Page 43 of Vows Forged in Blood

I look down and gasp.

“How…?” I run a finger over the thick pink scar on my bicep, the spot where there had been a gruesome wound not long ago. I move and flex my fingers, turning my arm this way and that. I’m a bit sore, just a dull ache, but I’m truly healed.

“Alaric gave you his blood. Your injury was grievous and you’d lost nearly too much blood. It was the only thing to do to save your life.”

More memories rise then, ones I wasn’t sure were real until this moment. Alaric had saved me. He’d taken the Revenant’s head and then he’d cradled my face so gently, spoken my name so tenderly…No. That couldn’t be right. I had to have imagined that part. Hedidsave me, though. I know that much for certain.

“How did he even know to come?”

“You’ll have to ask him that,” Takara says, sounding nearly as tired as I feel. “You need to eat something before you sleep again. No arguments,” she adds sternly, and my lips curl into a small smile as I bob my head in obedience. Takara grabs a tray off of the table across the room and brings it over, watching me like a hawk as I eat the cheese and fruit and cold chicken. I don’t taste much of anything, really. I’m still so…numb, so raw.

I’d been attacked by Revenants. I’d seen people die all around me. I can still smell their blood and hear their cries of agony. I’d nearly had my arm taken clean off by a sword and apparently nearly died as a result. The food almost comes back up, but I force it to stay down, taking slow, deep breaths in and out through my nose. Takara hands me more water and it helps. Eventually, I calm down enough to speak again.

“How long was I asleep? How long as it been since…since it happened?”

“Nearly three days.”

“Three days??” I repeat, incredulous.

“Despite Alaric’s blood, your body needed time and rest to heal. Your mind, as well,” she adds softly. “It was no small thing that happened to you.” Takara squeezes my hand and I squeeze it back, holding on to it for dear life. I wonder if she still remembers her attack after all these years. Had she been as afraid as I’d been? As…helpless?

“I heard you scream,” I say softly, tears stinging my eyes again. “After the fighting started. Everything was chaos and Ididn’t know what to do but I heard you yell my name and then you screamed in pain and I tried to get to you and?—”

Takara places her hand on my cheek, eyes shining.

“I was worried for you too, Dahlia.” She leans forward and places a soft kiss on my forehead. When she pulls back, she tries to look stern. “Do not do that to me again.”

I huff out a small laugh, though the sound is a bit hollow.

“I’ll try my best.” She nods and clears her throat, clearly forcing the emotion away.

“Your friends came to see you. Wesley and Nova. They came the minute word began to spread through the camp.” That made the strange, hollow feeling in my chest ease a bit. I lost friends, but I still have others here who care about me. I’ll go see them as soon as I can. “There will be funeral rites for those slain at dusk. The High General thought that you might want to attend, so he held the ceremony off until you woke. I was fairly certain it would be today that you finally pushed through the darkness.”

My eyes prick again, both at the thought of laying those who gave their lives protecting me to rest, but also at Alaric’s kindness. I wonder again how he knew to come—the bond because of the blood he’s taken from me, perhaps? But…no, he must have already been on the way before he realized something was wrong to get there so quickly—we were still at least an hour from the camp when we were attacked, probably closer to two. Why would he be riding towards the town? An unpleasant thought regarding the blood house drifts into my mind and I forcefully cut the thought off at the knees.

Either way, he was kind in holding the funerals until I could attend, somehow knowing that I would want to be there to say goodbye.

“Yes, I’d like to attend.” I glance towards the window but the curtains are closed tightly and I have no idea what time it might be. “How long do I have to get ready?” I start to throw my feetover the edge but Takara stops me, gently pressing me back into the pillow.

“Hours yet. Rest, Dahlia. I’ll wake you when it’s time.” I start to protest—I’ve been sleeping for three days already, apparently—but a wide yawn splits my face and my argument is lost before it’s begun. “Rest,” Takara says again, pointedly. I nod and settle back into bed. Takara tucks the covers around me and I’m already nearly asleep, my lids feeling heavy as lead.

“Tell Alaric I said thank you…for…for everything…” I whisper before the darkness welcomes me once more.

The funerals are simple,but beautiful. Alaric’s gaze slips to mine as Takara and I approach the gathering and my pulse races even as my entire body seems to sigh in relief, practically melting with it, with each step that I take closer to him.All the blood, I realize. I’m even more connected to him now than ever before because of the blood he’d given to heal me. His eyes burn with too many things for me to name, but eventually he simply inclines his head in greeting as I take my place in the first row of soldiers beside him. A place of honor.

Takara slips in beside me, clasping my hand and squeezing gently. Three wooden pyres have been constructed, and atop each one is a body of one of my guards—of one of my friends. My throat feels thick and acid churns in my belly, my eyes already pricking with tears, but I try to hold them back. I need to be strong, like the thousands of soldiers behind me.

On some signal I don’t see, Elias steps forward, a torch of rowan wood in his hands.

“A death in battle is a death well given. Descartes Moreau, we mourn you and honor you by battling another day. Vale, brother.”

A seemingly endless echo ofvale, brotherrumbles through the lines of soldiers. Tears slide silently down my face and I grip Takara’s hand tightly as Elias touches the end of his torch to Descartes’ pyre. The flames dance up the wood, sparking and jumping until they’re so high they seem to touch the clouds above. He moves to the next pyre and repeats the words.

“Isaiah Burrowleaf…”

Vale, brother.

“Kane Aurelius…”

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