Chapter 20 #2
“I don’t care. My friend needs me.” He is gone before I can say anything. His wings are larger now, covering his body as he rushes after his friend.
And what am I to do? I can sit here or follow, but staying doesn’t feel right. I doubt I have the same confident presence as Emyr, and I am certainly not as strong as Tibalt, but I race after them with my wings carrying me rather than my feet, hovering inches above the ground.
The driver is hunched over. Black sludge pours from his eyes. He lifts his head. He smiles a dreadful smile, and the dark poison falls from his mouth onto the dirt.
Soiling everything. Death. Decay. Hatred.
I recoil.
“It’s worsening,” Tibalt says. “Before, it was only common fae, and now…”
A high fae has been corrupted for the first time.
Sorrow. Thirst. Revenge.
The feelings ravage the poor man, but he’s still here—his fear, beneath the corruption, is still so present. So alive, and so close to human.
Tibalt draws his sword, but the cursed driver lunges at Emyr before he can act. My body acts of its own accord. I step between them, my hand held out to press against the man’s chest. The black sludge flows onto my arm, soiling the dress Helena made me. I focus on the feeling.
Under the revenge, it is…
It’s only heartbreak, isn’t it?
My pulse races. I take that feeling between my fingertips and break it.
Emyr falls onto his back. Tibalt falters, something a warrior should never do.
My next action feels natural to me, an instinct to pluck the heartbreak from the man.
A smoky spirit ascends from the driver’s head, floating into the sky.
It may leave us. I may have done something after all, as Emyr hoped I could.
But the energy changes.
It sharpens. It drives toward me, wildly searching for a new host.
I cry out, but I am ready to embrace my fate. Better this than bring ruin to the land.
The driver jumps in front of me, accepting the curse again. He looks at me with eyes of sorrow, as the sludge fills his poor soul, heavier this time.
I clutch my chest.
Emyr places a tentative hand on my shoulder.
My attention is on Tibalt’s shining eyes as he runs a sword through the poor driver’s chest.
The driver collapses backward, smiling. “Thank you. I can’t… can’t live knowing that pain…”
His breathing slows. Sludge and blood pool on the ground. The curse doesn’t arise from him again; it doesn’t come toward me. Though there is sorrow in the air, there is peace.
That does nothing to stop the tears from rolling down my face. “What is his name?”
“What?” Tibalt asks, shaking his head.
“His name. I must know the name of the man who saved me.”
“Lief,” Tibalt says. “And Lief was a good man.”
A single tear spills over my rounded cheek.
“Ophelia?” Emyr’s voice holds urgency. He kneels before me, his hands resting on my face. “You saved me. Do you realize what you have done?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You did this. I—I learned from the books you gave me.”
“No. This was you. You removed the corruption from a high fae.” His eyes widen in awe and despair. “You may be able to save Spark.”
Emyr is wrong. I can’t hear these compliments, and I don’t deserve them. There must be more I can do—more to save this land and the fae—but I don’t dare.
Lief is dead, and Spark can’t face the same fate.
My chin trembles, and my knees press into the ground. “Yet he still died. I did nothing.”
“No. Don’t speak about yourself that way. You saved me—you manipulated the curse. How? We’ve tried everything. Everything. How did you…?”
My heart beats in my ears. “I don’t know. Forgive me.”
Emyr remains by my side, his hands still on me. His fingers press into my shoulders, and it brings back a memory of the night before, when I stared at his lips and hoped to have a taste…
He didn’t give me one. It was foolish, even terrible, to want it.
Now, it doesn’t feel so terrible. We lived, and I performed magic no one has ever seen. We’re closer to breaking the curse than before. It’s all wrong, still so horribly wrong, and yet… perhaps there’s still joy to be found.
“You saved my life,” he says once more.
His fingers brush against my face, pushing back a strand of my hair—and perhaps a splattering of blood and sludge. I lean into the touch. His lids flutter. Neither of us has words to spare, and if Tibalt is watching, I forget that I ought to care.
Emyr’s lips brush against mine most softly. Perhaps it’s gratitude, or that he has carried a longing that mirrors mine. I don’t care about the reason for the proximity, as long as I can have it. Heat comes, the rush of the battle arriving at once.
My lips press to his firmly, to let him know he is my choice—even if I am not his.
He doesn’t believe in true love, but with him, I fear I do. I wish to.
Emyr’s hand moves to the back of my head, holding me in place as his lips part to devour me. But he’s gone too soon, before I can give my soul to him, puffing out ragged breaths as he pulls away from me.
“I must… I don’t know…” He floats to his feet.
I follow him up, pressing the palms of my hands against my warm, blood-splattered cheeks. “We should go.”
“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t be around you.”
“Emyr. You don’t mean that.”
“I must go.” He floats higher and higher, his wings carrying him into the darkened sky, to places I can’t follow. “Don’t wait for me. Make way to the palace with haste.”
“We’ll go nowhere without you, foolish man,” Tibalt booms.
“Leave me!”
Gods. It was all a mistake. We shouldn’t have kissed. We shouldn’t have touched.
Why do my hands feel so empty without him?
Tibalt and I are two blood-splattered soldiers returning home with more than just victory, but it does not feel like a success at all.
At least the drive will be a short one.
“I’m worried for him.” The soft admission tumbles from my mouth.
“You don’t have to be.” Tibalt sighs—for perhaps the thousandth time. “This is not the first time he’s escaped into the skies.”
“If you say so...” I look out the window, where darkened trees and branches pass us.
“You only need to give him time.” Tibalt’s voice grows softer than I’ve known it to be. “I’m not sure what has transpired between the two of you—”
“Nothing. You saw it, and that was all there was to see.”
“An embrace in the heat of battle.” He nods. “I know it well. I’ve kissed many friends and foes in such a fashion.”
Has he? I can’t imagine that, but it makes sense for Tibalt. He may have passion hiding beneath his snark and duty.
I shake my head. “That was all it was. Yes. You are correct.”
He clears his throat. “We’ll arrive at the palace shortly. Probably best that we both have a bath, but…”
I wait for him to say anything, too exhausted to fill the pause.
“How?” he asks. “I must know how you manipulated the curse. We have other Moon Fae around the kingdom, and none could do… that.”
“I am unsure…” I think back to the prophecy—and to the halfling from the prophecy.
I’ve spent my life telling myself I can’t be that halfling, but perhaps I am, or maybe I am something different.
What if I can stop the other halfling—if there is another halfling at all?
“I’m still quite new to using my gifts.”
“That only means that with a bit of practice, you could do even greater things.” He shakes his head. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure why Emyr brought you on the trip, but… I see it now.”
My lips tug up at the corners. “Do you?”
“I do. You’re a beast on the battlefield.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “After tonight, I don’t think I am meant for battle.”
“Perhaps not, but that only makes it more impressive. You succeeded in something you are not meant for—and you’re certainly not built for it.”
My brows creep into my hairline. “Should I be offended?”
“Yes.” He rolls his eyes. “You are soft, Miss, and I mean that as an insult.”
After a long ride of disappointment and fear, it feels good to laugh, just for a moment, however halfhearted it is. “I’ve not heard that before.”
“It truly isn’t a bad thing.” He smirks. “Emyr seems to enjoy it.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s quite enough.”
But it does little to stop him from joking and teasing for the rest of the ride. Only once we return do I realize that his jests are a gift for me—a distraction after what may be the most petrifying day of my life.