Page 146 of Wrath of the Dragons
Cayden
Every path I’ve walked hasalways led to Elowen, and as I push myself up from my knees with the hilt of a sword I pry from the fingers of a corpse, I turn in the direction of her again. The decimated army is all around me, and yet I feel nothing but grief. Devastation.
My chest physically hurts despite my only wound being a slice on my bicep. I don’t recall someone cutting me. I barely even notice it now. Blood leaks from the gash and down my arm, and I hope whatever parts of me soak into the earth find Elowen and keep us together where life has torn us apart. Flowers will grow from her spilled blood whereas mine will leave behind a barren land to starve anyone who hopes to find any shred of mercy. She is blessed by life, and though I’m the one with air in my lungs, each breath I take brings me closer to death and I’m thankful for it.
I trudge through the bodies and forest, needing to be with her again.
Elowen’s curls spill over Finnian’s lap, and Ryder does his best to console a screaming Saskia, but he’s in no state to offer strength. They look at me when I emerge, I see it in the corner of my eye, but all I care about is my dead wife.
My wife.
The woman I vowed to protect. The woman who was my only happiness in this world.
Twigs snap as Ryder and Saskia approach.
“Don’t touch me.” The words are raw, hollow. Clawing their way up my throat that feels like sandpaper. The last person I held was Elowen, when she screamed in my arms. I grit my teeth, dragging my hands through my hair and pulling at the roots, welcoming the pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Ryder whispers.
I shake my head, unable to hear any of this. I can’t speak of her as if she’s dead when her love lives within me like a flame.
Saskia tries to open her mouth to say something, but a whimper cuts her off.
I step around them, returning to Elowen’s side. Nyrinn must have removed the final arrows after I left. Finnian’s vacant eyes stare forward, entirely drained of hope. Venatrix lands behind her and roars. What was once mighty is now broken, and I understand the beast more than I ever have.
Finnian doesn’t move as I lift her, cradling her in my arms and walking back to camp. One by one, as if setting loose a wave of devotion and devastation, soldiers drop to their knees at the sight of their lost queen. The sky opens, weeping for her, and Sorinscreams.I wonder how much he understands about what’s happening, if he knows Elowen sacrificed herself so that he would live.
“We can take her, Your Majesty,” a woman steps forward. “We can clean her.”
“Nobody touches a hair on her fucking head,” I darkly state. “And whoever follows me will be slain on sight.”
I walk through the camp, not stopping until I make it to an abandoned cottage along the road. It’s quaint, smelling of cinnamon and firewood, and I duck under a low-hanging beam to a room in the back. I kiss her forehead while placing her on the bed and begin drawing a bath in the en suite tub.
“I know you hate the feeling of blood on your skin after it dries,” I say, moving to the small armoire in the corner. Whoever lived heremust’ve left in a hurry—everything seems untouched. My heavy hand tugs a simple lavender gown off the hanger with bell sleeves lined in white fur. The same kind Elowen always wears. “I don’t think I ever told you that lavender is my favorite color. It has been since the moment I saw you in the gown you wore to your first dinner in Vareveth. Ever since then, I think of you whenever I see it.”
I keep my back to her, and for a moment I pretend that her big brown eyes are fixed on me, hanging on to every syllable and waiting for more. “I didn’t know how to speak my feelings aloud, but I’d hear music when I looked at you. I have sheets upon sheets of melodies I’d conjure from the simplest moments we spent together.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, resting my forehead on the wood after I slam the door shut. She’s not here. She’s not fucking here. She was supposed to survive and run to me like she did after the battle in Galakin. I can still picture her in the upcoming summer, making bouquets with the flowers she grows and sprawling out on the grass with her dragons.
I remove my armor until all I’m left in is a black shirt and pants, and gently strip her leathers and armor off. Pain shoots through me at the sight of her blood-covered torso. Black markings from the poison stretch across her chest but have begun to fade now that it’s done its job, I suppose. I press my lips together, hoisting her in my arms again and testing the water before placing her inside.
I run soap through her hair, detangling the curls matted from the wind and blood.So much blood.“I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
The words taste like acid, and I turn away from her to retch into a bucket. The bile burns my throat, and I wipe my mouth and rinse it before finishing what I started. The first thing she does after every fight and battle is strip out of her leathers and bathe. I dry her body and place her back on the bed to dress her wounds with a roll of gauze. My hands shake as I wrap her. I don’t know how to not take care of her. I don’t know how to let her go. I don’t know how to accept that she’s not just sleeping.
I drop to my knees after sliding the gown up her body and settling it on her shoulders.
“Always so beautiful.” I run my knuckles down her cheek. “Elowen, love, I won’t survive this.”
I take her cold hand in mine and bow my head to rest it against her stomach, my tears soaking the fabric. I thought I had nothing once, but I would take the days of endless fighting and starvation over this without a second thought. I feel as if I’m a rotting corpse with a heartbeat, like fate has bestowed upon me the one enemy I can’t draw my sword against.
I look out the window, to where the sun paints the sky red as the darkness of the eclipse and shadows remains. There must be something I can do to help her, to bring her back. I force my mind to conjure everything I read on necromancy when I was younger. In most cases, mortals bargained with the Goddess of Souls, Mercy, and Destiny to save a loved one from death.
A red sky.
Where have I heard that before?
In Galakin.
