Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
GAVIN SMYTH
Every time I doubt myself, I think about what you would tell me if you were here. You have a way with words that makes me feel like I can do anything. It’s almost as if you’ve spent centuries thinking of ways to light my way forward.
And all I can think to say is that I should never have told you to go.
—UNSENT CORRESPONDENCE FROM QUEEN ARYELLA I TO THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA
22nd of Soltum, 402 Years Ago
It had been three weeks.
I wasn’t sleeping. I was barely eating. Getting out of bed was a terrible chore. Most days, so was breathing.
I didn’t want to do any of it without her.
The first day I saw her, she shifted the axis of my world. I revolved around her, and now I’d been cast out of orbit. Floating aimlessly without gravity, without reason, without the sun that burned life into my body.
I missed her. I missed her in ways I didn’t know one person could miss another. It hit me at random times throughout the day like a battle-ax to the gut, had me keeling over, clutching my chest and ready to tear out my own heart so I didn’t have to feel this way anymore.
She was the other half of me—the far better half—and I felt the loss of half my soul and all my heart in every breath I took. It was agony. It was hell.
I wasn’t going to last much longer.
I had no true intention of letting her go. But she needed time, and if I was going to find a way to convince her uncle to let me marry her, then I needed time to come up with an impenetrable plan that he couldn’t reject.
And if he did reject it, I would fucking try again.
Meanwhile, I busied myself at my forge. It was the safest place to take out my frustrations and get so far ahead on orders that I began to panic at the thought of having nothing left to do.
Vic came by a few times to tell me I looked like shit and needed to bathe. Both things were true. I didn’t care.
Tonight, the damp, heavy air of late Soltum cast a grim, lazy pall over the city. Something had felt off all afternoon. I felt even more weary than usual in her absence, worn down from a persistent, nagging ache that kept reminding me that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. With her.
I lifted my hammer, but panicked shouts in the street had me stopping mid-swing. The roaring flames before me paired with the violent rain outdoors prevented me from deciphering the words outside. I stepped back, away from the forge, until I could.
“Queen Christabel has died!”
“The queen has died!”
My hands, one gripping an iron rod, the other holding my hammer, fell limply to my sides. A relentless wave of dread enveloped my heart.
Her mother .
“Ella,” I choked out. All I could think about was her heart, broken and tired, as she cried alone in her room and mourned the only parent she had left.
I should have fucking been there for her. I should never have let her be alone. She needed me now more than ever.
I should be there now.
“Fuck!” I tore off my apron and turned to find her standing in the doorway, soaked to the bone, eyes red from tears, full of fear, and staring at me like I was the only thing in her world.
“Ella?” I breathed, overcome with shock. Was I hallucinating? Had I gone so insane without her that my mind was playing tricks on me to survive?
But I watched the frantic rise and fall of her chest to ensure she was breathing. Short of touching her with my own two hands, it was all I could do to ensure she was real.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, cheeks pale, gaunt, and streaked with tears. “I couldn’t leave my mother up there alone, and Simeon threatened…” Fear widened her eyes. “I’m sorry I left you,” she cried brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”
In the same breath that my hammer hit the floor with a clang, I covered the ground between us and caught her leaping into my arms. She gasped into my shoulder like she’d been holding her breath since the day she tried to end us.
“It’s okay.” I cupped her head as she buried her face in my neck. “I’ve got you,” I whispered, lips pressed into her hair as she shook with quiet sobs. “I promise, my love, I’ve got you.”
We rested in each other’s arms. Being without her felt like suffocating, and I was finally breathing after weeks with no air.
I pulled back and removed her hood, assessing her for damage. She had lost weight. There was no sign of visible injury on her face or neck. No bruises, no signs of a fight or struggle, but her skin was pale from lack of sunlight, and her eyes were red from endless tears I hadn’t been there to dry.
My stomach soured when I looked down to find her hands wrapped in cloth.
“Did he lock you up?” I asked.
Her bottom lip quivered. She blinked out a tear and nodded.
“Fuck,” I breathed, brushing the soaking wet hair from her cheeks and refusing to let my own tears escape. For her, I’d be strong. “How’d you get out?”
She carefully unwound the cloth bandage from her hands.
“I’ve always agreed to take the suppressing potion, knowing it’s necessary to keep everyone protected, but the last couple of days, I’ve dumped it.
The fire doesn’t normally burn my hands when I wield it, but I had to keep my hands close to melt the bars, and the heat got out of control and backfired…
but it worked.” She sniffed and dragged in a shaky breath.
“And then I climbed down and ran to you.”
Bright red palms, swollen and blistered, trembled in the air between us.
The burns were bad. Not deep enough to scar, but having spent my whole life around a forge, I knew how much they must fucking hurt.
I hoped her healing power could remedy this.
Erasing her pain was the only thing that mattered.
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “That’s my girl,” I exhaled shakily, then breathed her in. The scent of her in my lungs to keep the rage at bay.
I didn’t know how or when I would do it, but I would kill Simeon Whitlock.
“I’m so sorry, Ella.” I held her face. “Your mother?—”
“She was the only thing keeping me in that castle. She was in so much pain. She was confused and hadn’t been herself for quite some time.
” Grief washed over her, but she quickly shoved it down.
She was good at that, and I hated that she needed to be.
“We aren’t safe in the city anymore.” She looked up at me, fear and hope warring in her eyes.
“I’m putting you in danger, being here with you?—”
“Stop.” I shook my head. She wasn’t turning back on me now.
She loved me, and there was nothing in any universe that could make me give her up. “I don’t care.”
“You should. You really should.” She rebandaged her palms before lifting them on my face.
Then, even though she was terrified and grieving, she gave me that soul-saving, world-altering smile I would do anything and everything to keep.
“But I love you, Gavin Smyth, and I’ll spend the rest of my life begging you to forgive me for trying to make you believe that I didn’t.
” She kissed the corner of my mouth, then fixed her gaze on mine.
“If the offer still stands, please make me your wife.”
Ceaseless hope sent warmth and light pumping through my veins. I let out a desperate cry of relief and crushed my mouth to hers in a searing kiss. Her tongue brushed against mine, while I inhaled her sweet scent. Strawberries mixed with warm sunshine.
Home.
But we couldn’t stay here. They would be searching for her. I kissed her quickly, then whispered, “I’ll get us a horse.”