Chapter 14
Roderick Bryson
Yomira was more than happy to fly them to Little Wing, and in fact, decided to invite herself along for the entire journey.
Wyvern business, very hush hush, she’d said. Whatever that meant.
Even though he was high up in the starry sky on the back of such a mighty beast—something that should have put him in a state of awe—his heart and mind were stuck in Balcott.
Was Mabel feeling better? Were the mana stones working?
Oh Divine, he should have insisted they use them all on her.
They’d asked the Baroness about the black fluid, but she hadn’t seen any of the children exhibit such a symptom before.
It was getting worse.
He tried to shift his thoughts away from the children. He’d surely go mad if he dwelled on them. They were already doing everything they could.
His mind was blank for only a moment before his former fiancée snuck in.
She was beautiful—thriving. In all his time engaged to her, he’d never been rewarded with a smile like the one she held for Ellis.
His throat felt constricted by…something. It wasn’t his cravat, but he tugged it loose anyway. It was some tenuous mixture of worry for the children, lingering grief at the loss of Millicent, envy over the life that should have been his.
Heartbreak. The word he was looking for was heartbreak. He could tell himself all day long that their engagement had just been for protective reasons. A formality. Part of his sense of duty. But somewhere along the way, his heart had blurred the lines between love and duty.
The ache in his chest swelled when he took in the three of them—Millicent, Ellis, and their new daughter Emmaline.
All he could think of was how he’d almost barred Millicent from all that happiness.
What if he’d refused to let her join the Centarian-hunting Hounds?
Or refused to end their engagement? Or not come to her aid when she was discovered and imprisoned?
He wanted to tell himself he would’ve never done those things—that he’d instantly chosen the selfless option every time.
But he hadn’t. He’d drowned his sorrows and nearly left Eteross the last night he saw her.
Yomira glided over the mirrored waters of the Cress River, the largest in Valeria.
It almost appeared as a lake when standing on one side.
It even ran through his fief in Petorus—though his memories of it were not fond.
A few weeks after he stopped taking the Rhodias, he began to wander in his sleep and awake on the bank of the Cress River, leaning against the willow tree that gnarled its roots so far toward the water he could see them poking out of the sandy silt.
He’d wake in a cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs, breaths coming fast and shallow.
He’d clutch his chest in a vain effort to steady them, though nothing worked but time.
He was lucky to wake early enough that none of the knights or squires had found him there.
A side effect from adjusting to life without the Rhodias, he’d tell himself.
It would end—but the cycle would repeat, night after night.
The voices that poisoned his mind were familiar friends now. He leaned on them and the truth they burned into his mind.
Your people starved while you dressed in finery.
You drank and made merry while they bit their wrists to feed their children.
They became orphans while you pursued a woman who didn’t want you.
How did it feel, witnessing the happiness you nearly ripped from Millicent?
And you claim to have loved her.
His head grew heavy as the words piled up. He pressed his forehead against Yomira’s neck and tried to focus on the wyvern’s bellows-like breathing, but his mind was splintering. The voices seeped in, growing louder with every second.
Let yourself fall. The glittering waters sang, a siren song of sorts—far different than the whistles in his head. Let the waters catch you. Let them quiet your mind once and for all. Do you not deserve such peace?
Rod? Yomira thought. He peered down at the current.
You deserve the cold, relieving darkness of the depths.
Rod! Rod! Yomira grumbled beneath him, but the voices kept winning.
The expedition needs Anya to succeed. Not you. Think of the children. She will do better without you. Just like Millicent.
Let her go.
His grip on her horns loosened.
Roderick! Roderick! Yomira’s panicked screeches and rushing wind barely chipped away at his stupor.
“Roderick!” Anya’s terrified scream rang in his ears as her sharp claws dug into his shirt, yanking him out of the muck in his mind. “Tell her to stop!”
As his grip on Yomira’s horns became steadfast once again, the wyvern whipped her wings out to slow their descent. His heart hammered in his chest, throbbing and pulsing like an overfed flame. He looked down at the waters, now only a stone’s throw away.
The wyvern heard everything he had and must have dived down to keep him safe in case he listened to the voices. A fall from this height would have only been a wake-up call, not a long sleep six feet under.
I’m all right now, thank you, Yomira. He closed his eyes and grounded himself in her bellowing breaths. In. Out. Powerful lungs. Powerful breaths. In. Out. Please do not tell anyone.
Who would I tell, genius? He could hear weak humor in the wyvern’s voice. He’d truly frightened her.
He turned his head as a sniff came from behind him. Anya was still clinging to him, trembling and crying. Incredibly, Lady Rowan was asleep against Octavio. The knight was wide eyed, and more terrified than he’d ever seen him, even in the face of a horde of goblins.
Anya swiped her cheeks on his shirt to dry her tears. “Never do that again.”
She meant Yomira’s daring dive, of course.
She must have thought he asked her to do it.
But a tiny prick reminded him of the terror he’d felt seeing the state of the Centarian islands.
How could he heap that kind of trauma on Anya, Lady Rowan, Octavio and Yomira?
If they had to witness him act on such thoughts, they would never be the same.
He focused on counting Anya’s every claw through the fabric of his shirt. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He repeated the count with her right hand, focusing on the sensation of her fingers pressing into his skin, pushing and stretching his cotton shirt.
He was alive. He wasn’t alone. He hadn’t fallen.
I would’ve caught you. Yomira rumbled. Her single red eye looked back at him. Someone will always catch you, if you tell them you’re falling.