Chapter 63
Emmerick
The Egress travel felt a century long, not a blink.
Caught between the urge to go to the front lines with my guards and to honor my commitment to rule, I felt a pit grow in my stomach as Elsedora squeezed my hand and pulled me across the grounds toward Luz Palace’s entry.
“How did it all go to shit so quickly?” I asked.
She gripped my hand tighter. “We have all three relics. There’s hope yet.”
When we burst through the door, boisterous voices greeted us.
“Tell Constable Arkwright to prepare the flyers and send them West. Send word to my advisors. Hurry,” Sybilla commanded her guards, and the clank of metal on the marble floor dissipated down the hall.
They were assembling, having gotten word from us in Helos, and palpable tension haunted the room as the shouting of orders began outside.
“What’s happened, Lark?” Krait growled out. He held his distraught daughter’s shoulders as they quaked.
“He’s gone. The sword. The carcanet. They’re all gone!” Lark’s fingers tangled through her dark curls as she broke from him to pace the entryway. They stood before the memorial statues. I couldn’t help but glance at Elsedora, whose face paled at the sight.
The door slammed behind me, and the Princess’ focus darted to us.
“Who’s gone, Lark?” El asked.
I glanced around, looking for Dritan—No.
She had to be mistaken.
Caym sat locked away in the mirror.
Aquas had warned us; we’d been fools to think time had ever been on our side.
“Dritan... Caym has him.”
Darkness crept into my vision, and my blood ran cold.
The evidence mounted against my denial, making it impossible to preserve my ignorance—I’d failed him.
“When?” I demanded.
Lark pivoted toward me. “Just now. I was only away for a few minutes. When I returned to my bedchamber, he was gone,” she sobbed.
“Start at the beginning and breathe, Lark. What happened?” Elsedora soothed as she crossed the room to pat her niece on the back.
Lark rattled out what had unfolded in her quarters—the blood on the ground, the dreadful message, the imposing countenance in the pane. All of it spelled disaster.
Her voice rasped. “He told me your old sword felt wrong. I didn’t listen. Now, he and it are gone. He couldn’t see the deathmark on it. What if—”
Sybilla’s hand wrapped around the front of her own neck. I had not seen her look so frightened since we’d talked in a dungeon cell about cursing me to sleep.
Death had left a vulnerability on that damned blade. His mark must have tainted what should have brought about his demise, and we’d all failed to see it.
“The sword guided me once to Caym when I was in need. If it still has that power, what if it led him right to the Death Origin?” Sybilla warned, joining Elsedora at Lark’s side to settle her.
I stood rigid, watching them. We could not delay action. Though, I felt spun around trying to piece together a correct course.
My son lay vulnerable in the hands of my greatest nightmare.
“Where is the mirror hidden?” I asked.
“The volcanic shores,” Lark blurted. She looked ready to Shadow herself away when Krait caught her arm.
“Not alone,” he demanded.
Lark shook her father off and crossed her arms. “He is in trouble!”
“Yes... and this is likely a trap,” Krait gritted out. “I’ll go with you.”
“Absolutely not,” Elsedora cut in. I realized then that not all the stubborn tendencies Lark exhibited came from her mother. “You’re practically mortal, Krait—I’ll go with her.”
“No,” I barked. “If you must take someone, then it will be me. Me alone.”
Elsedora balked. An expression of hurt etched across her beautiful features. The room grew silent.
Caym’s threats of what he would do to El plagued my mind. Visions of her turning to dust made my throat constrict. If keeping her out of his reach meant hurting her, I’d betray every promise I’d made her.
“Why?” Elsedora whispered.
If anyone should help Dritan, it should be me.
But more selfishly, I would never let Caym extinguish the light that’d brought me out of so much fucking darkness. He wouldn’t touch a pretty red hair on her head if I could prevent it.
“Because I owe it to my son. And I owe it to a young girl who once tore me from Caym’s grasp when death grew near. I have a favor to return the Princess.”
Elsedora lurched forward as though someone had struck her in the stomach. Her watery gaze settled on Lark. Else refused to look at me, shaking her head.
I heaved a sigh, fighting every impulse to cave and stay with her. So much for never facing another hard day alone. I hoped if I survived this, she could forgive me.
“Larkspur,” Sybilla pleaded. But Lark’s Shadows ebbed around her, pushing away her family. The dark vines wrangled Sybilla and Krait back toward the dais of the memorial statues.
“This is settled. You cannot stop us. You know it,” Lark said, her tone threatening. Lark would use her Reverist ability of compulsion against anyone in this room. Anyone who stood between her and her husband. It was noble—foolish too. The Princess’ hands shook, and her foot tapped the marble.
My gaze met Krait’s. While a surly asshole, he cared about Elsedora and would try to keep her safe. She wouldn’t be convinced to avoid that battlefield.
“It should have been me.” When El had admitted that she harbored guilt from that day in the amphitheater, I’d known someday she’d confront it. Now, I feared what she might risk in the name of vengeance.
“How quickly can you get Warhorses to the west border?” I asked.
The brooding Sahlmsaran King’s frown deepened. “Not quickly enough,” he answered. “There are a hundred or so riders on patrol of the Plateau—I’ll send them.”
“It will not stop him!” Lark shouted. “We must cut Caym off at the knees. He has Dritan—he wants me. And if he knew our power was bound, then Dritan would be dead already.”
Sources save us.
Lark grabbed my sleeve, her eyes wide and frantic. “There is no more time to wait. We must go now. You have thirty seconds to say farewell,” the Princess concluded.
She slipped an heirloom blade into the holster on her hip and stepped toward the doorway. The Princess did not look back, leaving the rest of us to fumble for quick farewells. Sybilla and Krait raced after their daughter.
It felt torturous to be torn from Elsedora’s side. We’d gotten so few moments of joy. Hating every fleeting second that passed, I approached my Wind-wielding wildflower, who withered in defeat.
After slipping a stray hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear, I dug my hand into the strands at her nape and forced her gaze to meet mine.
“I should go with you,” El whispered, her lip trembling.
One moment of softness before so much impending war. I’d fight for more of them.
I sighed and leaned over to press my forehead against hers. “Protect the north’s border. Protect Lamoreaux. That’s an order from a King to his advisor.”
Her arms wrapped around my neck before she tiptoed to kiss me. Despite the surrounding turmoil, I reveled in her warmth and the smell of sweet blossoms.
“Keep my niece safe. That’s an order, too. From the woman whose mind you will never leave.”
“Make it out,” I whispered between our lips. “Alive.”
She swallowed hard. “Emmerick. I lo—”
I quickly covered her mouth and shook my head with a weak smile. I scolded her, “No, no. Don’t say that now. It sounds far too much like goodbye.”
She huffed a sad, watery laugh behind my palm before kissing it. I replaced my hand with my lips, roughly imparting the importance of her staying safe into the vigor of that kiss.
She met my calling—ungentle, and passionate. As though answering, This better not be the last.
When I released her and stepped away, I walked with haste. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done to not turn back and catch another glimpse of her.
Instead of the three words I’d all but begged her to say, she called out, “You come home to me, puppy. There are more pages in this story, and I’d rather like to see what comes next.”
That sounded better than I love you.
I smiled. Those unwritten pages gave me a reason to succeed; whatever awaited here would be worth facing every one of my greatest fears.
If I lived to see another day, then I’d forever take tender care of the piece of her beautiful heart she’d gifted me.