Between Fear and Favor (Divine Between #3)

Chapter 1

EMMELINE

Thirty-nine days.

That’s how long it had been since Theo died.

Since I let him die.

It had been thirty-nine days since we’d brought as many people into the walls of the city as we could, protecting them from the Supreme’s attack. We’d filled family homes with strangers. We’d arranged for refugees from outside of the city to be brought under our protection, and we’d moved the people of the Wend as far from the outer wall as we could—and we’d dealt with the rancor amongst the court when the high-born didn’t like it.

We’d done everything right after doing so much wrong, and we were still going to lose.

My hands shook as I stepped back from the prone body before me. Though Hanwen had blessed me with more divinity than I ever thought I could have needed, I’d poured nearly all of my divine power into the injured soldiers. My head was aching, and I couldn’t risk pulling from Rain’s divinity or else I’d put him in danger. I could barely feel him on the other end of our bond, so I wasn’t even sure I could take from him. Absent-mindedly, I traced over the edges of those golden threads, wondering if he could feel the ripple of my touch. I missed him desperately, but at least I could feel him. That was my only solace.

“Your Majesty?” the woman beside me asked, looking down at the dying soldier on the cot beside her.

“I can’t do anything more for him,” I said, my voice little more than a croak.

Malva nodded, pulling out a blade from the pocket of her apron. I turned away, afraid the bile rising in my throat might spill over at the sight.

“Damn the gods,” she murmured before gently gripping my arm. “You’re not much use here without your divinity. Go rest before they bring the others in.”

My stomach tightened.

The others.

How many would die while I rested? How many would be touched by Cethina’s blight while I tossed and turned in a bed without finding sleep?

Malva saw my hesitance, pressing her hand into my lower back. “She’ll have to rest too, the blasted bitch.”

Swallowing, I attempted to let her words give me solace. She was right; I’d be useless without replenishing my divinity. Nereza’s assassin daughter had arrived only a week into the siege, and the divinity gifted to her by Ciarden had been used to torment and maim. Infiltrating the blood through a wound, Cethina’s shadows twisted and turned within the bloodstream and caused burning pain until reaching its victim’s heart and stopping it.

I was the only one who could do anything about it.

I supposed if anyone else had been blessed by both Aonara and Ciarden, they could have stopped the shadows while using the goddess’s light to banish the malevolence. But I was the only one within our walls with such blessings.

“If no one else arrives within the quarter hour, I will go,” I said, turning away from my helper. She wasn’t a divine healer, but the woman knew her way around an injury. While conduits used their divine gifts to heal, helpers like Malva worked tirelessly to assist where they could.

Malva made a soft clucking noise, the closest she dared come to reprimanding me. It reminded me so painfully of Nana, my heart nearly refused to beat. It had been thirty-nine days since I’d lost her, and I was constantly surprised whenever I thought of her. I’d gone so long with her just out of sight, it was hard to remember she was gone. We’d lived so close yet so far from each other for years, it almost seemed like she was still alive. But I knew better. In just a few short minutes, I’d lost two people I cared about tremendously and came dangerously close to losing a third.

How many people within the city had also experienced such losses? How many people had been killed by Declan’s flying creatures? The attack had been targeted on my family, but there were many who fell before we’d been found. How many children had nightmares of those horrifying monsters? How many men had been forced to defend our walls, losing their lives in the process? How many of our people had lost family members to Cethina’s divine blight?

I was not unique in my grief, but it threatened to drown me nonetheless.

Malva brought a wet cloth, pressing it into my hands so I could clean them. I scrubbed at the ichor and gore while my helper stepped closer. Wiping my hands on my apron, I frowned at the patterned dress beneath. I’d have preferred to wear trousers, but I hadn’t been back to the estate in some time. By the time I retired each night, I hadn’t had the divinity left within me to rift, so I’d settled for what was closest. The only clothing I had at the palace was gowns; though I chose the simple ones, they were still more audacious than I’d have liked.

Quietly, Malva asked, “Is she safe?”

I swallowed and closed my eyes tightly. The constant weight upon my chest only grew heavier as I thought of my daughter. “Yes.”

