Chapter 47
There is no love without fear, but no one told me that fear feasts on those with something to lose. That’s been my problem all along, and though everything looks very different now when I gaze at my life, that part remains steadfast and true.
I imagine it always will.
The starkness of this certainty settles deep as I lie before the fire with Alexus’s head upon my breast. His long body is wrapped around mine, so still and tranquil, clinging to the remnants of our lovemaking.
My mind drifts so easily to the worry that—at any moment—his gentle heartbeat could cease, and I can do nothing to prevent it.
I don’t know how to reconcile this. Accepting that this is our fate unless we defeat the Prince of the East with a handful of Witch Walkers is beyond my reach.
Alexus doesn’t seem to live under the weight of such concerns. When he wakes, he takes me again, making love to me until my mind is blank of anything other than the passion we share. But we cannot remain in the dreamworld of his bedchamber forever.
Too soon, I’m standing with Hel in the main hall, watching servants carry the last of the packs and blankets outside.
We’re dressed in leathers, thick wool tunics, heavy fur-lined cloaks, and sealskin gloves.
Our boots are tall with daggers strapped to both sides, and we each wear a baldric across our chests, complete with swords that fit our hands perfectly.
I can’t help but glance at Hel, looking like the warrior she was always meant to be. Every hour here brings some new change that makes my old life less recognizable, but I’m beginning to think these changes somehow fit.
Hel jerks her head for me to follow, and we turn down the impressive hall leading to the kitchens. We pass a half dozen tapestries, each at least thirty hands high, depicting war. The Land Wars. The wars that led Colden Moeshka to a life he never expected—that of an immortal king.
Hel opens the door leading to the main kitchen, and we slip inside. No one is here but us.
“What is this about?” I ask.
She arches a dark eyebrow and guides me across the room.
A pitcher and scrying dish filled with water wait on a rough-hewn table.
“Can you look for my father? If he’s out there, Raina, that’s another pair of fighting hands we need.
Possibly seven pairs of fighting hands if the rest of the hunters are all right.
They’re good with weapons. Good at hunting. Survival. Tracking.”
I blow out a long breath. She’s right. The hunters from Silver Hollow would be a grand addition to our efforts, but ever since the night of the attack on the village, I’ve had a terrible suspicion that our hunters fell to the Eastlanders hours before the enemy devastated the vale.
I saw Warek. What looked like a man passed out from too much drink could’ve also been a dead man revealed to me from an unclear angle.
But I must look again. I must be certain.
I slip a dagger from my boot and prick my fingertip. The blood falls, and I swirl the water.
“Nahmthalahsh. Show me the hunters.”
The image that forms on the water’s violet surface almost takes me to my knees. The hunters are there, in the valley, burying bodies.
I look at Hel and smile, happy tears welling at the rims of my eyes.
“They’re alive?” she asks as elation spreads across her face. “You see them?”
With a wipe of my eyes, I nod and turn back to the water, dumping it into a basin and refilling from the pitcher. Another prick.
Another drop of blood.
“Nahmthalahsh. Show me Warek.”
The water swirls, and another violet scene arrives.
Faces. Obscured faces. People walking behind the low-hanging leaves of a tree. I peer harder, and a wind blows, clearing away the leaves.
I gasp and grip the table’s edge. Warek walks toward the charred remains of the village, his face saddened and downturned but lined with the same gentleness he was known for in Silver Hollow.
But he is not alone.
With a limp in her step, Mena struggles along behind him, a little girl clinging to her hand—Saira. Tuck the dog trots lazily next to his girl.
And there, beside Hel’s father, is someone else. His dark face is hard and filled with bitterness, his skin chapped from the cold morning wind and autumn sun. A shovel rests on his strong shoulder.
I close my eyes, and my heart cleaves in two.
Finn.
I stand with my sister in the falling snow, outside what’s left of the stables. I would’ve never imagined her this way, but she looks fierce, her long hair in tight braids against her skull, her body clad in furs and glinting weapons.
We’re surrounded by more than two dozen Witch Walkers and Northlanders, as well as their families, lovers, and friends, all saying their goodbyes.
The grooms lead Mannus and Tuck from their stalls against a cold wind, and though my heart is filled with strife, it still swells for the horses who saw Alexus and me through the wood and will carry us through yet another adventure.
Alexus takes their reins, his dark hair and black cloak whipping in the wind.
When he sees me, he smiles, but there’s a sad edge to it.
His last words before we left his chambers were: If my life is cut short, I will die happy because I had this time with you.
But I will fight for more. I will fight for Colden. And I will fight for us.
Nephele takes me by the shoulders, tenderness shining in her eyes.
“I know you’re uncertain about being here, Raina.
