Chapter 45
Forty-Five
Sabina
We make camp in a wooded area not far from the main road. Anya and I share a pallet covered with furs. She’s asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow but I lay there, listening to the sounds of the camp.
The two of us kept to ourselves all day and I avoided even looking at either Brevan or Caiden. Thankfully, they were busy every time I saw them.
Aside from a short conversation over a dinner of fish that someone caught in the nearby stream, Caiden seems to be avoiding me as well.
I have to fight against the mild disappointment that builds like a threatening rainstorm on a festival day.
I’ve gotten so used to his company that it feels strange to have that vacancy there.
Boots crunch outside the tent and hurried murmurs are exchanged. I can’t make out the words, but the tone seems urgent. More footsteps, then the sounds of running and shouting.
My pulse kicks up and I sit. Anya turns, but doesn’t wake. No sense dragging her into something if she’s safer in here. I creep to the entry and pull aside one of the tent flaps. The legionaries who were standing at my tent are a few feet away, staring at something I can’t see.
I step into the cold night air and cross my arms over my chest. The guards are so focused on the commotion, they don’t even notice me approach.
Several legionnaires are gathered in a group, surrounding something.
I take a few more steps, then notice there’s more legionnaires on their knees, bound like prisoners.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
The legionnaire nearest me flinches, as if surprised by me. I press my lips into a tight, annoyed line. If someone attacked us, this man is not going to be much use.
“Your majesty, you should be in your tent,” he says.
“What is happening?” I demand.
“They had elm’s breath in their bags,” the other legionnaire says.
“What?” I take a few steps closer, trying to identify the restrained men.
“Enforcer insisted on checking all the bags personally,” he explains.
I notice Caiden approach the prisoners. Even from this distance, I can see the rage in his expression. He’s giving orders I can’t hear, but when he walks away from the torches that border our camp and into the woods, several legionnaires drag the restrained men behind him.
There’s six in total, stumbling and fighting as they’re prodded forward.
“Servants of death, those,” the guard near me says.
My brow furrows at the unusual choice of words. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just something I heard when I was stationed at the ports,” he says.
“What did you hear?” I ask.
“That elm’s breath. I’ve seen it before. We’d have people try to smuggle it in. They called it Mara’s flower, though. The people from Ashendune might have different names for things but we have the same gods.”
Mara’s fucking flower?
It takes everything I have to keep the scream that’s clawing at my throat from breaking free. My jaw hurts from how tightly I’m clenching and my fingernails bite into my palms. Why didn’t anyone mention that sooner?
Caiden and his captives are no longer in view. I weigh my options. If I chase after him, I might be able to ask some questions of my own, but there’s a possibility he’s already killed them. If I go in the opposite direction, I might be able to get enough privacy that I can demand Mara show herself.
“And he’s still in his tent?” A guard walking by asks the other man with him. They don’t seem to notice me standing there.
“You’d think he’d be the one torturing the traitors,” the second guard responds.
“Maybe he touched the plant,” the first suggests.
All my anger sluices away and fear makes my blood run cold. I glance around quickly, taking in the layout of the tents. Then I see it, the tent that’s just a little beyond the others.
The legionaries who’d been guarding my tent have started talking with the newcomers. I back away, toward my tent, then slip around it, hoping they think I returned inside.
Then I race toward the end of camp, sticking to the shadows. If what they were saying has any hint of truth, Brevan could be in serious trouble.
I don’t hesitate to dart inside when I reach the tent I suspect of belonging to the enforcer.
There’s a lamp glowing in the corner, illuminating the tiny space. He’s on the ground in the middle of the floor, eyes closed, lips blue.
I’m on my knees by his side in an instant. “Brevan? Brevan, wake up.” My fingers move to his throat, desperate to find a pulse. I lean closer and notice the beginnings of black veinlike markings spreading from his lips.
“No.” I brush his hair from his eyes, then grasp his face in my hands. “Wake up, Brevan. I am not letting you die. Understand? You are staying here. I am not ready to give up on you.”
His breathing is shallow, but it’s there. He’s not dead yet. I refuse to allow him to leave me. “Mara, you can’t have him. Do you hear me? You will not take him from me.”
Tears stream down my cheeks and rage burns in my chest but the goddess doesn’t respond. “I hate you. You’ve given me nothing but burden. You wasted your gift on me. I won’t do what you demand. You hear me? You take him from me and I will do whatever I can to make sure you never get what you want.”
I trace the black markings with my fingertips, as if I can brush them away and stop the poison that’s spreading though his veins.
I try to think back to the books I read.
There’s an antidote for elm’s breath, but this isn’t the normal reaction.
This is like the poison that took those Juliette and we still don’t know what caused that.
