Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
GAVIN SMYTH
I wish there was some way to know that you’re okay. Something feels… wrong.
—UNSENT CORRESPONDENCE FROM QUEEN ARYELLA I TO THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA
2nd of Effusia, 402 Years Ago, One Hour Later
During my hunt, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the places I wanted to take her, many of which I hadn’t yet been.
Once we were free, the options were endless.
I’d heard of a seaside haven on the western side of the continent called Peradine where lovers spent their days in the water beneath the sun and nights entwined in each other’s arms. Much like we were doing now at night, only warmer.
I would ensure we were somewhere secluded, where no one else could see her fall apart when she came or hear her scream my name. Or I would just kill anyone that saw.
She was for me and me alone. I still couldn’t believe I was the one privileged enough to love her for the rest of my life.
When I lowered the firewood from one arm and opened our door, I laughed, because the first thing I smelled was rich green tea.
“So, you did get out of bed, then?” I kicked off my boots and dropped a large, dead hare on the table to prepare. “I know you prefer I do this outside, but you’ll need to learn…”
My words trailed off as I glanced around and found our home empty.
“Ella?” I called, panic threatening to take me over.
But I got ahold of myself, chuckled and shook my head, immediately denying where my mind went.
I moved to the small bathroom. The door was closed.
She had to be taking a bath. I wished she’d waited for me to warm the water and fill the tub for her.
She always insisted she could do it herself, and she could.
That wasn’t the point. I loved doing things for her.
“Ella?” I knocked on the door three times, frowning at her lack of response. “Do you want me to come in?” If she wanted privacy, she knew she could tell me. I was aware that I could be a little overbearing.
When I pushed open the bathroom door, Shera, Aryella’s little gray cat, sprinted straight out and beelined for the front door. She scratched frantically at the wood and mewled.
“Why were you locked in there, girl?” Aryella always gave that cat the run of the place.
A high-pitched whistling sound drew my eyes toward the stove. The water for Ella’s tea was boiling over.
“Shit!” I grabbed the teakettle and tossed it in the washbasin to the left. Maybe she went for a walk? Though she knew not to venture outside without me, just in case.
I cursed under my breath and moved for the door, but something in my periphery stopped me. A small, folded note on the same table where she and I had eaten, laughed, and drank the previous night before falling into bed together.
Next to the note was her wedding ring.
“Aryella?” I croaked, swallowing down bile. “Ella?”
She wasn’t inside the house. I don’t know why I kept saying her name, but I did.
“Ella? Please answer me!”
My hands shook so violently, I could barely make out the words on the note, even in her perfect handwriting. It took me five tries before what I read made any sense.
It was Simeon. Do not follow me.
“No!” I shouted, the air kicked clean out of my lungs.
I swiped her ring off the table and burst through the door onto the beach.
“No, no, no, no! Ella!” I searched for foot- or hoofprints in every direction, but the sand was clear aside from my own tracks.
It looked like she’d never even been here.
Like I had imagined us.
Do not follow me.
“No!” I slammed my fist into the side of my head, trying to erase the words from my vision. “No, no, no!” It didn’t hurt enough. I needed it to hurt more than the splitting ache in my chest. I needed to clear the sharp fucking ringing in my head. I couldn’t decide which direction to go first.
Do not follow me.
“Fuck!” I roared, gripping my hair, nearly ripping it out of my own skin. I spun in every direction, desperate for a single sign. A horse in the distance. A small body. An army, even, I’d be happy to see. I’d run straight into a horde of weaponed soldiers if it meant having her in my arms again.
It was no use. She was nowhere. If he had her in his grasp, I was helpless against him. He had magic. I had a blacksmith’s hammer and a few coins.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should have protected you. I didn’t protect you.”
I should never have left her alone. Not for a single second.
Do not follow me.
I squeezed my burning eyes shut and wondered if I had imagined it all. Was I deranged like my father? Had she ever touched me, kissed me, held me, loved me?
Had she ever really chosen me, or had it all been a dream?
Do not follow me.
“Gods,” I wept, falling to my knees in the sand. “Please don’t take her from me.”
Those four words were burned in my brain, though written in her handwriting, weren’t hers . I knew she didn’t mean them. This wasn’t her choice, and if it was, she had a damn good reason.
I knew my girl. My wife. This wasn’t right. Nothing about this was right .
Gavin , she’d told me. I love you . Her last words to me were louder than a note. And they had been real.
I violently shook my head. My chest heaved.
Tears streamed off my cheeks and splashed onto my shaking hands and knees.
I refused to accept this reality and released an ear-splitting roar from the depths of my soul.
Darkness danced in my vision. I wanted to set it free, use it to find her and destroy everyone in my path.
Instead, it ate me alive inside until hatred unlike anything I had ever known burrowed itself into my heart.
“Do not follow me,” I repeated, the words vile and wrong on my tongue. Rage brought me to my feet. My heart—that only beat for her—raced in my ears. “Fuck that,” I grunted, sprinting north, toward the castle. I would start there, and I wouldn’t stop until I found her.
“I will follow you,” I hissed through tears, tightening my fist around her ring as I ran. “And I will find you.”