Abdicated

Chapter 18 #2

Servers rush to me. “My Lady?” A young Fae touches my shoulder and bolts in fear.

I run to my room.

Jestin sits on my bed, reading something. He looks up and smiles, but this expression fades quickly.

“What’s happened?” He stands up immediately. I cry and sink to the floor. He reaches out and pulls me into his arms, but I shake him off.

“Shh,” he whispers, hugging me tighter.

I hiccup, collapsing to the floor again.

“I’m here,” he says softly.

◆◆◆

“You are going to the Death Passing Ceremony. No discussion.” Grams’s voice cuts through the air like steel. There is no room to argue.

“Seleste!!!!” A scream rips through me, shaking the palace walls and dragging me awake. My own scream tears from my lungs, raw and unbidden.

My head throbs, pulse hammering in my skull.

I blink.

Slowly, my vision clears. The cold stone of my room is gone. Instead, I am in the most disgusting place I have ever seen. It feels as if the filth is alive, pressing closer with every heartbeat.

The place looks like one of the cells from the Fool’s Festival dungeon, only the scent of moisture in the air doesn’t quite fit. My eyes dart up, and I see water condensing on the ceiling. Have they finally locked me up for what I’ve done?

Bile rises in my throat. It must be the monster’s pit.

“Actually, it’s only a cave in Mystic Forest,” a stunning Fae says. He perches on the edge of my disgusting bed, a teasing smile curling his perfect lips.

Scarlet eyes. Aidon.

I survey my surroundings, the broken furniture, the cheap beds, the cold fireplace. My satchel, Jestin’s coffins of sand, our bags.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, my voice wavering.

He looks away. Unease coils tight around my chest.

“Sit, please.” He lifts me, sets me opposite him, and takes my hands. His touch is steady, grounding, but fragile, like it might snap under the weight of what is to come.

“I need to tell you something, Seleste.” He has never said my name like that before.

“I guess I haven’t,” he mutters, his voice brittle. His smile is small and sad.

“What happened?” My body stiffens. “Have you seen the horror? You know what happened. You know I am a monster.”

His scarlet eyes hold mine. “Minx, I don’t blame you.”

My stomach twists.

My ignorance killed them. Hundreds, dead. My entire life.

A ringing hum fills my ears, drowning everything else out.

My knees feel weak, but my power, inexplicably, stays still. Why?

“I don’t blame you,” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and tears sting my eyes again.

“Where is everyone?” I force myself to change the subject.

He squeezes my hands. “Something bad happened.”

My heart stops. My chest tightens. A thousand terrible possibilities crash through my mind, but he only squeezes my hands again. Grounding. Holding.

“Please tell me,” I beg, my voice trembling.

“When Nulok hit the ground…” He pauses, testing if I remember. I do. My throat tightens. “He didn’t wake up.”

“What?” I blink. “Say it again.” His chest didn’t raise.

His expression falters. Fear lingers in his eyes, afraid I will break, but I am already crumbling. “He didn’t wake up.”

I search for hope, a crack, a single thread, but there is none. Nulok.

“Samira,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“She doesn’t know yet. The others are preparing him for the journey. Bane will carry Nulok to her.” My hands grip his. Only his presence keeps me from shattering completely.

She will never forgive me.

“Jestin!” I cry out. My throat aches. I want to stand and run to him, but Aidon anchors me in his arms.

“He’s not in good shape,” he says, gentle but unyielding.

It is…

“It is not your fault, Jestin’s fault, or anyone’s. Only the marrowsucker’s.”

“Why did he go down before the rest of us?” I whisper, my voice cracking. My mind scrambles for lies, for hope, anything but the truth, as it is too painful.

“He was the only one to sense it. That’s why the beast attacked him—so we’d never be warned.

The beast was beneath us, in the ground, and pierced his foot with so much venom…

He didn’t stand a chance.” His tone is too soft.

“Later, when it snatched you, it sucked all of his marrow. Even healing couldn’t bring back what it stole. There’s no undoing it.”

