Chapter 27 Promises Made #2
So, with nothing more to do, we left for the Rift.
The morning light stretched across the land in soft, golden ribbons, glinting off polished armor and the banners that rippled in the wind.
The sound of hundreds of hooves striking the earthen paths echoed through the valley, a rhythm of purpose and farewell.
Aster and Tiff rode behind us on their own horse, a massive creature that looked as if it had been born from a storm, its mane whipping in the wind like black silk.
I wasn’t at all surprised that it was bigger than Acelin.
It would have to be, considering it carried a man built like Aster.
I couldn’t help but giggle when I saw Tiff squirming in their saddle, muttering under her breath about how uncomfortable she was.
“Remind you of anyone,” Atlas teased, his voice warm against my ear.
I shot him a look over my shoulder, pretending to glare, but his chuckle rumbled through his chest, the sound melting my mock annoyance into a smile.
He pulled me closer against him, the motion easy and instinctive, before pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.
That single gesture was enough to send my heart into a fluttering mess.
The journey was slow. There were too many people, too many horses, too many Myths that travelled on foot.
The endless line of soldiers and creatures stretched back so far that the dust from their passage turned the horizon hazy.
Despite the noise and the motion, there was a strange peace in the rhythm of it all, the soft creak of leather, the steady thud of hooves.
Without stopping through the night, I found myself fighting exhaustion.
My eyes drifted shut more than once, my head lolling forward before the strong arm around my waist tightened, keeping me upright.
Every time I slipped into sleep, I felt the rise and fall of his chest against my back, a steady anchor in the chaos.
That wasn’t to say we didn’t stop at all. Eventually, the human women reached their limits, or rather, their saddles did.
Most of the time, the rest of the army, however, pressed forward. Which meant that by the time we reached the open plains, I could already see them waiting near the Rift, a tear in the earth as well as air that shimmered with light like molten glass. The ground around it was uprooted and bare.
This route, Atlas had explained, was a shorter one, easier for so many to reach on horseback.
I had asked him why he hadn’t brought me here the first time, and he told me he thought it would be safer.
I understood now. That other path, hidden deep within the trees, had offered cover and concealment, but this one, wide and exposed, left us vulnerable to any eyes that might have been watching.
Of course, it hadn’t mattered in the end, the witch had found us regardless, and no forest had been protection enough.
Now, as we drew nearer to the Rift, the air changed. It felt heavier, thicker, the kind of silence that hums before a storm. The soldiers slowed instinctively, their chatter dying out as the sight of that swirling wound in reality filled their view.
And speaking of threats, we were now standing before the greatest one of all, the Rift itself.
Meaning only one thing…
It was soon time to say goodbye.
The air around it shimmered with power, the faint hum of magic vibrating through the ground, yet the unease that stirred in me had nothing to do with the Rift itself. It came from knowing what it would take from me.
He had brought excitement back into my life, a spark I hadn’t realized I had lost. For so long, I had been merely surviving, waking each day only to fight through another, always hoping that something would save us.
That someone had been him. The King who had once been my enemy had become my reason to breathe.
And now, if I opened the Rift, that same man who had saved me would leave me.
I told myself it was for the right reasons.
His kingdom needed him. His people needed him.
He was their protector, their ruler, their savior.
But what about me? Who would save me from the chaos he would leave behind?
What would happen to the quiet warmth he had carved into my heart?
I feared I would be left with a Rift of my own, one that would never close, one that would echo endlessly with the sound of his voice.
He stood before me now, every inch of him etched into my mind like a final painting I was desperate to memorize.
The silence between us was heavy, stretched thin by everything we wanted to say but couldn’t.
Tears pricked my eyes as I took him in, every part of him becoming a piece of the mosaic I would hold in memory long after he was gone.
Thankfully, his people had the good sense to give us privacy for what would come next.
He assured me that since he had claimed me, I would be stronger this time.
That it wouldn’t hurt like it once had, and I wouldn’t end up passing out because of it.
