Chapter 47 #2
“Make no mistake, General.” Rune’s voice filled the chamber with a ruthless calm that made Alora shiver.
“The Calveron line will end tonight. Your names will be forgotten in the ash, your bones consumed by the earth. I have no mercy to spare but this. Your answer will determine how quick and painless your deaths will be.”
The of Alora’s heart thundered in her ears.
She looked away once Rune got his answer.
His shadows veiled around her gently, shielding her view and silencing all screams. She shook against him, shutting her eyes tight. His anger softened, and he brushed the tear rolling down her cheek.
Please, no more.
Every single one of their souls will be dragged to through the Seven Hells, Rune murmured, lifting her face. For daring to touch what is mine.
But they did touch her.
Her chest heaved as she lost air, her vision spinning. Shadows curled around her protectively and the atrocity of that room vanished.
In the next breath, she was no longer in Argyle.
Alora landed on the soft bedding, the air carrying the scent of her garden and shadow smoke. They’d returned to the cottage in the woods instead of the mountain.
She looked up to find Rune beside her. His wings and horns had vanished beneath glamor again, as if to take away all that would frighten her.
“Forgive me. I should have brought you here first.” He sat beside her, gently pulling her into an embrace. “You are safe now. Nothing will ever harm you again.”
Her chest heaved with sobs, shaking her as she simply crumbled.
Rune drew into his arms wrapped and laid them back on the bed, holding her against his chest. His warmth seeped into her bones, taking away every hurt, healing every wound.
His lips drifted over her cheek and lashes, catching every tear.
Rune didn’t speak as her cries quieted into trembling breaths. He simply held her tightly, as if anchoring her to something softer than everything she’d endured. But she was covered in dirt, blood, and the stench of Eldrik’s scent.
Then, slowly, the shadows shifted as Rune rose and went to the folding screen.
There was a flash of red magic, then she heard water sloshing.
Wordlessly, he returned and carried her to the bath.
He helped her undress then sink into the steaming water.
Alora barely registered the sensation of warmth creeping beneath her skin.
Water lapped against her, scented with crushed roses and lavender.
Candlelight danced across the walls, golden and soft, casting long shadows that moved like whispers.
Rune sat on a bench beside the bathtub and gently scrubbed her back with cloth.
A cloth touched her shoulder, warm and wet. She flinched instinctively.
Rune paused. “I’ve got you, love.”
She closed her eyes.
The tenderness in his touch, the care and love behind it was too much. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as her body shook. She wrapped her arms around herself. Even in the hot bath, her body felt cold.
Sensing that, Rune stood as his clothing dissolved away. Darkness coiled around his hips, veiling him from view. Whether for his decency, or for her comfort, his one intention was to tend her.
Alora shifted aside to make room as he slipped into the bath with her. He sat behind her in the water, silent and still, his legs bracketing hers beneath the surface. His chest was a warm wall of quiet heat at her back, and she felt every breath he took as if it belonged to her.
She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her throat was tight, her body sore. She was aware of every ache, every wound, every phantom pain. But the water was warm.
And Rune’s presence… it was soothing.
He picked up the cloth again and washed her with gentle, deliberate patience, cleansing the dried blood from her skin, the grime from her arms. His magic gently moved through her, easing her ache, erasing the bruises from her ribs.
His fingers followed the path of the cloth, gentle and careful, never lingering too long.
Alora tried not to flinch at every touch of skin he tended.
She focused on the sound of water lapping softly around them. The way it cradled her body. The ghost of steam against her cheeks. Rune’s fingers trembled slightly as a flicker of red magic soothed a cut on her knuckles.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered at last, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
“Yes, I do,” he said.
And there was no darkness in it.
Only gentle affection.
By the time he reached her back, she had nearly melted into him. The cloth moved in slow, circular strokes, paired with the warm slide of his palm.
No one had ever touched her like this. Not possessively. Not out of duty. But tenderly. Like she was a doll made of glass that he feared may break.
“It was maddening when I couldn’t reach you,” Rune murmured as he worked.
He lifted her arm, his thumb brushing magic over a scrape on her elbow.
Then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, cleaning her neck.
“I was ready to unleash my court and bring the castle down. But I couldn’t, knowing you were there in the crypts.
I could feel your suffering, your terror. ”
His voice wavered and his palm paused on her chest, over her heart.
