Page 189 of Warlord's Plaything

Not now.

Not after everything.

Not when she is still here, still fighting, still breathing.

I promised.

And I keep my promises.

I gasp. A ragged, broken sound, pulling in air that tastes like blood and dust.

Hira jerks back, eyes wide, breath catching in her throat.

Her face, Gods, her face is streaked with dirt, with blood, with the raw devastation of someone who was ready to lose everything. And now, she gazes at me like I am the only thing in this gods-damned world that matters.

"Xyron?"

Her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.

Disbelieving.

Fragile.

Like she is afraid to hope.

I swallow, my throat raw, my chest burning.

"You’re loud."I rasp. A half-smile, weak and sharp."Even in death, you don’t shut up."

She laughs.

A sound that isn’t a laugh at all, but a broken, choking sob.

And then she is on me, gripping my armor, shoving her face against my neck, her body trembling as she breathes me in.

"You fucking bastard,"she whispers."You almost?—"

Her voice shatters, and I feel the wetness against my skin. Tears. Hira is crying.

I almost ruined her. I almost left her.

And that thought… That thought destroys me.

I lift a shaking hand, threading my fingers into her tangled hair, pressing her closer."I’m here."

It’s all I can say.

60

HIRA

The battlefield is silent.

The air is thick with the aura of blood and magic, but the worst is over.

The dead do not rise again.

The temple is nothing more than ruins, its dark power sealed forever.

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