Chapter 119
Chapter One Hundred Nineteen
Rohak
“Faylinn!” I screamed again, uncaring for the desperation that contorted my voice.
I needed to find her, hold her, never let her go.
With the Bond opened, I pushed every ounce of fear, of longing, of love down it, blindly following its pulse in my soul as I crawled through the muck and mire in search of my love.
“Rohak!” Her desperate, raspy cry was close, and I looked frantically about.
All I saw were corpses—bodies in various states of death, some with eyes wide open and expressions of incredulity, as if they didn’t expect to enter the ether today, while others were resigned, almost peaceful.
None of them were my Faylinn.
A sucking sound came from my right, and I whirled on my knees to see my beautiful love clambering over a stack of bodies to reach me.
I fell back against my heels, the water seeping through my pants to saturate them completely, but I didn’t care.
With a sob, my hand came to cover my mouth, shoulders shaking with my relief.
Objectively, I knew she had survived—I was alive, after all—but thinking it and seeing it were two completely different things.
“Rohak,” she rasped quietly, her voice thick with emotion and beautiful hazel eyes rimmed in red.
I reached out with dirty hands, grasping her by her thin shoulders to pull her toward me, immediately encasing her in my arms and nestling my face against her throat.
Faylinn scrambled, desperately trying to get closer to me, even though our bodies were pressed as flush as possible, like she wanted to crawl beneath my skin.
We sat like that for minutes, hours, days, breathing in each other’s scents and feeling each other’s heartbeat. They beat as one, thumps slowly de-escalating until they reached a normal cadence.
My hand wound through her curls at the back of her skull, holding tight and pushing her face further into my neck.
I just wanted to feel her breath against my skin, relish in her as I held her warm, supple flesh against my own. My grip tightened as I thought about how she was nearly ripped away from me, and I felt my breath catch in my throat once more.
“Never again,” I rasped. Faylinn tensed as if expecting a reprimand, but I was so far past that. “Never again will we be separated.”
I pulled her head from my neck so I could look into her eyes, so she could see the depth of my sincerity.
“We were always meant to be as one. And from now on, we will be. You do not leave my side, and I do not leave yours. I am so, so sorry that I tried to make you stay in Vespera, Faylinn. You were never meant to stay behind like some precious treasure. You are a fierce warrior, a wicked protector, and you were always made to be at my side, with me.”
Her eyes filled with tears, a few escaping down her cheeks, but she said nothing. Just pressed her forehead against my own as we inhaled each other’s air.
“I love you, Rohak,” she whispered against my lips. I delicately pressed my mouth to hers, not wanting to start worshipping her, for I feared that if I did, I was wont to take her right here in the blood-soaked mud.
“I love you is not enough for the depths of what I feel for you,” I admitted, kissing her chastely once more. She tasted of salt from sweat and tears and the coppery metallic that only blood could produce, but she was still wholly mine.
“Ben and Asha . . .” she started, trailing off when a broken sob came from her chest. My heart broke, chest cracked in two, when I felt the grief, despair, and a healthy dose of guilt pouring down the Bond.
I drowned in it for a moment, relishing in feeling her emotions so clearly and knowing it could have been torn asunder, silenced forever like Ben and Asha’s.
I grieved, too. For the loss of a friend, for the death of a good man and his wife. For the child they left behind, and the free world they’d never get to experience.
I let Faylinn feel it all before I slowly started to pull her out of it.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered against her trembling lips.
She gasped, spit and snot spraying onto my already ruined tunic.
“It is,” she wailed. “It is. They—they s-s-saw me, r-r-run and j-jumped in f-f-front of me. If n-not for m-me they’d be alive.”
I stroked her forehead and cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her grief, even as I firmly shook my head.
“No. Things happen, Faylinn. You didn’t force their hand.
You never pushed them in front of you or asked them to protect you from Solace.
They chose that. They came here together knowing what could happen.
They knew what was at stake if you died and chose to sacrifice themselves for you.
Do not cheapen their deaths or try to steal their actions.
Mourn them, grieve for them, wail and cry, but do not allow yourself to think that they died unwillingly.
When this is all over and we are back home, we will celebrate them.
Raise a glass for them in the mess hall and remember their sacrifice for you, for Elyria, for the child they so desperately love. ”
Faylinn’s shoulders still shook with grief, but her eyes were starting to dry.
“Come. We will have our time to grieve. But our people need us,” I whispered into her hair. “And I need you to help me.”
I rose shakily to my feet, knees and joints popping and muscles protesting the movement, before I gently pulled Faylinn up beside me. Tucking her beneath my arm, I pulled her hard against my side, hand constantly rubbing soothing circles.
When I looked up from my Bonded, I saw what was left of Solace’s and Samyr’s forces gathered together. There weren’t many, maybe a couple hundred, but more than I expected.
More than us that survived, I thought balefully.
The man in front, a commander of some sort, immediately kneeled, pushing his face toward the ground.
“We give ourselves over to whatever punishment you think is deserving.” His sword rasped from his scabbard before he held it out to me with both palms. “We have seen the error in our ways and do not wish harm on our brethren any longer. I offer you my sword so you may take my life, and that of any others you deem as payment.”
I sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face and depositing more filth and grime.
“Already the politics start,” I grumbled down the Bond. Faylinn pushed comfort back at me, knowing we would have to make changes to my position and the power structure in Elyria once this was settled.
I didn’t believe a word that he said about his ‘brethren’ in Elyria, but I was exhausted beyond all measure, both physically and emotionally.
“I think there has been quite enough bloodshed for the next thousand years, don’t you, Commander?
” I asked quietly. His grip faltered, blade nearly dropping.
“Rise and sheath your sword. Take your men and return to Samyr. Find and dispose of your dead as you see fit. But know that we will call soon to negotiate peace, and I expect you to be cooperative, lest there be further consequences.”
Quickly, the bald commander stood and sheathed his sword with a curt nod.
“We thank you for your . . . generosity, King d’Alvey,” he said, flicking his fingers in a motion that sent a few dozen of his men in search of their dead.
With that, the group dispersed. Some climbed over the hills back toward home, and others looked for friends and family who died today. All with wide-eyed looks of shock.
“I don’t trust him,” Faylinn growled down the Bond. I shrugged.
“Me neither,” I responded out loud. “But I meant what I said. We have our own dead to find, funerals and grief to see to. The time for politics will come. For now, I think it’s best we fall into our own people.”
Faylinn squeezed my side, love and pride pouring down the Bond as we slowly picked our way through the dead and debris, looking for the place to start.