CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
VESPER
Vesper stood in Destonne’s bedroom doorway as the lingering visions of battle swam in his head: the decimated castle, charred creatures, the Council, Thellonius, and Kahlia’s disappearance, but mostly Arborius’s blood-red eyes as he studied Vesper, like a familiar painting glimpsed in a new light.
While Brennen’s agonized howls and Fionn’s quiet sobs had made Vesper’s chest ache, it was Emmery screaming, sobbing, and convulsing as she clung to Destonne that haunted him.
She’d wrapped herself around his corpse like armour and covered them in a shelter of golden flame.
And she’d wept until he was sure she’d die of heartbreak.
Though the pactum disappeared and Vesper’s skin wiped clean, he kept his word.
Regardless of the bargain, he would always take care of Emmery.
After Thorrin popped his shoulder back in and Kyrith found her dagger to remove their restraints, he’d spent nearly an hour coaxing Emmery to let go of Destonne.
When she finally did, she collapsed into Vesper’s arms.
After, they’d all parted ways. He had said a breathless goodbye to Kyrith and fought every instinct to stay by her side. I’ll see you soon, he’d said, but he could already feel her pulling away. As she turned and left, she took a chunk of him with her.
Arborius had escorted the riders back to the remains of Rensburrow and the others to Asaella.
The entire flight to Blackdawn Castle on Kaida’s back, Emmery had clung to Vesper’s filthy tunic and sobbed into his neck, hysterically mumbling Destonne’s name.
When they had arrived, she’d begged for Destonne’s body to be brought to his room.
And now, that’s where they lay.
On his bed.
An entire day later.
Vesper had left her under Brennen’s watch while the healers patched him up, fixed his nose, and gave him pain management for his shoulder and other injuries. The strange tonic they’d had him guzzle made him loopy for hours.
When he could walk straight again, he’d gone to Cal and Briar’s rooms. They’d both been placed in an induced sleep, and though the healers delivered the news as gently as they could, the reality was that the two might not survive their injuries.
He couldn't bear to even consider their loss, especially after Nef’s had left a worm-eaten hole in his heart.
But he didn’t have time to mourn her. Emmery needed him.
As he leaned against the doorframe, he surveyed the King’s strange bedroom.
After all the years he’d served him, he’d never seen it.
The warmth, the colour, the gold accents, and the books piled under the bed were too mundane.
Unexpected. But he’d certainly never expected Destonne and Emmery to fall for each other either.
Aera lay wedged between Emmery and Destonne, her tiny face rested on his throat.
She didn’t even growl as Vesper approached.
Her eyes merely blinked with sorrow. At Destonne’s other side, Brennen lay asleep, undoubtedly wrestling with his own grief and demons.
An untouched tray of food Fionn had left still sat on the bedside table.
Emmery just stared at her left hand on Destonne’s chest. A fucked up mix of blood soaked her armour, face, and every bit of her, but she refused to bathe.
Refused to wash away the last remnants of him.
At least she’d stopped crying. Because the broken stuttering sobs—
It was a sound Vesper couldn’t bear.
Now though, she lay eerily silent, like she’d lost the capacity to express her sorrow. He knew sadness, but not like this. He’d never loved anyone this way. He could see it in her eyes.
Only when Vesper reached for the window to barricade the chilled night breeze, did she finally croak, “Don’t.” Her voice shook. “He doesn’t—Dez doesn’t like closed in spaces. Leave it open. He would want it open.”
She may as well have punched him in the gut. Vesper’s hands fell to his sides, and he stood at the window for a tense moment before he strolled to her. What could he possibly say to console her?
“I’m sorry. I wish I could fix this,” he whispered. He perched himself on the edge of the bed beside her. His heart ached for her. “But, Emmery, it’s been a whole day. They need to—” Move his body. He didn’t want to say it.
She held up a limp hand to stop him. “I know. I know, I need to, but—” A whimper crawled up her throat. “I’m not ready.”
Vesper rested his hand on her knee and circled his thumb in a hopefully soothing touch. They sat in silence.
“I think,” she whispered, “when our bonds broke … half of me went with it. Went with him.” Her eyes flicked over Destonne’s face. “I think I died with him. And it … hurts. It hurts so bad.”
When his and Emmery’s incomplete marriage bond broke, it had ripped him apart and never really healed. But they’d only shared a strong friendship. He couldn’t imagine this pain. This loss.
Such sadness filled her wide golden eyes, and her bottom lip trembled as she whispered, “I can’t do this.”
Her words tightened his chest, because he’d said the same when he’d lost Izzy. As twins, they’d faced life at each other’s sides and tackled every milestone as a pair. Now that he’d heard her voice, hope swelled inside him that he could save her from where she remained trapped.
But Destonne was gone. And there was no bringing him back.
She squeezed her eyes closed and one last tear slipped free.
“You are so strong,” he said. He took her cold clammy hand. “You’re one of the strongest women I know. You can get through this. I know you can. If anyone can, it’s you, Emmery.”
She only shook her head.
He studied her hand in his. In the dungeon, he hadn’t gotten a good look, but an iridescent scar threaded up the sides of her hand, and around her wrist. The bond appeared handwritten. And its existence was impossible, but it remained on Destonne’s too.
Emmery pulled him from his thoughts as she asked, “Can I have until morning? I need more time, but—at dawn. When dawn comes we can—” Her voice cracked and her throat worked with a swallow.
“I’ll tell the others,” he said softly. He kissed the back of her hand before he released it. “Do you need anything? Food? Water? Perhaps a lewd joke? I could try to juggle something.”
When she didn’t at least acknowledge the humour, he sighed.
He needed to rest and could hardly bear to leave her like this, but more so he needed to see the state of Ellynne and check on Marlys.
With the Council’s disappearance, so many things remained up in the air.
“I have to leave, for a little while. But I’ll be back before dawn. Alright?”
Another tear rolled off her nose and fell onto Destonne’s blood-crusted shirt, but she nodded.
Between the rot, the Council, and Zyphira’s death, something sinister loomed ahead. He could feel it in his bones. But he wouldn’t let Kahlia and Thellonius get away with this. Not while he was still breathing.
Vesper tore himself from Emmery but froze in the doorway when she curled around Destonne and sobbed once again.
She needed time. Time healed all wounds. But if that was true, it had been a century, and Vesper was still waiting for his own to mend.