He had also told me on the way here how, with his help, it should recognize his presence long enough to allow him and his people entry back inside.
Which meant I might have been the key to the lock, but he was the strength to keep that door open for as long as was needed. As for my need, I wanted so badly to ask what would come next. What was the plan after the victory was claimed?
I wanted to know if I would ever see him again.
When would I next run my hands through his thick black hair or get lost in those dark eyes again?
A pair I had once thought cold, but now knew to be warm, and with their flashes of white light, showcasing his emotions.
Even the smallest movement of his brows could change everything he said into sin, could turn the simplest of glances into something that made my pulse race.
I wanted to trace every line of him, every detail I would lose to time.
That straight nose I had once imagined breaking in defiance was now one I would press my lips to in worship.
Those lips, soft, full, and maddeningly perfect, held the power to command armies, yet could unravel me completely with one kiss.
My breath hitched as I reached for him. The air between us pulsed, heavy and alive, and when my hands finally touched his face, the warmth of his skin made me shudder. My fingers slid along the sharp edges of his jaw, feeling the faint rasp of stubble beneath my touch, rough and real.
I traced the curve of his cheekbones, the slight hollow below them, and then let my palms rest fully against his skin, cupping his face as if I could hold him there, hold time itself still.
I tried to memorize him through touch. Pressing his features into my memory, carving them into the fissures of my fingers as if my body could remember him even when my heart ached too much to try.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The world around us was quiet, save for the low hum of the Rift and the wind that stirred the air between us. I could feel his heartbeat through my hands, slow and steady, echoing against my palms.
And I knew, with every breath that passed between us, that goodbye was the cruelest thing the gods had ever invented.
“I wanted to give you this,” he said, pulling something from underneath his jacket that he must have packed in the horse's saddle bag. I gasped when I saw it.
“My journal!” I reached for it instinctively, cradling it the moment it touched my hands. The cover was worn, the edges softened by time and use, and I held it close to my chest like it was a piece of myself I had thought long lost. His grin said it all, as he looked touched by my reaction.
“I think I first started to fall in love with you in those pages,” he confessed, making me inhale quickly, and my tear-filled eyes found his looking down at me.
I swallowed down the hard, emotional lump, and teased, “You mean even after what I said about you and called you an arrogant bastard?”
He smirked and leaned closer to whisper, “Especially after that.” Then he winked at me, making me laugh. “I’ve read it, more than once actually,” he added, a teasing glint sparkling in his dark eyes. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I made a few amendments.”
A smile ghosted across my lips, small and fragile.
“You edited my journal?”
“I improved it,” he corrected, his smirk deepening, though the warmth behind it faltered, the moment stretching between us like glass about to crack. I opened the book, but his hand closed it gently.
“Wait until I’ve gone,” he whispered, and I nodded, placing it down on top of my duffel bag that he had taken from his horse. As I would still have to travel back the way we had come, only this time, the painful part would be doing so without Atlas to comfort me.
“You ready?”
I took another breath, but it shook as it left me, a sound caught between a sob and a sigh.
“Okay,” I whispered, forcing the word through the ache that burned my throat.
He leaned down then, slow and sure, his lips hovering over mine, close enough that I could feel the ghost of his breath, warm and trembling.
My resolve cracked, and I turned away before he could seal the distance.
A tear slipped free and rolled down my cheek.
Then Atlas closed his eyes, his forehead resting against mine as he exhaled softly. When he finally pulled back, his expression was carved from heartbreak and reverence.
“I make you this promise, Alexandra, that every day we are apart, you will consume my thoughts. But know this, once my brother is dead, and the threat to my people and yours is over… I will come for you… Do you understand?” he said, making my head shoot up.
“You will?” The hopeful tone wasn’t lost on him and he looked taken aback by my shock. Then realization sank in as he understood what I must have thought, but then how could he blame me? We hadn’t talked once about our future or what happened after this.