“Good,” Malva replied. “I know it was hard, but you did the right thing.”

Biting my lip, I turned away from the woman. When I’d sent Elora away at the start of the Supreme’s siege upon Astana, I hadn’t expected her to speak to me, even to say goodbye. Her anger and sorrow were too raw, and she still blamed me for everything. But when she’d addressed her most recent letter only to Rain, something had broken within me. My daughter hadn’t spoken to me in thirty-eight days, and it was possible she would never speak to me again.

Elora wouldn’t be without justification. I’d let her friend die. Theo was the only constant in her life that hadn’t betrayed her in some way, and he was gone because of me. It didn’t matter that Theo likely would have died with or without my interference. I loved Dewalt, and I was so thankful he lived between mine and Rainier’s interference, but every single day Elora didn’t speak to me, I wondered if perhaps I made the wrong decision.

I’d watched Theo learn how to walk. I’d seen him nearly every single day of his life. And I hadn’t even tried to save him first? I’d listened to his heart and looked at his injury, and had decided he was a lost cause. Was I arrogant in my dismissal? At the time, I’d weighed their lives against my ability to heal them—hadn’t I? Or had I been biased, choosing my own childhood friend over hers?

I had to believe I had acted appropriately, but I would live with those regrets for the rest of my life. I wished I had tried—for Elora—even if he died anyway.

But I supposed I’d failed her in so many ways already. What was one more to add to a long list of mistakes? All I could do was make up for it now by protecting her. Sending her away was the last thing I wanted to do, but Astana wasn’t safe for her anymore. Even Crown Cottage wasn’t guarded enough, as far as I was concerned. But I trusted Thyra.

If we didn’t win this war, my Second would flee eastward with my daughter, taking care of her in Skos—or perhaps somewhere farther east. And by now, I knew Shivani would do what she could to protect her granddaughter. Elora would likely be sought after the rest of her life if she was the heir to an abandoned throne, but there was little else we could do.

I’d failed her by not realizing Faxon wasn’t her father, by coming here in the first place and marrying Rain afterward. I’d failed the people of Vesta by becoming their Queen. Because even if I ran, they were still targets. The Supreme wanted the Beloved, and he would use my people and my loved ones to get to me. In stealing some happiness for myself, I’d stolen the livelihoods of so many people who counted on me. The only reason I hadn’t handed myself over already was because of Cyran’s warning and Rainier’s insistence.

The fate of the Three Kingdoms rested in my weary hands. If I died, there would never be peace. But as I watched brave soldiers perish beneath those same blood-stained hands every day, it was hard to believe in a prophecy in which I was the one who would find the solution.

How was I supposed to carry this burden?

“I’m going now,” I told Malva. I realized I’d been staring at the white cloth of the healer’s tent, unable to focus on anything other than the weight of a prophecy which promised death or duty I never asked for. I knew I needed to rest, but sleep had eluded me for weeks. Upon waking from brief stints of unconsciousness, I was always worse for wear. Groggy and irritable, I often wondered if those few hours were worth it. The guard who’d been tasked with escorting me everywhere lifted his head. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought his ears pricked up like a dog sensing an incoming command.

Rifting outside the palace was impossible, thanks to the city’s wards. It was probably for the best, considering if I attempted a rift, my head would likely cleave in two. My divinity was strained from chasing after Cethina’s wretched curse all day, and so I began the long walk toward the palace. I’d planned to finish writing my most recent letter to Elora when I took a brief respite, but as I hurried up the road, I grew despondent.

Though I had tried to apologize before Elora left, words wouldn’t bring back Theo. Nothing was enough, and I wondered if I could ever explain the depth of my regret. I’d written letters to which I received no response, and part of me wondered if I should have given up. She would write to me when she was ready—if that ever happened. Pestering her would only push my daughter farther away.

I knew I should rest—that I was no use without my divinity—and I needed my wits about me. But the idea of going to my chambers, where I would see Rain’s letter written in her hand, was too much to bear. Instead, I motioned for my trailing guard to follow me to the Wend.