Chapter 47 #2
“How do you know if he can be revived?” I asked, moving closer. As much as I wished otherwise, he appeared dead to me.
“My father’s skin isn’t as cold as it should be.” He swallowed. “But I may be too hopeful. The real sign will be if Rynn can heal any of his injuries. Her powers won’t work on someone who is truly dead, but they will if my father shut down his body before he died.”
My young cousin nodded. “I’ll do it. Even if it’s only a small chance, it’s worth a try.”
She moved to the other side of Jacthor and put a hand on his chest over a wound that must have come dangerously close to his heart. My little cousin would turn thirteen in about a week. I marveled again at how calm and collected she was for her age.
Rynn closed her eyes and concentrated. Her hands trembled as she connected with the body before her, and at first, nothing happened.
Tension filled the room. Then, she gasped, and the wound closest to Jacthor’s heart began to close.
She managed to repair the complicated injury and partially heal a few more grievous wounds before her power reserves ran too low.
Someone called for another healer to handle the rest.
An hour later, with more wounds treated, the Frostdar’s blue-gray skin took on a deeper color. He gasped his first breath. Hadrien and Zelthor lunged to hug him from either side, relief on their faces and tears running down their cheeks.
They’d lost their mother, but at least they’d gotten their father back. Had the princess known her husband could do this? I had to believe he wouldn’t have hidden such an ability from his wife, so maybe she had believed at least one of them had a chance of surviving and protecting their children.
Jacthor clutched his son and daughter closely, love for them shining in his eyes. I couldn’t remember my father ever looking at me like that, though I knew he cared. It just wasn’t on such a deep level. Compared to his brother, Lord Morgunn, it had been considerable, though.
For a moment, the rest of us stood in silence as the small family reunited, but then his expression turned panicked, and he ran his gaze around the room. “Lillian!”
I flinched at his bellow and the desperation in his voice. He scrambled off the table and past his sobbing daughter, crashing to his knees on the floor, before his gaze fell upon his wife’s body. “Nooooo!”
The large man tried three times to get to his feet despite the injuries that hadn’t healed in his legs yet, before he finally crawled his way over to the table and clutched it with white-knuckled strength.
Letting out a painful groan, he pulled himself up and collapsed over Lillian’s still form, trembling with agony and unabashed tears.
“No, my love. You can’t be gone,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Never in my life had I seen a hardened warrior break down as if his soul had been torn from his body.
Jacthor had loved her. Madly. Deeply. Passionately.
He’d held nothing back and given her his whole heart.
She had been his world despite their differences.
They’d moved past them and made something so incredibly beautiful and real.
I knew it was possible, but I hadn’t seen it.
Before my eyes, I witnessed what true love really looked like.
I also saw the pain. With his wife’s death, he lost a part of himself he’d never get back.
He stared up at the ceiling, beseechingly. “Please, gods—any of you—bring her back. Bring her back!” Jacthor smoothed Lillian’s brown hair from her face and kissed her forehead tenderly. “I will trade myself for her or anything you want. Just don’t make me live in this world without her.”
As we watched, he fell apart more. His grief was raw and visceral, filling the otherwise silent room so heavily it was hard to draw a breath.
Tears tracked down my cheeks. How could I envy someone and be incredibly heartbroken for them at the same time?
He’d had the most extraordinary gift before it was ripped away from him.
“Aella,” whispered a familiar voice close to my ear, making me tremble. “Let’s get Hadrien and Zelthor out of here, so their father can have some time alone. They don’t need to see this—none of us do.”
The others were already leaving the room. I turned toward Darrow, relieved he was finally awake. His face was pale, but it appeared he’d showered and changed his clothes.
“Okay,” I said, barely able to speak the word.
I noticed he didn’t touch me. Before his new proclamation, he’d always try to hold me when I was upset.
Not anymore. Even with tears continuing to run down my face, he didn’t break his vow.
There was sympathy in his gaze, though, and I felt his sorrow.
We just couldn’t comfort each other because that would mean one of us giving in to our convictions.
It wouldn’t be me—couldn’t—not when I’d just witnessed what a broken heart looked like up close.
Drawing a deep breath, I gently gathered the kids, and we left the room.
I sensed my husband behind me, almost close enough to feel his heat, but not quite.
The hyper-awareness I had of him drove me crazy.
Also, the longer I went without his touch, the more I craved it.
Darrow had closed his emotions to me again, so I had no idea what he felt now.
Zelthor and Hadrien quietly cried as I led them back to their rooms. Rynn had left after healing Jacthor to refresh herself, but she stepped out of her room right before we reached her friend’s chamber door. She gave me a nod and said she’d take over.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I looked at Zelthor. “Would you like some company?
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll give my father a little time and then go back down to check on him.”
“Okay,” I said, though I hated to leave him.
He might be young, but he was fully grown and could make his own decisions. I had to admire how much strength he’d shown after more than a month of brutal captivity. He had a long way to go before he’d fully recover physically, but his mind was sound. That was a testament to his parents.
I headed for my chambers with Darrow following close behind. We were silent as we climbed the stairs to the next floor and headed toward the end of the corridor. His steps grew closer behind me, heightening my awareness of him.
“Aella,” he said, calm and collected.
My emotions felt like a storm about to ravage the planet.
I spun around. “What?”
His piercing gray eyes bored into me. “Are you okay?”
“No.” It was pointless to lie. “I’m not.”
“What can I do?” he asked. It was such a simple yet loaded question.
We’d nearly reached our chamber door and a place with privacy. I wanted numbness, burning passion, my memory erased. Dear nameless ones, all I knew was that I wanted the vision of Jacthor crying over his wife’s body out of my head.
“Fuck me right now, so hard I forget my name,” I replied bluntly.
The bulge that suddenly appeared in his pants told me my demand struck him. He clenched his fists and looked away, drawing in deep breaths. For a man who usually lacked patience, he was showing remarkable restraint with me.
Darrow finally met my gaze again, running a hand through his loose hair. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You saw what happened in there,” I said, taking a step closer to him. “Make an exception.”
He took a step back. “No. The next time I touch you, it will be softly with as much tenderness as I can manage. I will kiss and lick every part of you, Aella, like you’re the most decadent dessert, and I can’t get enough.
I will worship you as if you’re one of the nameless gods, but even greater and more precious than any of them.
However long it takes for you to grant me that right, I’ll wait. ”
“That vow might get painful for you,” I said, crossing my arms. It was a defense because Darrow had struck a nerve in me this time. I’d imagined everything he’d described and wanted it so badly.
He gave me a rueful look. “If I have to let my balls explode to prove how much I want all of you, so be it.”
“You’re being ridiculous!” I let out a frustrated sound and headed for the chamber door.
“Perhaps, dear wife, but you’re the one denying us both.”
He didn’t follow me inside.