Chapter 1 #2
And, gods, the pain of his death remained so fresh.
She could still see the way Ehrun’s sanity had slipped away mere heartbeats before the blade sank into her friend’s chest. She could still hear her own screams as Kall turned to reach for her.
She could still feel her nails tearing into Azriel’s arm as her husband hauled her back, away from the dhemon who had spent weeks building her up just for her to fail when she needed it most.
Another squeeze from Revelie, dragging her back to the present, where she whispered, “I am sorry for bringing it up.”
Camilla scoffed and whirled to stand before Ariadne, a kerchief in hand. “Do not ruin my work,” she said and dabbed at her eyes. “Farce or not, you will look stunning on your wedding night. Again.”
Choking back the tightness in her throat with a half-hearted laugh, Ariadne nodded.
By the time they reached the carriage out front, an escort of crimson-clad soldiers surrounding it, she knew one thing for certain: so long as she had her friends by her side, she could endure anything.
Azriel felt…nothing.
The world moved around him, time slogging by in thick waves of fog. Shapes drifted across his vision with nothing quite forming. Voices directed words at him that he couldn’t make out, as though he had cotton stuffed in his ears. Heavy limbs dragged through something damp and scratchy.
His tongue refused to obey as he grappled with syllables that did nothing more than make low groans.
A strange peace had descended on him. One that felt familiar and yet…horrible. One he knew he hated for reasons he could not place. Mere flashes of hot sand and sun blistering his skin had him reaching for something.
No.
Someone.
Deep misery raked its claws through his soul, drawing blood that streaked down his face. Wait…not blood. What warmth leaked from his eyes? Why? What could be making him feel so horrible when all he wanted was to return to that place of pure bliss?
Eyes, blue as the ocean, alight with laughter.
At first, his heart lurched. Warmth flooded his veins. A knot loosened in his gut.
Then those perfect, rosy lips curled in a luscious smile collided with those of another. Silver hair and a sharp, icy glare.
Rage bubbled up, replacing the sorrow and crushing the joy.
Azriel lurched, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. Fingers closed around something and tightened, eliciting a shriek that bounced around in his mind for too long as someone else pried him off with a curse. He bared his fangs in response. How dare they stop him from killing that wretch?
“Sabharni, Vhaltrin.” A voice he knew too well slipped through his mind, caressing his consciousness with tender affection. The words continued in that same, rough language, “You’re safe. She’s safe. She loves you.”
She.
Those eyes returned to the forefront, dazzling in the light.
Azriel could drown in the depths of them, and he would die a happy man, burying himself in her soul so they could never be parted again.
Each beat of her heart would send him racing through the void of eternity, where he could relish the feeling of her forevermore.
Anguish returned. It seared through him, tightening his gut so horribly that he heaved at the pressure of it. Nothing escaped him, for there was nothing for him to eject from his stomach. He was empty. Hollow and alone.
“Rholki.” That voice scratched at a place in Azriel’s mind that felt familiar. Safe.
Images of a beach at sunrise were thrust into his thoughts unbidden, each one delivered with a soft rake of claws across his consciousness.
Through the memories that could not be his own, Azriel flew beyond the shore, racing after the opalescent figure of a small, scaled beast. Below stood a dhemon with an ax in the sand, and behind him, two other figures waited for their moment to strike.
I’m sorry, Rholki.
The words from that morning returned along with the heart-stopping sound of her voice in his mind. Then the taste of strange blood.
Then…nothingness.
Azriel pushed away from the wet, scratchy ground, his body heavy and slow as his core strained to bring him to a seated position where he could make out the silhouettes of people moving to and fro.
They spoke amongst themselves, hardly pausing to pay him heed.
Swallowing hard, his throat bobbed against something there, and he lifted a hand through the mental fogginess to wrap his fingers around warm metal.
In an instant, he recalled the sand. The sun. The screams.
Her decapitated head falling apart in his hands no matter how hard he tried to hold the pieces together. Too-soft skin peeled away from sinew and bone. Dark hair tangled through his fingers. And that voice. That horrible voice saying those words as she forced him to look at those empty blue eyes.
This is your doing. This is your fault. This is what you deserve.
All at once, people surrounded him. Yanking on the collar, a scream split through the air. Who was screaming? Why?
His throat burned, and he inhaled deep, letting the air go in a wail that rocked his body, and someone nearby laughed. A deep, cruel jeering that made his blood curdle. He knew that laugh but could not place the name.
“Rholki!” The frantic word accompanied a pair of wide, marbled eyes and brown hair. “You’re hurting yourself. Please, Azriel, you have to stop!”
Pain erupted from his neck, accompanied by a trickle of something warm. Someone grabbed his hands, prying his fingers free of the metal there.
“Hold him still.” Another, more elegant voice. Soft in tone, yet firm with the commands.
Large arms wrapped around his body, and Azriel thrashed, spitting curses at them all. A hand caught his jaw. Forced it open.
Blood. It tasted wrong.
Then…nothing.