My stomach turns. Marrowsuckers are creatures of legend. Spider-like monsters that trap you in your worst nightmares, forcing you to relive it over and over while draining your body to store for winter. The nightmare does not end until there is nothing left to give. Until death embraces you.

“I’m so sorry.” He does not say anything else.

Panic claws at me. I try to rewind, replay every moment, but then it hits. “You ran! You left us!” Rage and betrayal burn through me.

“I went for help. The Forest Witch freed you.” His voice is soft, too soft.

“Nulok. How? How can he be dead?” My chest tightens. Breath comes in short, shallow bursts.

“I’m sorry, Seleste.”

“I cannot lose him. He must live!” My voice cracks. Not him. Not him. He does not deserve this. “Not him…” My voice breaks. I need to go to Jestin.

Aidon scoops me to his knees, and though I struggle, he lifts my chin. “Can you be brave for him?”

I understand what he means. He needs me like I needed him after what happened. “I can. I will.”

Aidon leads me out of the cave to a small clearing at the edge of the Forest Heart. My companions sit in a circle, their faces tense and quiet, and it finally hits me. My friend lies on the ground, pale as a corpse… because he is one.

The tremble threatens to overwhelm my body, but I hold it in, watching Jestin on his side, fat tears streaking down his cheeks.

My poor love. My face gets wet with my own tears, but I refuse to blink or breathe.

I take a step. Another. And another. Each one feels heavier than the last, as if the weight of the world presses down on me. Aidon anchors me through every impossible step with a firm, loving grip.

Nulok’s gone.

Then something snaps. My legs give way to the urgency inside me, and I break into a run. My feet pound the forest floor, each step driven by panic and heartbreak, until I reach Jestin.

He catches me in a fierce, almost desperate embrace, his arms pressing me against his chest.

“He’s gone. I shouldn’t have taken him with me,” he chokes out, burying his face in my neck, his body trembling against mine.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him as if I could absorb his pain into myself.

“I know,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He shakes slightly, muffled sobs vibrating through his chest into mine. I press my cheek against his hair, inhaling, letting the warmth of his body and the sound of his ragged breathing anchor me.

“I should have…” he starts again, but I cut him off gently.

“No. Stop blaming yourself,” I murmur, cupping his jaw, forcing him to meet my eyes. “We both loved him. We both lost him. And right now, we need to make sure that he gets safe to his mate.”

He clings tighter, as if I might vanish, and I let the tears stream freely down my face, feeling the weight of our grief, shared and heavy, but no longer something we bear alone.

Our friend is lying beside us.

I don’t know how long we stay there, until Riven’s soft voice breaks through the silence. “Bane is ready.”

“No…” Jestin cries and the sound with haunt me for eternity.

I search his face. “He needs to be with Samira,” I say, my voice cracking.

But he understands.

We rise, still holding each other’s hands like our lives depend on it. Aidon and Riven help us up.

I dare to glance down at the now-still body of my friend.

Night has already fallen.

Bane approaches and bows to me, then to Jestin, before gently scooping Nulok from the ground. Riven supports his head. Jestin touches him. We all do.

We want to help. In any way.

“I’m sorry I failed you,” Bane murmurs, averting his gaze.

“You didn’t.” Jestin only nods.

I failed us. If not for me, we wouldn’t be here. But I won’t make this moment about me. Not when the male I love is barely holding himself together.

Bane turns to his general, his arms cradling Nulok with reverence.

Riven steps closer, voice low. “After you finish in Santorili, check on Chief.”

Bane only nods, his face heavy with unspoken words.

Then he ascends, wings slowly unfurling, catching the night wind. The sound, the heavy, rhythmic beat of his wings, will haunt my nightmares for ages.

“I have no words to soothe your pain, but know that I am here if you need me,” Riven says to us.

“Please, the Forest Witch provides accommodation for the night. Tomorrow, we still need to address the forest. Let’s eat something.

I know it’s cruel, and that you have no time to grieve, but the living must come first.”

I don’t want to eat, yet I let Riven guide me into the cave where I woke up. The hideout has enough rooms for all of us, so everyone can have some space, plus a bath and a small dining area stocked with goods.

