CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ilain was entirely numb.
She’d spent all her emotion in the Keep and its antechamber. Now, she had nothing left. Even the tears had been drained from her broken heart.
Throughout the night, she sat up, staring at the wall. Ethenn offered comfort. She’d rejected it. How could she rest in his arms while Auden was . . . ?
Ilain’s eyes were perpetually hazy from her grief.
Yet, she couldn’t cry. She sat on the wooden floor in her chemise, too brokenhearted to do more than peel the dirty dress from her sweat-caked skin.
Next to her, Ethenn sat silently, with enough distance between them not to touch.
He seemed to understand her need for independent mourning.
However, he didn’t abandon her for the bed or leave her in isolation.
Somehow, he knew exactly what she needed. Which almost made the pain worse.
Her body felt hollow, worn down from misery and overuse. Her magic had frayed, the Fire within burning dimmer than ever before. It would return, she knew, but in the meantime, the emptiness left her frame lifeless and limp.
During their perilous battle in the Space Keep, Ilain had used up every ounce of power she possessed.
She’d already been weary, feeling herself weaken in the Keep, yet she knew she still harbored enough energy to save them.
She knew that. She’d known it the whole time.
From the moment Deckard lost himself to Space, she began to conserve her strength, knowing they’d have to rely on her to get them out.
Hours later, in the darkness of the room, Ilain stared at the four rings on her fingers: ruby for Fire, sapphire for Water, diamond for Wind, and emerald for Terrae.
They’d always twinkled with an inner light, a barely perceptible reflection of the magic within.
For thirty years, she’d slowly siphoned reserves of her power into those gemstones.
Each day, she’d granted them a little more.
Today, they’d gone dull, their power fully expended.
Borrowed energy. That’s what her rings were. Free magic, available to be used in the darkest hour, when all hope seemed lost. And they were the only reason their troop was alive, the only reason she’d remained conscious and able to heal Thom’s mortal wounds.
For years, Ilain had been saving the magic, preparing to use it when, eventually, they entered the final battle with Blount.
It was meant for the Alliance’s success.
That’s the only reason she’d waited so long to use it.
She didn’t view it as her magic anymore; it belonged to the Alliance—her sacrifice for the country’s rise to power.
A fresh tear escaped and slipped down Ilain’s cheek. She didn’t bother brushing it away, letting it burn across her skin.
It had been Auden’s forty-fifth birthday. And she’d let him die.
The moment he’d fallen into that black hole, Ilain felt it in her heart.
Her brother was gone. All because she hadn’t acted sooner.
She’d hesitated to use the power in her rings, believing they were strong enough to get through the Keep alive.
She needn’t consume even an ounce of their energy stores; they could all make it free.
She’d been wrong.
Tearing the Space and Wind Relics from Ethenn and Evylin had been an impulse—an internal fury driving her to do what she should have done long before.
In the final moments of battle, she’d summoned all the power of the Relics and all the borrowed energy of her rings, expending them in one profound strike.
Thirty years of power. Gone.
And she still lost Auden.
When the morning came, a soft knock accompanied it.
Ethenn had fallen asleep sitting up, his head lolling toward the side of the bed. Not once had Ilain closed her eyes.
At the knock, Ethenn startled awake. He rose quickly, his steps unsteady. Evylin was on the other side. She brought the news that they were preparing to leave, her voice gentle.
Ilain stood, speaking before Ethenn could. “We’ll be ready shortly,” she told Evylin, her voice tight and scratchy.
Evylin dipped her chin, gaze wary. “If you need longer—”
“I don’t,” Ilain said firmly. She forced a smile across her face, knowing it was terse rather than friendly. “We’ll be down shortly.”
After Evylin departed and Ethenn shut the door, he turned to her, uncertainty written across his features.
“I’m not going to crumble into ash,” she said with a lightness she didn’t feel. “You can stop treating me like it.”
Ethenn studied her for a moment longer. “When you need something from me,” he began, “tell me. Otherwise, I’m going to leave you alone.”
“That’s not very chivalrous of you,” she remarked snidely.
“You’re strong, Ilain,” he said, steady assurance punctuating each word. “You don’t need chivalry. You need support. Now, do you need anything in this moment, or shall I leave you to get ready yourself?”
