66. Chapter 66
Chapter 66
Emma
T he darkness didn't last long. Emma peeled her eyes open, her grogginess easing as if pulling off a thick, heavy blanket. She stood—or at least, her soul did. Panic flooded her veins as she looked down upon her unconscious body cradled in Thomas's arms. He tucked her close, carrying her off into the depths of the Wicked Wood to hide.
Heart pounding, she chased after him, her dagger still tight in her hand. She’d made sure to hold it tight while drinking the potion, hoping that it would keep the dead away from her as she slept, but now, looking at her body, she was grateful for an entirely different reason.
It was alarming how vulnerable she looked. How flaccid her limbs were, her head lolling back and feet swinging with every step Thomas took. She held her breath as he tucked her inside a fallen tree, crouching down to tuck the hair back from her face. She shivered as she peered over his shoulder, searching her body for signs of life.
The anxiety swirling between her ribs eased a fraction as she watched her chest rise and fall with ease, the deep, rhythmic breath of sleep obvious. Her pulse jumped beneath her jaw, and Emma reached out her shaking hand, pressing two fingers against it to feel the steady thump of her heart. Is this what the new potion had done? Allowed her to interact with the world while tethered to the other side ?
"Thomas?" Emma said, following him as he moved to hide behind the thickest part of the trunk. He didn't answer, totally unaware of her presence, his head scanning the forest as he searched for threats. She reached out to him, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, exhaling softly.
"Thomas?" she asked again, moving her hand down to his shoulder and squeezing. Could he feel her? Did he know, somewhere in his subconscious, that she was here with him?
“I’m here,” she said, looking around to search for the souls of the dead, wondering if they would come to find her while she lingered in the in-between.
But there were none. Not a single soul. None of the men who had haunted the Wicked Wood before. Not a single soldier who had fallen in the battle raging so close to where they hid. Normally, the dead were drawn to her like a magnet, but Emma wouldn’t second guess their absence. It was a blessing, to not have to experience their agony and suffering.
She turned back to face Thomas, her heart sinking as a group of very much alive soldiers appeared behind him, creeping forward with their swords ready. Their eyes were blank, almost unseeing, as if they’d been put under a spell, and Emma wondered what kind of enchantment Alaric had cast over them. She couldn't sense their emotions or motives—just… emptiness. Was it because she wasn’t fully a part of their world as she straddled the in between? Or were they being so deeply controlled by Alaric’s power that they had no thoughts or feelings of their own?
"Behind you!" Emma grabbed Thomas’s shoulder again, this time shaking him. "Behind you!" she yelled louder, willing with everything she had for her voice to be heard. This time, he turned around, jumping to his feet and holding out his sword. Thomas's hands shook as he positioned his body in front of Emma, still hidden within the trunk of the tree.
"He said you’d be hiding," the soldier in the front sneered. "Where's the girl?"
"What girl?" Thomas asked, his eyebrows lowering. He tilted his head. "I don't know who you're talking about."
"Of course you do," the soldier mocked, stalking forward, his eyes as black as night. "He said we’d find a man with brown hair, a human , hiding away like a coward. Guarding the girl that allows the worlds to join together." The soldiers spread out, surrounding the tree trunk, their eyes examining every inch. "He said you wouldn't be far from her. So where is she?"
Emma moved to stand in front of her sleeping body as if, somehow, she could help hide it from their view.
"I said, I don't know what you're talking about," Thomas said.
The soldier’s jaw clenched. "Make this easy, human. Tell us where she is, and I'll let you live."
"There's no one—" Thomas began, but the soldier cut him off, jumping forward with inhuman speed and pressing the edge of his sword to Thomas's throat.
Thomas retaliated without hesitation, raising his own sword to press it against the soldier's stomach, just above his belly button.
The soldier laughed as if Thomas was holding a dull butter knife. "You think you can defeat me?" he challenged. A chuckle spread between the soldiers, a mocking echo dancing through the trees. "You?” He pressed the tip of the sword harder into Thomas’s throat, and a drop of deep red blood welled beneath it. Emma's heart thundered, and she wondered if her body could feel it, still resting only inches away.
The soldier assessed Thomas, his gaze slowly raking down his body until his gaze dropped to Thomas's foot, and Emma followed his line of sight to where a sliver of her dress peeked out from the log. The soldier stiffened, and Thomas ducked to the side, thrusting his sword upward. The sword against his neck drug sideways, and he hissed in pain, but there was no time to check how severe the injury was or try to stem the bleeding. The other soldiers lunged forward, grabbing Thomas and wrenching his arms behind his back while another callously pulled Emma’s body from the tree, ripping her out by her arm.
Thomas kicked at the soldier, connecting with his nose with a crunch, and he dropped Emma's arm, his hands flying up to his bloody face. “Fuck!” he screamed as Thomas dropped to his knees, yanking his arms forward as quickly as possible to break free from their grasp.