About this journey. So much has happened.
And I know I haven’t been around you and Finn for a very long time, but Alexus is one of my truest friends.
I see the way he looks at you. I’ve heard the way he speaks about you with such admiration.
That man would burn down the world for Raina Bloodgood, and not just because you saved his life.
” She gives me a small smile and slides her hands down to clasp mine.
“I also know you’re in a difficult position after seeing Finn.
If I can give you any advice, it’s to listen to your heart.
” She pauses, then holds my gaze. “Alexus Thibault is a man who doesn’t give his love or his body freely, Raina.
This is different for him. You are different for him. ”
As Alexus approaches, Nephele casts a glance and a smile in his direction and then turns and strides away. She gives me one last look and a wink over her shoulder.
I didn’t need the advice. I knew what I had to do the moment I saw Finn’s handsome face.
Alexus halts the horses a few feet away from me. An awkward distance builds in the space between us, a distance that would’ve been unthinkable a few hours ago.
“I heard about the hunters,” he says. “And your friends—Rhonin’s grandmother.
Warek and Finn Owyn.” He clears his throat.
“I hadn’t realized Finn was Helena’s brother, the blacksmith’s son.
” His eyes are soft and kind when he says Finn’s name, but uncertainty and turmoil fill his voice.
“I’m glad they’re all right,” he adds. “We’re a sennight’s ride from the vale, but with you watching the waters, I’m sure we’ll be able to find them should they travel.
” He pauses, his voice quiet, his eyes sincere.
“You owe me nothing, Raina. I know Finn being alive changes things. And I understand.”
“It changes nothing,” I tell him, staring up into his eyes.
Because it doesn’t. It hasn’t. I don’t know how I’ll ever explain to Finn what I feel for Alexus or how it happened in such a short time. But everything in my world has changed.
I’ve changed. And I can’t stop thinking about Mena’s words of wisdom. Something must always be lost if you’re ever to gain. Don’t fear this. You will never move forward if you never leave things behind.
I don’t want to leave Finn behind. He’s been my dearest friend and such an enormous part of my life.
But I know he will not suffer me being with Alexus in any manner.
It’s one thing for him to see me living my life alone.
It will be a wholly different circumstance for him to see me with someone other than him.
And I’m not willing to give up the man standing before me.
“You’re sure?” Alexus asks. Uncertainty lines his furrowed brow.
“I am more sure than I have been about anything in a long time.” I step closer and take his hand.
He exhales, his breath clouding in the wintry air, and without a moment’s hesitation, pulls me into his arms, bends down, and kisses me as though he hasn’t kissed me in centuries. No one has ever kissed me the way he does, like I’m meant to be savored and cherished.
When he finally releases me, I realize we’re being watched.
Face heating, I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip and duck my head. “What will the others think?” I sign.
With a smile so true it makes his dimple appear, he leans close, his green stare sparkling in the morning light. “They’ll think we’re desperate for one another, and they won’t be wrong.” He kisses me again—deeper, longer. A kiss that says: She’s mine.
In those moments, the world falls away, and I no longer care who’s watching.
But then he breaks the kiss, and our reality returns. Alexus faces the crowd behind us and whistles loudly to gather everyone’s attention. “Mount up,” he shouts. “It’s time.”
He helps me onto Tuck’s back, fitting me in the saddle. I tighten my fingers around the reins as Hel, Nephele, and Rhonin ride up alongside.
Rhonin bows his head and presses his fist over his heart. “Thank you for checking the waters, Raina. It means everything.”
I nod in return. He’s worried for his family, people I cannot see, but his grandmother is alive in the vale, and that knowledge has brought a light to his eyes I haven’t seen since I met him.
Hel grins and glances at Rhonin. “How far we’ve come. Enemies one day, riding across an entire break together the next.”
I see no worry in her eyes. I haven’t told her, but I think she knows where my heart has landed when it comes to her brother.
Her love for me isn’t designed around Finn, though.
She wants me to be happy, and if that means kissing the Witch Collector until I turn blue, I know she’ll want that for me.
The Witch Walkers say goodbye to their loved ones, and then we cross through Winterhold’s gates and face Frostwater Wood. I’ve no notion what lies ahead, but I believe the days leading to this moment were meant to prepare me for something yet unknown.
Alexus guides us, and I ride close, but he halts Mannus and takes a deep inhale of frost-filled air coming from the north.
He looks at me over his shoulder, his eyes so devastatingly bold against the snowy backdrop. “And you’re certain you’re ready? This is only the beginning.”
I ride up until he’s but an arm’s length away. “Certain,” I sign, my determination as solid as the icy ground beneath me. “We have a king to save.”
THE END
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