Standing there in her chemise and undergarments alone, Ilain should have felt embarrassed in front of him. They’d dressed in front of one another, though with their gazes averted, but there was more vulnerability in this moment than any they’d yet experienced.
Tears stung her eyes again, but Ilain took a deep breath. “I feel shaky,” she admitted.
“Do you need something to eat?” he asked practically.
Realizing she hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Ilain nodded. “But I need help dressing first.”
Without a word, Ethenn moved for her clothes.
Isla had taken their clothes from the day before to launder, so he brought her spare dress, a dark moss-green and brown brocade, along with her clean underclothes.
Handing her the frock, he remained at her side, turning his back so she could replace her sweaty chemise with the fresh one and steadying her when needed.
Otherwise, he didn’t touch her or speak.
It was strangely bolstering and irritating.
Ethenn had redressed the night before but only now tucked his shirt in before grabbing his coat and pulling on his boots. “Do you need anything else?” he asked.
Ilain shook her head. When he turned to go, she caught his hand. His dark eyes met hers, his expression placid.
“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to muster the emotion the words required.
Ethenn gave a single nod, then left the room.
A moment later, Isla entered. “I was told not to leave you alone,” her sister-in-law said kindly. Then she began helping Ilain pack their few things.
“Doesn’t Vayden need you?” Ilain asked with dispassionate politeness.
Isla shook her head. “He has Rafferty to keep him distracted.”
Ilain didn’t feel the smile she forced, focusing on her task. With every movement, her eyes caught on her now-dull rings, and her heart squeezed, reminding her that she was Auden’s real killer. She’d let him die.
Too soon, Ilain was packed, and the women left the room.
Emerging from the dark room, with its curtains drawn to cover the solitary window, the rest of the house felt unbearably bright.
The troop waited in the parlor for their arrival, ready to continue their journey.
Dejected, Vayden sat in the wingback chair, staring aimlessly at nothing while a cup of tea cooled on his lap.
On the sofa, Deckard perched beside Thom, who sat with his left leg outstretched.
She would need to heal that to speed his recovery.
The brothers spoke in hushed tones until Ilain appeared, when everyone went silent.
In the dining room, Evylin ate her breakfast while Rafferty flipped a small dagger from hand to hand absentmindedly. Ethenn appeared from the kitchen, a small bowl in his hand. Spotting her, he stepped immediately to Ilain’s side, and Isla went to Vayden.
Ilain accepted the meager breakfast. She scanned the room once more, noting their missing compatriot. “Where’s Breata?” she asked coldly.
“She went to the stable to prepare,” Vayden said.
More likely, it was to avoid Ilain.
Deckard stood, drawing everyone’s attention as he cleared his throat. “We are running short on time,” he said, “but before we go, I’d like to say something.”
Ilain leaned against the stair rail, eating the porridge and nettleberries Ethenn had prepared for her to soothe her trembling limbs and queasy stomach.
Meeting first Vayden, then Ilain’s gaze, Deckard said, “I’d like to offer my sincerest apology. What happened yesterday was due to my failure to control my magic. Should I have been stronger—”
“Auden still would have died,” Ilain interrupted.
They all turned to her with visible shock.
Ilain scraped together another spoonful of the creamy oats.
“The blame doesn’t lie with you any more than it does me,” she finally said, then met Deckard’s gaze.
“I’m the most powerful Mage in two centuries, remember?
Should I have chosen to, I might have taken all three Relics and destroyed every last Shade that came across our path. So why didn’t I, Jonn?”
He stared back at her, speechless as she shoved the bite of porridge into her mouth.
She could see in his haunted gaze and haggard features that, already, he carried this weight too heavily. He genuinely believed that he was to blame for the tragedy. And Ilain wouldn’t have that.
“Because we were too far away,” Ethenn answered for her.
Though he was wrong, Ilain nodded and turned back to her breakfast. “Exactly,” she said. “Should I have used my magic too soon, I would have burned out. We weren’t close enough to the exit. I had the means to save my brother’s life, but I feared exhausting myself . . . until it was too late.”
The room was silent while each person present took in the truth. Ilain could have saved Auden herself. Despite Brea’s abandonment, Ilain had the power. She’d simply been too late to use it.