"Thomas!" Emma screamed, but even with her voice so loud her throat felt raw, he couldn't hear her, didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of his name. The soldiers cursed as Thomas rolled away and picked up his sword, swinging it at the soldier dragging Emma’s body deeper into the woods. The men moved forward in unison, and without thinking, Emma darted forward, jabbing her dagger between one soldier’s shoulder blades. He fell with a scream of agony, giving Thomas room to sweep his sword at the others’ legs. They jumped back, their eyes darting around nervously at the surprise attack.
Emma kicked the fallen weapons away, then turned back, closing her eyes as she slit another soldier’s throat.
"What the hell?" one of them exclaimed, stumbling back. Thomas took advantage of his shock, lunging forward and stabbing the soldier just below his left shoulder.
As if they’d practiced fighting together a thousand times, Emma ducked under a soldier’s arm, thrusting her dagger upward through a man’s sternum as another soldier charged toward Thomas. He dodged the attack, but stumbled as a soldier came at him from the side, and together the men fell to the ground.
Emma ran after him, looking for an opportunity to attack without harming Thomas as they grappled, flipping over and over as they fought for the soldier’s dagger. Thomas disarmed him, turning the dagger on the royal soldier and swiftly slicing through his throat, throwing the soldier’s spasming body off him.
As Thomas scrambled to his feet, the final soldier stalked toward Emma’s body, a cruel smile on his face as he raised his sword overhead and swung it down towards her exposed throat.
"No!" Thomas roared, diving toward her. Emma’s heart stopped as Thomas threw himself on top of her, shielding her with his body as the sword came down in a furious arc.
Emma sprinted toward him, launching forward and stabbing her dagger through the soldier’s back with all her might, but it was too late. The soldier’s sword was a second too fast, slicing down and cutting through Thomas’s throat with ease.
Emma screamed, a blood-curdling wail that shook the trees as she collapsed at Thomas’s side. "No, no, no," she sobbed, pressing her hand to his wound, but there was so much blood. More than she’d ever seen, hot and sticky on her hands as it bubbled from his throat. "Thomas!" she cried. He lifted his head, and in one final act of strength, wrenched the sword from the dying soldier’s grasp. Emma reached into her pocket, grabbing the moonflower petal with bloody fingers, but Thomas’s eyes had already glazed over with death.
"No, no, no," she begged again, pressing the petal between his lips. He lay still, unmoving, and Emma threw herself across him, her tears soaking into his bloody shirt as sobs racked her body.
"Please, no, Thomas!"
"Emma?" a voice said from behind her.
She sniffled, closing her eyes. "No," she whimpered again. “No. No. No. ”
"Emma, it's okay," Thomas said, his hand now resting on her back, and even in death, his touch sent butterflies racing through her stomach.
“No!” she sobbed, refusing to turn. Maybe if she didn’t see it, it wouldn’t be real, but Thomas grabbed her shoulder, turning her and pulling her into his arms.
Emma threw her arms around him, not caring about the blood. Not caring about anything but holding him. "No. No. No!" she cried. The same word again and again, as if she was stuck in a loop. But she couldn’t break free from it. Because that would mean she believed it was happening—that Thomas was really dead.
"It's okay," he soothed, holding her tight in his strong embrace.
"How?" she cried. "How is it okay?" She sat up, not bothering to wipe away her blood or tears. A zap of electricity bolted through her chest. “The moonflower…” she trailed off, patting down Thomas’s pockets. "Where is it?" she asked frantically, her hands shaking.
Thomas shook his head, sadness in his eyes. "It won’t work, Emma. I’m gone."
"No," Emma cried again. “Just try. Please!”
Thomas exhaled, pressing his lips together and pulling the petal from his pocket. He placed it in his mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Emma held her breath, waiting. She was tethered to the other side. It had to work. And yet… he remained kneeling beside her, his throat torn open, blood coating nearly every inch of his torso.
"You shouldn’t have done that," she whispered, collapsing into his arms again, sobbing. They were supposed to have time. This was only the beginning.
Thomas lifted her chin, his touch so gentle it made her heart hurt. "I would do anything to protect you. I love you, Emma. I want you to live a good life. A long life. Okay? Don’t feel guilty for this—it was my choice. I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and I intend to keep that vow."
Emma sniffled, her body shuddering with each gasp for air. “There has to be a way…” Thomas's head snapped up, and Emma trailed off, following his gaze to where more soldiers approached, the same dead look in their eyes.
Thomas pulled back, wrapping his hands around her biceps. "We have to fight, Emma. You have to live."
And even through her grief and pain, she knew he was right. If Alaric’s soldiers were still coming, Lea still needed her. The kingdom still needed her.
"I love you," he said again, pulling her to her feet. "Forever," he whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"I love you, too," Emma replied, gripping her dagger tighter as the soldiers advanced, unaware of their presence. They were searching for her, had been told what she could do. But they couldn’t let Alaric’s men kill her. She still had a job to do.
As the men closed in, their eyes fixed on her sleeping form, Thomas's body laying across it in his final act of sacrifice, they raised their weapons.
"I'll see you on the other side," Thomas said with a sad smile before charging forward to fight to protect Emma—even in death—just as he had promised her.