I lean over him and press my lips to his. They’re freezing cold, and he doesn’t respond at all to my touch. My tears drip on him and I take hold of his face again. I’m breathing too fast. The room feels like it’s spinning.
“Brevan, can you hear me?” There’s a part of me that expects to hear his corpse speaking to me any second. I swear I can feel the tiniest thread of his life flickering like a dying ember.
It radiates though me, a little pulse of life, growing weaker by the second.
I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on it.
If I let it go, I think he’d be gone. As much as I want to speak to him, I can’t let go of that pulse.
I’m not ready. I hold on tight, fighting to keep it burning as it tries to sputter and fade.
My whole body heats, and I imagine that I’m wrapping my own warmth around that pulse, feeding it, protecting it, fueling it.
There’s a buzzing in my ears, soft and soothing.
I lean into it, letting it course through me, growing it until it’s more like a roar than a buzz.
But it’s empowering rather than dangerous.
The flicker intensifies, burning stronger and brighter. It’s not pulsing anymore. Instead it hums. A new sensation emerges that I can’t identify. Fear, surprise, curiosity. Satisfaction.
That’s when I realize the skin against my hands isn’t cold anymore. My eyes snap open and I stare down at Brevan. His lips are pink, his skin is regaining its color and warmth. The black veins are gone and his chest rises and falls in steady cadence.
My lower lip trembles and I move my hands away. Was that me? Did I do that? Did I save him?
“Still want to curse my name, daughter?” Mara asks.
I flinch when I see her standing in the corner.
“I told you to stop fighting your power,” she scolds.
“I didn’t know I could do that,” I say.
“There are many things you can do. The power of death doesn’t only apply to the dead.”
“I can—save people?” My chest feels like it might cave under the heavy weight pressing into me. Where was this when my father was killed? My mother? My brothers? Why didn’t I save Katherine or Juliette?
“Don’t ask yourself those questions,” Mara warns.
My mouth is dry. I hate that she knows what I’m thinking.
“You weren’t ready,” she says. “Stop fighting it.”
I glance down at the enforcer. His breathing is steady, his chest rising and falling effortlessly. Tears blur my vision. I almost lost him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Do what you need to do. What you promised me you’d do. This empire must fall. I gave you this power for a reason and you are wasting it,” she scolds.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“No apologies. The end is coming soon. Be ready.”
“How will I know when it’s time?” My gut twists. I don’t even bother asking for her to give me a name.
“You’ll know.”
“Just tell me, then. I’ve been researching for weeks. Why can’t you just say it?” I’m practically screaming at her.
For a brief moment, I swear I see sorrow in her expression, then it shifts and she’s smiling. “My reasons are my own, daughter. But it matters little to me if you find the answers. If you fail, I’ll find someone else.”
“You’re lying. You chose me for a reason,” I say.
“Yes, I did. Do try to live up to the expectations I’ve set on you, will you? I’d hate to discover I made another mistake.” A cloud of shadows swallows her, then fades almost as quickly as it arrived.
Another mistake? There was someone before me.
“Taylan? Is that you?” Brevan’s fingers brush against my cheek.
I grab his hand. “Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”
“Gods, I thought I lost you.” He slides his hand around the back of my head and pulls me down to him. Our lips collide and I taste salt. Tears stream down my cheeks and I pull away, despite my thundering heart and desperation to continue.
“I love you.” I don’t tear my gaze from his or wipe the tears away. “I’m married to another man, but he’s not you. And I’m tired of trying to fight my feelings for you.”
He cups my face with one of his large hands. It’s warm and rough and I lean into it like a cat begging for attention. “I tried so fucking hard to fight this between us, but I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to stay away from you. It’s killing me.”
“Then don’t,” I tell him. “We’ll figure something out.”
He wipes my tears with his thumb, then kisses each cheek where the tears had been. The gentle feel of his lips against my skin sends a delicious shiver through me. “I want to be the man you deserve.”
“You already are,” I assure him. “Except for one thing.”
His brow furrows. “Don’t ever ask me to bind my magic.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You think I’d really want you to do that? After seeing what it’s done to me? I was trying to make you hate me. I’ve tried so hard. Clearly, every attempt I’ve made has failed.”
His thumb brushes over my lips. “I want you to be the most powerful woman in the world. And with that magic of yours, you very well could be.”
“It doesn’t scare you?” I ask.
“Of course not.” His mouth turns down. “There’s more to my magic. And my sister…”
“I know about your sister,” I admit. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t want to talk about her. There’s other things I’d rather do before your husband notices that you’re missing.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes that makes my heart leap. It’s a rare moment of him letting down his guard.
I am not going to waste that.