Chapter 44 #2
Moira’s sobs consumed the very essence of her body.
She’d been warned about everything she could expect regarding Kienna, but she never saw Tislin’s death coming.
Living in a world without the man who made her tea in the morning and called her Sunbeam…
Her heart ached, and she didn’t think it would ever recover.
She regretted everything about their last interaction.
She only wished she’d kissed him fully with no regrets.
He made her feel important despite everything about her.
He taught her the history of herself and fought to be the best man he could be, especially for her.
She remained on her knees long after the ritual was finished, long after the soldiers melted back into the streets.
The dead surrounded her, unnoticed. When the clouds rolled in and rain broke over her skin, she didn’t react.
Moira couldn’t move. Her world had narrowed to a single moment—her hand on Tislin’s arm, the quiet plea in her chest as she asked him to stay with her.
He didn’t stay with her. He left her, and he died, taking her heart with him when he did. Moira didn’t want to live inside that moment, not without him. She wanted to go to the Goldmere, to sink beneath its surface and settle at the bottom where Tislin’s body might be.
Grief like this… She had never known it.
“Come on, Moira.” Tristian’s hand steadied her.
She looked up only to see a hardened version of Tislin. He helped her off the ground, then stood there staring past her.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” she sobbed.
“He was…he was…he—” Moira couldn’t finish her sentence, cut off from her own heaving.
Tristian pulled her into him, something she never expected, but she embraced it.
He was the only thing she had left of Tislin now.
She could either push that away or pull it close.
She let herself fall into her brokenness, listening to Tristian’s heartbeat irregularly, his lungs inhaling sporadically. They stayed like that for a while.
“Thank you, Moira. For loving him.” Tristian said it quietly into her hair. Then, he released her. “I can have one of my soldiers take you home. That is, if it’s still standing.”
Moira shook her head. “I’ll go alone. Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t be on the streets on your own while there might still be—”
“Please.” Moira held up her hand, fighting the tears that bubbled behind her eyes. She wanted to be alone more than anything. Tislin’s loss hit her as violently as a storm tearing down a door.
—Danek—
Danek placed Kienna in bed. Her apartment had fallen apart from the ground shaking during the battle, but the overall structure still held its integrity. He pulled the covers over her feverish body, staring as she rested.
“I’m sorry,” Kienna sobbed.
Danek sat and stroked her hair, the dried ooze of blood caked into each strand. He shushed her, his own hand full of the remains of battle. “I’ve got you.”
Kienna turned into him, her chest rising and falling with grief. “Who else died tonight?”
“Too many,” Danek whispered. “But not us.”
She lifted her chin to him, the deep blue searching him for answers. Her hands floated to the mark above his temple. “Don’t leave me.”
Danek gave a grim smile. “Never.”
He pulled her into him. They both needed baths and fresh clothes. The rot of Vorthakai guts covered their skin, and Danek didn’t think the smell would go away with one wash. He’d bear it for her, though, to feel Kienna’s steady breath against his body. Knowing she was alive.
Lingering on her tangled, bloodied hair, Danek placed his face against her head.
In the quiet, he heard the silence of the Bow of the Bough in his mind.
Echoes of weapons meeting stone, the absence of breath.
The weight of Tislin’s death… It hadn’t left him.
He didn’t think it ever would, but the warmth of Kienna next to him eased him into sleep.
—Connak—
Hours passed from the battle’s end. Connak stared out into the bridge, shattered by the river. It slowed, though the clouds overhead returned with drops of water plunging to the ground. Moira’s doing, no doubt. The water poured as deep as the sobs she heaved back in the square.
Tislin loved her with more than he had to give.
Connak couldn’t miss the way her warm smiles and the glow of the sun lit him up and chased away the shadows.
With her mourning, Connak didn’t mind the rain.
He preferred it, reveling in her grief summoned unconsciously through the spiraling emotions of magic.
The skies wept for her, as they did for Tislin.
The war was destined to steal more than energy and patience.
It was meant to steal lives, as all wars would.
Still, Connak never thought he would feel so responsible for being the one who started it.
He broke the barrier in River Storm. He took Kienna from the king.
He set the traps by the bridge. In a burst of booming thunder, his guilt was followed by a twinge of resentment toward Kienna, which only flooded him with more shame.
The moment it surfaced, he hated himself for it.
She didn’t ask for any of this. None of them did.
Rain dripped coldly against his tan skin.
Anger swirled through his chest, overcoming him to the point of no return. Shadows danced closely around his eyes—almost too closely. He had to strengthen his stance and tighten his fists to halt the thoughts from continuing.
It would have been easy for him to throw his wrath at Kienna.
He desperately wanted to. She behaved like a young, unseasoned soldier who had no idea what weight she had to carry, while he put it all on his shoulders to carry for her.
He wanted to blame her for the path of his life.
He was thrust into River Storm as a child for her.
He lost his years, only to have two of his own in Holbeck before being thrust back to River Storm.
He could have given up on Kienna right then and there.
At least Tislin would be alive. Connak would be in Holbeck. He’d have Tavren…
He stopped himself again.
Connak silently raised his hand to the heavens as if Tislin could feel it.
His eyes were deep on the trickling river where Tislin fell.
The time was now to let go of the pain to ensure the world continued moving forward.
He heaved a shaky breath from his lungs and gave way to a sudden prick in his mind, telling him something was not right with Kienna.
The sudden urge to rush to her came pouring back, though he wished he felt otherwise. He failed to listen to it before and nearly showed up too late to save her. Dragging his hand over his face, he scanned the city in search of the pull, then ran toward the apartments that overlooked the Lysiria.