Page 124 of Of Glass and of Gold

Anger and revenge would not only poison me, but would be the cause of Nick’s death. Of me losing the love of my life. A sunrise would never shine bright, and the ocean would never again whisper hope.

I couldn’t lose him, but I had nothing to give, nothing to offer as he lay in my arms, slowly fading.

Marco placed his hands firmly over Nick’s chest. Nick groaned with all the energy he could muster.

“And I thought I was the dramatic one,” Marco said.

A pale purple light glowed from his hands. I watched in stunned silence as threads of that light traveled into the wound. As if by the hands of a master tailor, they wove together, connecting his skin and sealing it together again.

Nick’s face creased in pain, and I gripped his hand, stroking his forehead—the only comfort I could offer. He sat up with a lurch, nearly knocking into Marco and me, who luckily had sharp enough reflexes to move out of the way. He gasped, gurgled, and coughed, spewing out blood. Marco slapped him on the back a few times.

“Thaat’s it big guy, breathe,” he said, giving me a wink.

My hands didn’t leave Nick, couldn’t help but squeeze him, run over him, feel him. “Is he—” I couldn’t finish the question, not if there was a possibility the answer was no.

Nick coughed until the urge died down. Then he twisted, hauling me into his grasp. My hip fell in his lap, my arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that I might actually kill him this time. I sobbed, clutching tight, cradling the back of his head. He didn’t fight it, only secured me with equal force in his arms.

“The suit looks good on you,” he rasped into my ear.

Relief filled every part of me to feel this man, warm and alive, heart beating against my own. “If you ever go and die on me, I’ll kill you,” I warned.

He laughed, the sound of a melody played by the most gifted orchestra. “Same goes for you.”

“Don’t threaten your queen,” I said before pulling back and driving a kiss to his lush, blood stained lips, warmth barely returned to them.

Marco cleared his throat.

We broke our kiss, but I still gripped him tight.

“Where’d you come from?” Nick asked Marco.

His cousin nodded toward the port where a ship sat uncloaked under moonlight. “I was helping with that. There was a woman, I think she was friends with that seer. She said the prince would need me to save his life once the wielder shielding the market and ship had been taken care of.

“Mine and some of Rahana’s soldiers fought the crew on board. It was pretty efficient seeing as that woman simply held the crew time-hostage as we infiltrated. Pretty crafty, if you ask me.” He folded his arms in a surprising display of being impressed. Then he turned his attention back on us. “That seer intercepted me at the market a couple weeks ago and told me the next time she saw me, it would be life or death.”

Nick raised his brow in question.

“Evenita came to the castle. She told us you were in danger, told me to get Odion, Melody, and Sverik, and where to enter,” I explained.

A groan came from a few feet ahead of us, and I blanched when I spotted the commander attempting to drag himself away. Within an instant, I was on my feet, daggers in hand.

I closed the distance, walking over the blood-soaked trail he’d left behind. My foot flew to his ribs, kicking him onto his back.

“You killed my father,” I growled. “And you nearly killed my husband.”

He gazed up at me, a mix of pain and indifference tainting his eyes. A trail of blood trickled from Druller’s mouth, and I could spot the two entry wounds that arrows had pierced. I rammed my heel into his wrist, forcing him to yelp and release the sword he clutched like a lifeline. I kicked it away.

“This is where you belong. On the ground. You’re not worth more than the dirt you’re laying upon.”

“Magic will tear this kingdom apart,” he seethed, coughing on the sharp exhale.

“Magic hasn’t hurt this kingdom. You have.” I stared down at the man responsible for assaulting my town. Who destroyed my family. My life.

He didn’t break his glare, spewing specks of his own blood over himself from his ragged breaths. I palmed my daggers, sensing the weight of them in my hands.

I’d nearly let anger and revenge control me before. But as I clenched the pommels and plunged them into his chest with a warrior’s cry, I whispered into the dying man’s ear, “This isn’t revenge, Commander Druller. This is justice.” I twisted, then ripped the blades out with no touch of gentleness, watching crimson pool on his chest.

This time, when he tried to crawl away, I didn’t stop him. He made it a few feet, leaving the ground stained in his wake before his body finally went limp.

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