Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Ophelia
Tol’s head snapped up, eyes burning into mine, but every drop of lust quickly faded into a fervent dread.
For a moment that stretched on, we remained frozen, catching our breath until the shaking ceased. Reality suspended in the stillness, fear coiling around my stomach like a snake ready to sink its fangs into this perfect escape we’d created.
The first screams echoing through the palace stiffened my muscles.
Tol was already moving, pulling my dress into place and straightening his shirt before my heart rate had calmed.
I grasped his wrists, nails digging into his flesh. His eyes met mine, the terror coursing through my body plain on my face.
One moment, that was all we had before we faced whatever was drawing screams from our people, and there would be no room for fear. Tucked away in our haven as we were, it was easier to let worries sweep in.
Gently, Tol removed my hands from his wrists and pushed my weapons into them. The leather and metal were reassuring against my palms. He wrapped my fingers around them and the familiarity of the motion pulled me back to the present.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead for one last lingering, scorching kiss. Desperate desire poured into it.
Then, he reached around me to open the door, and we left the wanting behind.
I held my breath and shut out every emotion threatening to overcome me, slinging Angelborn across my back. The noise built as we fled through the high-ceilinged corridors of the palace.
We burst onto the entrance stairs to a world clouded with destruction. Gray smoke spiraled over our beautiful, hopeful city, darkening the lilac sky to a vengeful violet.
“Is it the volcano?” I asked as ash swirled onto my shoulders. The Spirit Volcano hadn’t erupted in thousands of years.
Warriors poured across the palace lawn, thundering into the streets with aggrieved roars I didn’t understand.
“It’s not the volcano,” Malakai said as he approached. Cyph and Rina stood with him.
“What—” Through the smoke billowing over the winding city of Damenal, between the buildings carved against rock, I could make out the swirling black armor of the new Engrossian army.
They’d ambushed us, attacked when we were distracted.
There was no time to organize our fighters as they poured into the streets to defend our capital.
“How did they get in? We have guards surrounding the city at all hours, stationed in the passes. How—” The second my gaze met Tol’s horror-stricken eyes, I knew.
“The tunnels,” he said.
“We didn’t secure them.” In the flurry of our arrival and what the others had revealed, in the rush of Daminius, we’d left entrances directly into our city unguarded. This attack—the warriors screaming and bloodied—was our fault.
“Where’s the smoke coming from?” I growled, fingers tightening around Starfire, channeling that guilt into fury as best I could, trying to hold myself together.
I followed Malakai’s line of sight to the Sacred Quarter. Perched on the palace steps, I could see the pillars of smoke. Tol’s hand slid around my waist the moment before realization slammed into me.
And every scrap of control I had unraveled.
The cry that tore through my throat was piercing and raw, devastation wringing my bones until I could no longer hold myself up.
The smoke threatened to swallow me whole as I watched the space where the Sacra Temple used to stand swirl with dust.
The air suddenly didn’t only sting with smoke—it reeked of death. Because I’d been meant to promenade to that temple to present the offering to Damien. I’d been late, but within those pillars—
The Mystique Council. My father. They’d all been inside.
And Kakias had blown it up.
Danya, Larcen, Alvaron…all gone. The shoulders carrying the Mystiques through reconstruction blown to pieces.
And the ones that had supported me my entire life, the tawny eyes guiding my every move. I’d just seen them across the ballroom—the sheen of proud tears as he’d watched me.
Now, he was gone. Bacaran Alabath had been wiped from the world with the blast that rocked the mountains.
“No,” I sobbed, tearing down the steps, across the lawn, and into the fray.
Voices yelled after me, but I charged through Engrossians. Starfire sliced where I needed her to, not stopping to see what carnage I left behind.
The temple had stood for centuries—millennia. It couldn’t have fallen. He couldn’t be gone.
My dress caught on rubble as I ran, one of my heels snapping with the force of my steps. I kicked them off and kept going. Ignored the rubble slicing into my feet.
The closer I got to the structure, the thicker the smoke. It stung my lungs, my breaths harsh through it. That pungent, ashy smell overwhelmed me as I charged into the haze, and the clashes of battle turned to a dull hum.
“Where is he—where—where…” I coughed over the pain in my chest and the ache in my heart.
Sobs wracked my body as I tore at debris. The echoes of the blast rang in my ears, the tumbling rock that followed it. I tossed crumbled marble and stone aside. Each clack of rock against rock made me flinch, the thought of what it sounded like on bone…
The temple was gone, only existing in chunks.
And even through my clouded eyes it was clear—there were no survivors.
My hand pressed against my chest; my lungs tightened.
He couldn’t be—he couldn’t be—
I was vaguely aware of a hand cupping my cheek, forcing me away from the columns of gray smoke that rose above the spot my father had last stood.
Around the corner, down an alley, into a shop with the windows blown out. Shelves turned over, bottles of oils and incense spilled across the floor. But I was surrounded by a safe huddle.
A steady thumb brushed the tears from my cheeks.
“Breathe. Breathe,” a voice repeated softly. Through my panicked sobs, chocolate eyes swam into view. He inhaled slowly, waiting for me to match it. Once I forced my lungs to cooperate, he exhaled. I mimicked the motion, ignoring the tears gathering in Tol’s eyes, as well.
