Page 55 of His Bride

“You were a good girl,” I reassure her. “You did your job, and you can rest now. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I failed. I let her… they… took her.”

“You didn’t fail. You protected her. You were the best.”

I feel the moment life leaves her. The tension in her body fades and she becomes a heavy weight against me, warm, leaking and absent of animating spark.

A tear traces down my scarred cheek.

I thought this was a day like any other. I did not sense the danger coming. My wife did. My missing, pregnant, teenage wife knew better than I. There is no excuse for this failure. It is mine, and mine alone.

I could fall into misery and despair right now, but I harden my heart.

As I release her body gently, I see a note all too late, crumpled in Lydia’s hand.

The bastards left it with her to give me.

“Come to the Wastelands. Do not alert the garrison. If you try to hunt us down, you will lose your wife and unborn child.” — L

I pick up Lydia in my arms. Her blood covers my clothes, but I do not care. I carry her out of the house like the bride she never got to become. There were dozens of lives she never lived because she chose to dedicate herself to the protection of my family. I wish I had rejected her application. I wish I had discharged her against her will. I wish I had not been so selfish, knowing she would have done anything for me.

The first soldier I encounter looks at me with wide eyes.

“Archon-General, what has happened?”

I hand her to him, carefully. He takes her with the same reverence, not understanding how this terrible thing happened. I will not tell him, either. I cannot bring myself to utter the words that would serve as an explanation.

“If I do not return in three days, ensure she is buried with full honors.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he says.

“Thank you.”

I go down to my vehicle in the same clothing. I am not going to change. This blood is the last essence of the woman who sacrificed everything for me. I will not wash her away, nor do I have time. My bride is in the grips of absolute madmen who will do anything to wrest power away from the Artifice. They do notcare how foolish and indeed, impossible their quest is. They’re following human folly, the same stupidity that led our species into war after war time and time again. The Artifice is the only chance for peace, and I will sacrifice everything for it.

I drive to the Wasteland in something of a haze. I am armed, of course, though I know it will do me little good. They are not stupid enough to kill my personal guard, take my wife, threaten her life and the life of my child, and not think that I will come to them armed with a vengeance.

They are not hard to find. There is a militia clearly visible among the ruins. It was not there last time I was here with Mila. This is a quickly built mobile installation, purposefully constructed to greet me.

As I get out of the vehicle, I see that Lance is waiting for me. He is no longer confined to his chair. Instead he is wearing an exo-suit that allows him to stand seven feet tall. I know he is much stronger than before, even at his peak as a soldier. The technology he is wearing gives him the grip strength and crushing power of a hydraulic machine.

“You shouldn’t have pushed us to this, Arthur,” he says, instantly defensive as I confront him.

“You killed my guard. And you told me I had time to think.”

“She killed herself. She could have stood aside. We gave her plenty of chances to submit. We even tried to subdue her without hurting her. She fought so fiercely we had no choice but to kill her. As for time to think? I knew you’d never agree. We gave you a chance, and you blew it.”

His words are stupid, arrogant, and above all, cruel. These men like to call the Artifice terrible, but they are capable of so muchworse. The Artifice never does anything to be evil or to cause suffering on purpose. But these men, they concocted a plan that would only ever end in tragedy.

“You destroyed someone more honorable and valuable than you could ever be.”

“We needed your wife, because we need your obedience. Nobody else needs to die, except if you decide to make that necessary.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Oh, it’s very simple. And it’s something that should have been done a very long time ago.”

“Tell me.”

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