Page 80 of Heart Cradle
Cira turned her back and left the room without a word, respectfully silent and no one else saw. No one witnessed Eiran crying for everything that could’ve been lost. He gasped for breath between sobs, but it wouldn’t come right. His chest hitched, his mouth opened, but no words formed, just sound, just pain. The kind only grief, love and helpless, blistering relief can make. His spine curled inward, curving him over her hand like he could shield her even now. His armour cracked, not the prince, not the mate, but the male beneath it. The boy who had feared losing the one thing he’d dared to love.
Tears soaked her wrist, hot and constant, his hands trembled around hers. “I thought I’d lost you,” he choked, voice raw. “Fuck, Maeve. I thought you.. you w-were gone… I didn’t know h-how to breathe. I didn’t…”
He broke again, words drowning in another sob. He gripped her hand tighter, like he could anchor himself with it. All the power he held, all the magic, the name, the title, none of it had mattered in that moment. He would have traded every crown, every realm, every drop of his blood just to see his mate’s chest rise again. Now it did, and still he wept. The cries poured out, unrelenting. A terrible, aching crescendo until there was no silence or restraint left.
The vulnerability of memories.
The weeping slowed, not because the grief had lessened, but because it had been spent, wrung out in full. Leaving only the hollow echo of what might have been lost. Maeve stirred faintly, her fingers twitched in his, she was alive and that was enough.
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Sister
Solirra’s wings beat against the smoke-heavy air as she descended towards Haleth. Aeilanna leaned forwards in the saddle, squinting through the thick haze and rolling black clouds. The village was barely recognisable, burned out and broken, almost completely gutted by fire and magic. Then she saw them, Jeipier launched first, his golden wings catching the faintest glint of light and Xelaini followed a breath later, carrying something limp and blood-soaked in her claws.
“Eiran?” Aeilanna’s stomach lurched. “Solirra can’t reach them.”
“No,” Nolenne said quickly, eyes narrowed. “Xelaini wouldn’t carry him that way. She’d fly him to the village’s transport stone in an emergency, that must be someone else.”
Even so, unease settled between them, Solirra circled once before landing in the outskirts, the two females dismounted as Melrathen soldiers rallied to them, wounded, filthy and exhausted. The village as a battlefield was chaos. Villagers still screamed, flames climbed thatched roofs as enemy soldiers stalked the streets, setting fires with mindless fury. Aeilanna didn’t hesitate. “To me!” she shouted, voice slicing through the din. “We must shield the civilians and cut off the northern lane!”
Nolenne was already moving, blades flashing, flames bursting at her feet. The two carved through the chaos with ruthless precision, every motion clean and brutal.
Aeilanna raised her free hand mid-turn, golden filaments of light spiralling from her fingers like ribbons, runes and sigils blooming in the air as if stitched from sunlight. One thread snapped forwards, searing through an Avelan’s helm and dropping him without a sound. Another coiled around a soldier's legs like a snare, yanking him off his feet as she closed the distance with a brutal strike from the hilt of her sword. She spun, cloak flaring, and with a single word in the old tongue, the spellwrought threads ignited, lancing through two more foes in a dazzling arc. Fire met steel in harmony, her magic moving like silk through flame, precise and merciless.
“Take them alive!” Nolenne reminded the Melrathen troops over her shoulder. “We need answers, our King wants proof!”
She caught one of the enemy soldiers mid-cast, tackling him hard and slamming her elbow into the side of his head. He crumpled to the ground, dazed. She knelt to bind him with enchanted cord, but a force hither from behind, sending her sprawling into the dirt. She rolled, instinctively coming up in a crouch, sword raised and then she saw him, her brother.
Davmon.
Older now, harder and his eyes were colder than she remembered. The insignia of Avelan’s Commander gleamed on his breastplate, smeared with blood. “My cunt sister, you are slower than I remember,” he sneered, blade swinging as he stalked towards her.
Nolenne straightened, chest heaving. “What is it, Dav?” she spat. “You here to kill your last sibling? Finish the job properly?”
He laughed, it sounded vile and echoed with something rotten. “Sibling?” he said, mocking. “I have no sibling.”
Her heart twisted, but she didn’t flinch. “You did once, a mother and father too,” she said. “Before they threw us into that pit, before you murdered our brother.”
His smile widened, sick with satisfaction. “That’s not how I remember it. He lost, I won, that’s the law.”
She stepped forwards, fury building beneath her skin like a storm. “You lost everything that day. I lost everything, my parents, my brothers.”
“I didn’t lose everything,” he said, lifting his blade. “I gained purpose.”
Their swords clashed, the air cracked with magic, grief, and a lifetime of betrayal. Steel clanged as their blades met, the sound sharp enough to cut the air itself. Sparks erupted with each strike, magic pulsing at the edges of Nolenne’s fury. She ducked low, trying to sweep his legs, but he jumped, pivoting mid-air, and came down with a savage arc aimed for her collarbone. She parried just in time, the impact jarring through her arms.
“You’ve actually gotten better,” Davmon said, circling her like a predator. “Almost makes me proud.”
“Don’t talk to me about pride,” Nolenne snapped, flinging a wall of heat towards him, runes flaring red on her sword.
The flame curled like a whip, catching his arm and setting part of his cloak alight, he didn’t react, he just smiled. “I remember you crying when they threw us in,” he said. “I remember thinking you’d be the first to die.”
Nolenne’s jaw clenched. “You were wrong then, and you’re wrong now.”
She lunged, slicing across his thigh, blood welled through his armour. He grunted, twisted, and drove his elbow into her ribs. She gasped but didn’t fall, her hand came up, glowing with a rune of fire and one of wind, and blasted him backwards into a crumbling wall. Stone shattered and dust exploded outward but Davmon stood, wiping blood from his lip, expression unchanged. “Still so fucking soft. You fight like someone with something to lose.”
“I do, I fight for them and everyone Avelan took.” She motioned to the villagers behind her. “Doesn’t this remind you of our own village?”
He charged with a roar, blade aimed at her throat. She dodged, narrowly, and they locked together in a brutal tangle, steel on steel, shoulder to shoulder, power colliding with power. Sparks flew as enchantments clashed, magic hummed beneath their feet, warping the air with heat and pressure. Nolenne twisted and drove her knee into his stomach, then followed with a searing punch ignited with fire. He stumbled, but caught her plaited hair and yanked her head back. “I should’ve killed you then,” he hissed into her ear.