“No punishment of the sun could compare to the agony I felt in that moment.” Rune lowered his head on hers, his arms wrapping around her as he held her tight. “No wards should have kept you from me.”
Yet Eldrik’s had.
The thought slipped through her, sharp as a splinter. She didn’t want to follow it. Not now. Not with the ache in her wrists still throbbing, ghost-pain from the bindings biting into her skin.
“Lady Zinnia?” she asked tiredly.
“She had been detained in the castle. Calla released her.”
Alora blinked, trying to piece together what that meant. Rune’s suspicion flickered through the bond, a shadowed thought she caught in passing: How had a fae managed to contain a demigoddess? Was Zinnia in league with him?
“No…” Alora rasped before the idea could fully take shape. “Eldrik used enchanted black stones to pin me in place. I could not move or muster my magic.”
The words scraped her throat. She remembered the weight of the onyx stones on her limbs, the way her body had gone heavy and useless, as if someone had poured iron into her veins.
Rune fell silent, and the bond roiled with the tempest of his anger, but he delved no more, perhaps sensing now was not the time.
Scooping her against his chest, he carried her out of the bath with one arm.
Shadows wrapped around her like silk, drying her damp skin and hair.
She didn’t protest as he laid her in the bed like something fragile.
He had already magically enchanted a new set of clothes for himself.
A silken black nightgown settled on her like a soft cloud.
She took his wrist, pulling him close so she could press her face against his chest.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
“I am not going anywhere.” Rune laid beside her, and she curled into him, shutting her eyes.
“He… siphoned my magic.” Alora whispered. Her voice wavered, her mouth trembling.
Magic, she had not had for long, yet it had become such an integral part of her in such a short time. Losing it left her hollow. Was this how Rune had felt?
He rumbled quietly. “That which belongs to you will be returned, songbird. I swear it.”
And she sensed the icy presence of Death already hanging over Eldrik’s head.
Alora shut her eyes. “What… what will you do to him?”
“Whatever you command. If my queen wants someone dead, I will answer with ruin.”
She met Rune’s softly glowing eyes. His fury and bloodlust hummed in the bond, but he would bend to her will and do whatever she asked of him. He’d spare him if she chose. Eviscerate him at her command. Kill him a thousand ways.
But could she do that? Allow herself to sink into that darkness?
Yes.
Eldrik killed her father. Tormented her people. Tortured her.
She wanted him dead.
“His soul will never know peace ever again,” Rune rumbled, having heard her thoughts. The back of his finger wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek. “Not even in death.”
A silvery shimmer of magic rippled through the atmosphere. Alora shivered as his words brand themselves in her soul.
A god’s promise.
The room was quiet but alive with the hum of something ancient and safe.
Shadows curled along the edges of the stone walls, not menacing tonight, but gentle, like folds of silk brushing against candlelight.
Her head rested against Rune’s chest, and his arms were circled loosely around her, hands tucked under the folds of her blanket like they belonged there because they did.
She simply breathed. Slow, unsteady at first, like her body was remembering how. Rune didn’t push her. He didn’t ask questions.
Alora feared if she moved, she may fall apart.
He simply pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Sleep,” he whispered, his fingers brushing lazy circles against her side. “I have you.”
And Seven help her, he did.
Not in the possessive, all-consuming way he usually carried her. But in this rare, stripped-down version of himself. The one that existed when the world wasn’t watching. The one that let his voice drop into velvet when she was too tired to lift her own.
His shadows reached over her like a second blanket cool, comforting, like dusk itself had come to cradle her.
And for the first time in days, Alora didn’t feel like a prisoner.
She felt… safe.
Ironic that she found it now in darkness.
Her body relaxed, drifting. Her lashes fluttered shut. His fingers brushed over her wrist, where her pulse beat weakly.
“You do not need to be made of light all the time, Alora,” Rune whispered. “You can find rest in the dark, too.”
With me.
Her lashes lifted enough to look at him. In the golden firelight, he looked like a dream she never dared want. A creature of darkness. A terror who made others shake in their beds.
Yet he was the warmth in hers.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. Another to her cheek. Then one more, softer than a breath, to the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes.
Rune’s hand moved up, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”
“Even if the stars fall?”
“Even if the sun forgets to rise.”
Alora gave the smallest smile, wondering if that meant he would stay with her eternally. And the thought didn’t scare her anymore. The shadows flickered in response, wrapping around them like blanket.
Just before she fell asleep, she heard his voice, low and certain.
Forever.