Page 130 of An Honored Vow

I swallowed. “My only concern is for you.” I held up her newly branded wrist. “He held power over you for so long and when you’re finally free of it, you—”

Gwyn gently pulled her hand free of my grip. “Keera, I love you. But I am old enough to make my own choices.”

I let my hand fall and stood there unsure of how to respond.

A hint of a smile pulled at Gwyn’s mouth. “But I appreciate your concern. If Damien spends a month or two writhing in pain, it will not scar me. He can wait for you to establish Elvish society once again.”

“And then?”

Gwyn shrugged. “And then you can decide what to do with him. Hold a trial for him in front of the council. If they wish him dead, I will try to find a way to break his tethers.” Her face turned serious. “But I shattered that blade for a reason, Keera. Your debt is paid. When Damien dies, it will not be you who ends him.”

I opened my mouth, but Gwyn grabbed both of my hands.

“Promise me, Keera,” Gwyn demanded, knowing the weight that word held for me. “We have more than earned a life beyond this. And there are still so many places that you need to show me. Set your blade down.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. The whiplash of the past hour flooded my body and I swayed backward against the wall. My life wouldn’t end in these godforsaken cells.

It wouldn’t end at all.

I tightened my grip on Gwyn. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to enter into a promise so soon after releasing myself from the first. But Gwyn was right, it was time for me—for her—to live. And that I had already promised to do.

I wrapped my arm around her neck. “I promise, Gwyn.”

CHAPTERFORTY-NINE

IFOUND RIVEN AT THE EDGEof the battlefield. Hundreds of Elverin were laid out, some already wrapped in linen for burial and some merely covered by their bloodstained cloaks.

“It hurts to breathe,” Uldrath whispered to Riven, who had his arm wrapped around the boy. His tiny hand held the limp wrist of his father, who was covered by a brown cloak.

Riven’s eyes were misted, but he cleared his throat to answer him. “It will feel like that for a while. Your lungs need time to learn to breathe in air that your father has never touched.”

Uldrath looked up at Riven, thin rivers dripping down his face. “But what if it stops and I forget him?”

Riven pulled out thediizrafrom his neck. “Your mother and you will make one of these for your father. And you’ll carry it for a year. That’s how long it will take for your lungs to adjust and for your sadness to lessen.” Riven glanced at me, relief flooding his face, but hekept speaking. “Then you will plant hisdiizraback home, and Vrail will help you see him again.”

Uldrath wiped his nose. “So he’s not gone?”

“None of them is.” Riven squeezed the boy and knelt to face him eye to eye. “Your father never wanted to leave you, Drath. But he fought today so you had a life larger than two small cities. And now you do because of him and all the others who fought too.”

Uldrath’s nose wrinkled. “I would have lived with him at home forever.” He looked around at the burnt forest and the blood-soaked earth. “I don’t like it here anyway.” His lower lip trembled, and Riven pulled him into an embrace, holding him until his sobs tired.

There were no words to cure a pain like that.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It justwas.

The price of freedom was paid for in blood and grief. It tore at my heart to know that some as young as Uldrath would pay it too. Noemdra came and scooped up her son. Her tears had dried to flaky lines on her face.

Riven laced his fingers through mine but didn’t say a word as we walked through the rows and rows of dead. Nikolai and Vrail stood at the end of the row closest to the tent. Their hands were tied together as they stared down at Syrra and Fyrel.

“Where’s Gwyn?” I asked. I’d lost track of her when we returned.

Nikolai nodded in the direction of Rheih’s tent. “She’s helping the wounded. I don’t think she can handle seeing this just yet.”

I grasped Nikolai’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me. Finally, the reality of what we’d done came crashing down. There was so much to do, so much to rebuild, but it was ours to do it. But Syrra was gone. And Pirmiith. And Fyrel. And so many pieces of myself I didn’t know if I was truly alive. Perhaps I had died on the battlefield when I tore into the second sun, only to wake up inan identical body made of grief. A sob burst through my chest and didn’t stop. My knees gave out and Riven was there to catch me. He cradled me against his chest and just started walking.

He walked for what felt like hours and all the way I cried. Tears for everyone we had lost, everyone who was in pain. But for the first time I cried for myself. The weight of my promise no longer tugged at my shoulders, and despite the grief, I was lighter than I had ever been. Finally ready to leave my life as Blade behind and discover who Keera was.

Riven sat us down along the beach and I leaned against his chest, letting the rhythm of the waves count my breaths.

---