Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ingrid
The rain has let up for a short while by the time we reach the construction site.
As soon as we got word of the impending disaster, we left Threshward Plains at full speed, no stops for breaks or rest. I don’t know what good we’ll be able to do against the storm and the rising waters, but knowing they aren’t alone may be what these people need most.
“We’re doing what we can to shore up the banks,” an Emerald Warden explains to Xandril while I take in the scene. So many people working together toward a common purpose, so much energy poured into the effort.
There must be something I can do.
“If we set charges in the mountains, we can block this,” says one of the demons wearing the colors of Iron Reach.
“Or doom us all,” the Warden snaps back. “Let’s add a rockslide to the coming flood.”
“Only reason there will be a flood is because you care more about your trees than your citizens!”
The Warden’s chest puffs up, and the Iron soldier widens his stance, both posturing for a fight.
“Enough,” Xandril growls. “We will continue as we have been. I will join where I’ll be of most use. I want to know if conditions change—we retreat when it’s time. Understood?”
Both demons nod, the tension still thick in the air as they go their separate ways.
Xandril stands staring at the work crews, the piles of rock and debris, the effort to fill bags with sand, and he’s got the same weight on his shoulders that I’ve come to recognize so well.
He doesn’t move when I slip my hand into his, doesn’t look my way, but he squeezes my hand back.
“This is my fault,” he says, his voice painfully flat. Distant.
“It’s not,” I insist.
“It is. I was warned. The archdruid told me—”
“The batty old talking hillside? What did she say that has you so rattled?”
Xandril looks down at me, warmth and resignation in his eyes. “It’s too late to change now.”
I frown, stepping around so that I’m directly in front of him, only inches away.
“We’re not giving up the fight, remember?” I say, holding his gaze with mine, refusing to let him look away or deflect. “We’re in this together. And no matter what happens here, Emerald will prevail.”
His expression is grim, but he nods. “It will.”
“Good.” I smile, and then without ever making the decision to, I stand on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “For luck,” I say.
A low rumble vibrates through Xandril’s chest, and his arms close around me as he pulls me back into the kiss.
Mine was just a peck. A simple brush of my lips against his. Shy and still not certain how he’d react.
His is…everything. Xandril’s arms form a cage around me, his muscles supporting me as he pulls me up to him while bending to meet me.
His lips are firm and warm, and leave me breathless, thoughtless, driven only by my need for more.
His hand on my lower back pulls me flush against him, and as our tongues find each other, I groan, melting into his heat and strength.
“The reach has never been more lucky than it is to have you,” he says, his massive hand cupping the side of my face.
“And you,” I say, turning into his palm to press a kiss there before I take a step back. “Be careful!”
Tears well in my eyes as he jogs off toward the raging river. I don’t know how I’m going to sit idly by while he risks himself to help these people.
Luckily, there’s no shortage of tasks to busy myself with.
The only thing keeping my worries and emotions in check is constant movement, so I join in with some of the villagers to organize relief.
There have already been some homes flooded further upriver in the low-lying areas, and those families have gathered outside Stoneberry Rise, everyone seeking higher ground.
Efforts are jumbled and in disarray when I first join, fear and uncertainty robbing some of reason, but we slowly begin to make order from chaos.
After a few hours of non-stop work, we have a handful of tents with cots set up, as well as a designated area for refugees and workers alike to warm by the fire, dry off, and have a hot meal.
Food was the most difficult aspect; with times as lean as they are, no one has the means to feed dozens of strangers without it coming from their own family’s mouths. Having assurances from the Crown that they’ll be taken care of for their generosity makes a world of difference.
No matter how busy I stay, I can’t keep my mind entirely occupied.
Every fresh downpour and howl of wind makes my blood chill, my heart seized for a moment.
I look down toward the valley more often than I should, each time saying a silent prayer that Xandril will be all right.
That I’ll see him walking up over that rise, weary and exhausted, but whole.
The hours stretch on, the number of evacuees growing, and my betrothed is still unaccounted for.
Of course he is, I reassure myself. It’s Xandril. He will be the last one standing long after everyone else has abandoned the battle.
And that’s what scares me so much. I know how willing he is to give everything to this reach and these people.
Today he seemed more than willing. He seemed almost…ready.
My stomach twists, and I swallow the acid burning the back of my throat. I can’t let myself think like that. I can’t let myself give up on him.
“Ow, ow, ow,” a small child cries from one of the nearby cots in the field hospital. We’ve been fortunate that most injuries have been minor so far, but if the dam breaks, that won’t be the case for long.
“Oh no, what did you do?” I ask, crouching next to their bedside.
If the child was human, I’d guess they were no more than five or six, but I’ve no idea how demon aging works. They’re small, though, and obviously young by the way their parents hover close by while a volunteer cleans the scrape on the boy’s arm.
“I fell,” he says, sniffling, his mottled skin streaked with tears.
I look up to his parents who regard me with a peculiar look.
Right. We’re not near the capital anymore. News of the king’s human bride might have traveled this far, but that doesn’t mean these people ever actually expected to see me. I must be as strange to them as demons were to me when I first arrived.
“I-I was t-trying to save,” the boy wails.
“It was only a toy, Pryn,” the father says.
“He’s my friend!” the child cries again.
“What you did is very brave,” I say, still crouched so we’re eye-to-eye. This boy might be a demon with horns and claws, but when I look at him, I only see my little brother who fell from the neighbor’s fruit tree. “You did what any good and loyal friend would do. What was your friend’s name?”
“Elay,” he sniffles, the scrape on his arm forgotten.
“Well, I’m quite sure Elay is very grateful for your efforts. But do you think he would want you to hurt yourself for him?”
Pryn’s face scrunches. “No, but… but…”
“I know it’s hard to say goodbye, especially to someone you love. What’s the best thing you and Elay ever did together?”
His face scrunches in thought again. “The best?” he echoes. “Um… Hiding maybe…or climbing… No, finding rocks! He finds the best…”
Pryn rattles on about the rocks and other treasures he’s found with his toy friend, but something else has caught my attention—shouting.
I look up to the parents and they hear it too.
The shouts are coming from the distance, down toward the valley. They’re too far to make out, but the urgency is unmistakable.
“Excuse me,” I say, slipping away quickly but calmly, not wanting to alarm the child. It’s nearly dusk, but the heavy clouds in the sky make it feel much later, and I have to squint down toward the river to be able to see anything at all.
The shouts keep coming, and they’re getting louder, more frantic, and that’s when I finally see it.
A dark wall of water rushes down the valley, erasing everything in its path.
Instead of running away from it like I should, my instincts send me racing toward it.
“Get to higher ground!” I cry as I run through the village spreading the warning as far as I can. “The river’s coming!”