38. Thalia
THALIA
H ours had passed, the sun long since replaced by the moon and her beautiful glow.
Micah had left to fetch another candle for us to continue working into the night, completing the final adjustments to the census.
We knew the numbers, had discussed them, but to see the names, to see the physical evidence of the loss of life…
It was painful.
Just a few more notations, and we would be finished updating the records for Salwa. I dipped the quill in the ink, ready to write out the final record of souls found deceased.
A sharp crack reached my ear as the ink bottle split in half, spilling ink across the table. I cursed, swiping the parchment away before it could be ruined.
“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath as I set the parchment aside and looked at the broken bottle. I ran a hand over my face before turning to search for something to clean up the mess. Perhaps it was a sign I should quit for the night, get some sleep.
“She’s in labor?” Micah’s voice reached my ears from the hall, and I stilled.
“Damien retrieved the midwives a few hours ago,” one of the servants said.
I rushed into the hall, my heart in my throat. “Have you heard anything since?”
The servant turned to me, her eyes wide as she shook her head. I glanced back at the broken bottle at my desk, my heart stilling before I shoved past her. Micah called after me, the sound of his boots barely audible over the roaring in my ears.
The hot night air rushed over me as I burst through the door. Darkness swallowed me as I gave into the shift, feathers overtaking my body before I took to the sky, desperate to see that Lucia was all right.
“Thalia, wait!” Micah called, but I didn’t, couldn’t .
How long had she been in labor? Was the baby already here? My mind raced, every terrifying thought rising to counteract any ounce of excitement I felt. I hadn’t seen her since I’d turned down the promotion a week prior.
Pain ricocheted through my talons and into my legs as I hit the ground outside their home, shifting back into my immortal form. The house was silent as I rushed through the door, and my heart sank.
The scent of blood and freshly fallen rain hit my nose, and the air halted in my lungs. My hands shook as I hurried down the hall, my feet cemented in place when I found Barrett and Zephyr sitting in the hall, their faces in their hands.
Pressure built in my chest, making it more and more difficult to breathe with each second. Barrett lifted his head, his eyes red and swollen as he found me. He didn’t speak, and I wanted so badly for him to tell me everything was all right, that she was all right.
Say it… Fucking tell me she’s okay.
He drew a deep breath and shook his head.
No.
The room blurred.
My gaze snagged on the door nearby, and I stumbled toward it.
Barrett shot to his feet. “Thalia?—”
I shoved the door open, halting in the entry as I found her laid out on the bed.
The room was quiet, candles lit on every surface, their soft glow dancing across her pale skin. Her black hair dusted the bed in a soft blanket beneath her, her hands folded neatly across her still-swollen stomach.
It was as if she was merely sleeping.
Barrett stopped at my side as I stood frozen next to the bed.
“She...” My voice broke .
“It happened so fast,” he said in barely more than a whisper.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “She can’t be gone.”
He pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly, as if he could shelter me from this pain, this agony.
Zephyr appeared in the doorway, his cheeks stained with tears, his pale green eyes just as red and swollen as Barrett’s. The sight of his tears, knowing he had now lost his sister twice...
“Damien,” I said, looking around.
Barrett drew an uneven breath. “He’s with Emilia.”
“Is she all right?” I asked.
He nodded. “They’re tending to her now.”
My knees shook as I turned my gaze back to Lucia, and I stumbled toward her bedside, reaching out to touch her. My fingers trembled, fear rising within me that she might vanish before I could feel that she was real.
As my fingers met her cold hand, a sob tore from me so violently, I thought it might shatter me—break me into shards too tiny to piece back together.
I leaned over her, wishing I could see her smile one more time, hear her laughter, talk to her once more, even if only to tell her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. Gods, she didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to have every chance at happiness torn from her.
Tears dripped onto Lucia’s pale cheeks as I leaned over her, praying she might open her eyes, might offer me that reassuring smile she always shared. She always had a way to fix things, a way to get out of the worst.
I crumbled to the floor at her side, unable to let go, unable to accept that she was truly gone...
Unable to release her to whatever evil took her from us.