she lay. “I’m so relieved you’re safe, Ro. I could hardly think of anything else.”
“I’m on the mend,” Ro announced with an exhausted smile, showcasing her bandaged side.
“The healer said that the blade that cut me was of a magical nature that forced me to heal slowly, even with healer interjection.” Her words turned me cold.
That was how my father enchanted some of his many blades he had prepared for the king. One of his blades might have done this.
“I’m so sorry, Rowena,” I whispered, busying myself in fluffing her pillows and tucking her blankets, and otherwise fussing over her.
“Don’t be. Uncle is baking something in the kitchen and between him and Dess, I’ve never been more pampered.
” Her eyes flit to me before narrowing on my hand.
All her warmth vanished, like summer being chased by the frost. “The curse touch,” she seethed, her eyes immediately finding Ash and his mirrored ink-stained hand.
“Tell me this was not your doing. That my gratitude to you will not be so short-lived.”
I hurried an explanation. “It wasn't his doing. We’re working on breaking it now.”
“And what happens if you don’t?” Dess mused in a soft voice, bringing my gaze to hers.
“I've read about curses." She paused, her eyes not leaving my hand. "The black hand is a death curse.”