However, that didn’t absolve Brea’s guilt in her mind. The Warrior still made her choice: Thom over Auden. And Ilain could never forget that.
“I still put us in additional danger,” Deckard said, then looked at each person in the room. “And I’m severely sorry for that.” He faced Ilain, meeting her gaze with submission. “I’d ask that you help me never to make that mistake again.”
Even in the light of morning, a bone-deep numbness swirled through Ilain’s body, and she welcomed it.
Her emotions were fighting to return—anger, bitterness, hurt, and sorrow.
She smothered them, giving Deckard a final nod and refusing to look toward the rest of the room.
She couldn’t bear to see them gathered without Auden.
Her heart squeezed all the tighter at the thought. It was impossible. It was wrong. Her brother had always been there, his quiet presence constant and loyal, good and loving. Now, he was forever gone.
Ilain forced the rest of her meal down, the nettleberries’ sweetness adding an unwelcome flavorous quality to the porridge.
She didn’t bother listening as the others made their final plans.
They were leaving Loclight for Estshire, two days behind schedule.
Departing immediately was essential. If they didn’t leave today, they’d arrive after Blount, and everything they’d gone through would be for nothing.
When their travel plans were complete, Vayden came to Ilain’s side, and Ethenn took her empty bowl to the kitchen, leaving the siblings alone.
Her brother’s sharp blue eyes stared down at her, the barely restrained tears within them saying more than words ever could. He cupped her cheek, and his palm was cold against her clammy skin. “Lainy . . .” he whispered, but nothing else came out.
Ilain gripped his wrist, suddenly feeling like a little girl once again. She clenched her jaw, fighting off the tremor of emotion within. “We’ll be fine,” she said flatly. “We just have to keep going.”
Vayden’s brow furrowed sorrowfully, but Ilain impressed her will upon him with her glare. “Vayden, we must all make sacrifices,” she reminded him, “for the sake of a better future. This was Auden’s.”
“He was our brother.”
The words were gentle, yet they hit Ilain with more force than she thought possible.
Their brother.
Auden.
Ilain closed her eyes against the sudden swell of tears. One slipped past her closed lids, nonetheless, dripping onto her cheek.
Auden was gone. Her confidant, her most trusted companion. The other half of her heart.
Her knees threatening to buckle, Ilain leaned into Vayden and let him embrace her. She knew the others were still present, but she also knew they wouldn’t watch. Even Rafferty would turn away to honor the siblings’ grief. They’d lost too much.
Resting her face on her only remaining brother’s shoulder, Ilain hardened her jaw. Despite her words, this was no sacrifice. Auden hadn’t given his life in the Space Keep. It had been taken from him, all because of one woman’s selfish choice.
No matter what Brea wanted to claim, the Warrior had betrayed Auden.
She’d chosen Thom on a whim of fancy. The soldier had been dead in point of fact if not reality, his wounds beyond recovery.
Had Ilain not been magnanimous enough to care, he would have bled out in the antechamber.
As it was, Ilain’s strength had almost failed her, even then.
If Evylin hadn’t offered her own energy during the healing, Ilain would have passed out, and Thom would have breathed his last.
Brea’s decision came from infatuation rather than logic. It was between Thom’s life and Auden’s. And she’d chosen Thom.
Ilain should have let him die. Then the woman might have seen her error.
But the bitter thought pricked Ilain’s heart, starting a burn of guilt searing through her veins. Thom was her friend, albeit a miserable excuse for one at times. Yet, they’d genuinely come to care for one another. Had the choice been hers, she might have fought to save Thom too.
No. Ilain pulled away from Vayden. She wiped her wet cheeks dry and straightened her back. She never would have chosen anyone over Auden.
But Brea wasn’t the only one to blame for his death. . . .
Finally, readied for travel, the troop left the Deckards’ home. They took back streets in case anyone saw their late departure and alerted the king. Carlile had assured them he’d cover for their delay, but they did their best not to make extra work for the man.
Vayden and Isla broke off to meet Brea at the stable while the rest continued to the barracks. Deckard and Thom went in alone to recover their horses. They mounted up and headed for the main gate.
And Ilain’s heart left a trail of blood through the streets of Loclight as she rode away from the sight of her brother’s demise.