I cannot stomach anything, my body carrying me forward while my mind drifts in a haze.

Jestin… he disappears into one of the bedroom caves and stays there for hours.

And I fidget on the stool, my knees cuddled to my chest the whole time.

◆◆◆

I’ve decided to give him the ultimate comfort, an ultimate gift from a female to her male. No, not a child.

Head.

I know he lost his friend, but what else can I do for him? Being with him, holding him, hugging him, it will never be enough. I’ve tried every form of comfort known to Fae-kind. The best?

Oblivion.

I tried to form a portal to bring him some wine, but my power rests now. So if I can’t drown him in liquor, I am going to give him a different kind of oblivion.

Before my grief, I didn’t have much experience, only Dante, a few guards and the incubus that stole my virginity.

But since I became the queen of slumps and disappointment, I’ve learned how to take a dick, even if the lessons sometimes ended with me vomiting on the very same organs.

I know gross.

I crack open the door slightly. He lies in the near-darkness, a single wax candle giving faint light, its flame almost burnt down.

I stroll inside, putting an extra effort into looking good.

I even let my hair loose, so he can later grab it and pull hard.

But when his bloodshot eyes flick to me, I realise I need to be less obvious.

“Jestin, I want to help,” I say, my voice low.

“I’m sorry, Sels. I just… need some time.” His broken tone only doubles my determination to pull him out of his head, even for a moment.

I climb onto his knees and he holds me tight. I let him - for a while. But when I shift to move down, planning to press against his trousers, he flinches and holds me tighter.

“Let me help you forget,” I murmur as I lean into him.

“No.”

He lifts me gently off his lap and lays me beside him, on the white sheets.

I want to punch something, but I don’t. He’s grieving. He can just not be in the mood.

“It would help you,” I whisper.

“Baby girl, I don’t want to. It would feel like spitting on Nulok…”

Why didn’t I think of it that way?

“I’m so sorry. You’re right.”

He shifts us until he’s nestled against me, clinging like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“Thank you for being with me.” He speaks so softly I almost think I’ve imagined it, until his hand finds mine and our fingers tangle together.

I trace small circles over the back of his hand. His grip tightens slightly, as if reassuring himself that I am still here. I can feel the tension in him, the raw edges of his pain, and it twists my chest.

“Can I stay like this?” I murmur, pressing my forehead lightly against his. His breathing is uneven, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just… be here.”

I nod, letting my fingers wander, memorising the way his body fits against mine. For a moment, the world outside the room ceases to exist—the war, the forest, Nulok’s death—they all fade into shadows at the edge of my mind.

All that remains is him, trembling, but alive.

I will make sure that he lives through it.

He presses a hand against my waist, tentative at first, then more firmly, like anchoring himself. I can feel his heart hammering against mine, desperate and fragile, and I wish I could take some of the weight off him.

I wish I could pull all the darkness into my own chest and let him breathe freely. I already wear the weight of so many, I can wear Nulok’s for him.

“I can’t fix it,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “I can’t make it go away. But I am here. I will always be here, my love.”

A quiet shudder runs through him, and he nuzzles closer, burying his face against my neck. “That’s enough,” he whispers. “That’s more than enough.”

I let my hands drift through his hair, over his shoulders, holding him steady, letting the warmth between us speak louder than words ever could.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours; I’ve lost count. Every time his body relaxes slightly, I feel a small victory, a tiny crack in the armor his grief has built around him.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence. “I don’t deserve this,” he says, low and vulnerable.

“Yes, you do,” I say firmly. “You deserve to be held, to be wanted, even when the world is screaming at you.” I say the words that he told me so many times in those initials months after I killed my family. “And I won’t let you fight alone. You are never going to be alone, do you understand?”

He sighs, almost inaudibly, and squeezes my hand again. I lean in, pressing a light kiss to the back of his wrist, just enough to let him feel I am still here.

His grip loosens, just a little, and I let him breathe, letting him exist in this small, fragile bubble of comfort.

And for the first time since Nulok, I think maybe, just maybe, he might survive this night without losing himself completely.

I will make sure of it.