Page 183 of The Curse of the Goddess

“Valda!”

Maris released her watery grip, kneeling before her, concern etched upon her features. In her gaze, Valda recognized love and worry, and was reassured that her mate still cared.

In the background, Arwin fought for breath, regaining composure. He brandished the dagger again, and in two menacing strides, he loomed behind Maris, raising the blade high and bringing it down.

Valda, mustering the last of her fading energy, wrapped one arm around her lover, and with her remaining strength, she unleashed a blast of power, hurtling them both off the balcony and throwing Arwin against the walls in a bone-rattling impact.

The wind roared in her ears as they plummeted. Valda clung to Maris, holding her tightly as they fell, desperately summoning a weak and uncontrolled gust of air to cushion their landing. Valda hit the ground first, the impact stealing her breath and forcing her to release Maris, who tumbled a few feet away, silent and motionless.

Swallowing the metallic taste of blood that choked her throat, Valda gazed at Maris, her gaze fixated on the collapsed and broken figure. Dread settled in her gut as she felt the absence of her lover’s bond within her chest. But then, a flicker of movement from Maris stirred hope within Valda. She exhaled a breath of relief.

“M-Maris?” she called out, her voice strained. Reaching out as far as her limited strength allowed, she pleaded, “Get up, please.”

Maris lifted her head from the ground, her eyes locking with Valda’s, determination etched upon her face.

Valda managed to summon a ghostly smile, sensing the apprehension and looming of death reflected in Maris’s eyes—those captivating, familiar eyes that held her own gaze.

An attempt at laughter escaped Valda’s lips, mingling with a spray of blood.

In the final moments before the world slipped into darkness, Valda felt the gods’ benevolence grant her one last precious sight of Maris’s breathtaking blue eyes, etching their essence into her memory as everything faded away.

As Maris pushed herself off the ground, searing pain shot through her left arm, signaling a possible fracture. With a tearful cry, she stumbled back down, the impact jarring her further. Despite Valda’s attempt to soften the fall, their descent had still been hard.

“Gods, Valda!” Maris gasped, her voice anguished.

Opening her eyes, Maris caught Arwin’s imposing figure looming over the balcony of the royal chamber. He gripped the railing, scanning the area below in search of them. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if he couldn’t spot them until his hazel eyes locked with Maris’s.

Bastard. Bastard. Bastard.

Arwin shifted his body back towards the chamber’s interior and shouted something unintelligible to Maris. She had no intention of staying to find out what he meant. Clutching her broken arm, she hurriedly made her way to Valda, sinking to her knees beside her.

“Valda!” Maris shook her forcefully. “Valda, wake up. We have to leave—”

Her words dissolved in her mouth as if stolen along with her breath. She struggled to inhale, to exhale, feeling as if the air around her was being constricted. Her uninjured hand desperately reached out, trying to grasp at an invisible force closing in on her neck. Her lungs burned, and her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears. Gazing upwards, she saw Arwin’s hand extended toward her, choking her, lifting her off the ground as though suspended by an unseen rope.

“Oh, what an honor!” His voice bellowed from the balcony. “To die just like your mother!”

In the midst of the suffocating ordeal, the sound of a whistling arrow sliced through the air, piercing Arwin’s shoulder with a resounding impact. He released his grip on Maris, and she collapsed to the ground once more, her face flushed, gasping for air, but relieved to breathe again.

“I’ve got Maris, Isen! Get Valda now!”

Melvian...

The smaller woman’s lifted Maris, her uninjured arm draped over Melvian’s shoulder. A glimmer of hope ignited in Maris mingling with tears of both joy and desperation that streamed down her cheeks.

Melvian was alive. Alive and well. Her dear friend had survived.

“You’re alive,” Maris whispered, her voice hoarse and low. “I thought he had killed you, along with the others...”

“I managed to escape when he returned,” Melvian explained. “I sensed something was wrong with Isen, so I made my getaway.”

Maris turned her attention to the handsome Sealian just as he released another arrow that found its mark in an approaching soldier’s chest. The guard staggered, clutching at the grievous wound before collapsing, revealing a group of armed soldiers emerging from the castle entrance, their swords drawn.

“We have to leave, now!” Melvian urged, pulling Maris towards her waiting horse.

“Wait! No, no! Valda!” Maris protested.

“Isen has her. We need to go, Maris!” Melvian grasped Maris by the waist, assisting her in mounting the back of her horse.

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