The rest of the battle through the city dimmed as I looked at him and let his presence tether me down to this bloodied reality.
“She’ll pay,” I finally sputtered, voice thick. “They will all pay.”
“I promise,” he whispered, wiping away the last of my tears.
“Jez,” I gasped, spinning to find my sister clutching Erista’s arm.
Still as a sculpture, she stared out the window at the smoke-streaked sky.
Silent tears streamed down her face, but when I placed a hand on her shoulder, she looked at me with nothing but molten resolve, dark and agonizing and ready to burn the world down.
She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to.
My sister blinked her tawny eyes—our father’s eyes—and transformed into a weapon ready to be wielded against those who took him.
The pain we were feeling wasn’t the only loss that would come from this attack. The battle was raging through the streets already, and some of the strongest warriors we had to offer stood in this shop, ensuring Jezebel and I were okay.
I shoved away the ache stemming through my heart and turned to my friends. My family. Tolek, Jez, Cyph, Rina, and Malakai. Lyria and Mila. The delegates and even our two Engrossian guests.
They’d all come.
“This is an act of war.” I bent and sliced Starfire through my skirt, leaving the fabric in an uneven trim around my thighs. Tiny beads fell like golden raindrops through the ash. “And it ends tonight.”
I straightened to find everyone preparing as I had. There was no time to run for our leathers, to don any kind of armor. I was barefoot, relying on the mountains to heal those small cuts as I went.
Tonight, we’d fight with the honed skill flowing through our blood, the desire to protect our home, and the desperate need for vengeance.
Lyria fell into the role she’d been trained for, quickly assessing the damage that could be seen from here and working with Cyph and Dax to predict what the Engrossians’ next tactic might be. Figure out a way to spread a strategy through the city.
I didn’t let myself think of how Danya should have been at her side. That Danya would never stand here again.
Once they’d set a plan, Lyria fled out the damaged door with Mila.
Before turning the corner, she stopped. “Baby brother!” The black velvet of her fitted dress was spotted with ash, but the jagged edge she’d cut with her sword flared around her thighs.
Tol was already watching her. “Yes?”
“I’m proud of you.” She flashed the classic Vincienzo grin that carried more than her words.
“If you win this for us, maybe I’ll return the sentiment.” Tol grinned right back. She rolled her eyes, and Tol watched the only family member who had ever bothered to show him love charge into a fray of singing blades and bloodshed.
Santorina pulled her hair into a ponytail, saying she and Esmond would prepare the infirmary for the imminent influx of patients. Before they ran off, though, I grabbed my friend’s hand. She turned her dark, concerned eyes on me.
“Wait,” I said, needing one more moment with the people I loved most in the world. I tugged her back to the small huddle we’d formed. “No matter what happens tonight, I am grateful to have you all fighting by my side.”
My sister was quiet beneath Erista’s arm as my gaze met hers, but she managed to crack a smile of encouragement.
She’d seen and survived horrors that no seventeen-year-old warrior should have to face.
Though it went against my very nature to admit it, I couldn’t protect her from the battle below.
From the heartbreak we’d both face when this was over.
I took a breath, eyes flashing over Jezebel and Santorina, Cypherion and Malakai. Tol’s warmth pressed into my back, his hand supporting my waist. I looked up at him over my shoulder, barely able to breathe past the emotion in my throat. Quickly, I faced the group.
“I am grateful the Angels placed us in each other’s lives. Though they seem to think I am a pawn for their schemes and curses, they blessed me by gifting me your love.”
Weapons clashed in the city, and it was all I could do to force away images of my friends beneath them.
Nothing could happen to them. I’d lost too much, fought for too long, defended those I loved with every breath in my exhausted body…
I didn’t think I could rebuild myself again.
I’d lost enough in this life, and no more names would be added to the list I mourned.
“We’re grateful to follow you, Revered,” Cyph swore, drawing his weapons.
“Believe in the Angels,” Tol began, squeezing my hip.
“Be guided by the Spirits,” Jezebel added, and my chest tightened.
“And align with the stars,” Malakai finished, bringing the tears in my eyes dangerously close to spilling over again.
“Stay true,” I muttered.
One by one, the group around me dissolved, scampering into the bloodshed, weapons raised to the heavens.
Before joining them, I turned to Barrett and Dax where they’d been lingering on the outskirts of our goodbye. “You have to choose.”
“We chose long ago,” the heir answered without missing a beat.
“You know what this means.”
The Engrossians exchanged a glance. “We’re on the side of life, Ophelia,” Barrett said, expression tight. And I understood. They weren’t choosing between Engrossian and Mystique—their people or mine. They were choosing to fight for everyone that deserved to live.
The two charged after the others and were swallowed up by smoke.
Then, it was me and Tol. His hands came up to cup my cheeks.
“Be careful,” I whispered, biting down on my lip to stop it from trembling. Why was I always forced to say goodbye to him?
“You don’t need to worry about me, Alabath.” He tugged my lip from between my teeth and ran his thumb across it.
“I know, but—”
He pressed his mouth to mine, drowning my concerns. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against my lips. “We have unfinished business.”
I pulled back to see a familiar, taunting glint in his eye. Even amid the fighting, my stomach swooped.
“In the mood for revenge, Vincienzo?”
Tolek grinned. “There she is.”