Page 5 of Of Vows and War: Special Edition
“Beings like Yuza and Ash are rare. But even more rare is the group who gets to love them—to beinlove with them. We are special, you and I, because we were awarded their hearts.” I felt her small fingers grip my face, the tips digging into my cheeks as she forced me to face her. Those knowing eyes bore into me and threatened to bring me to tears. Lian, more than anyone, knew what it was to lose your love because they were determined to save the world. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you do not lose Asher in the way I lost Yuza. We will bring her home.Alive.”
With that, Lian released my face and braced her hands on the dirt beside me. I watched with surprise as the Air cuddled up next to me—in the dirt no less. When she was tucked closely to my side and facing the blowing tree limbs above like I was, I finally found my words. “Thank you, Lian.”
Her sharp chuckles filled the air, both of her hands folding over her shaking sternum. “There are many things you owe me thanks for, Bell, but this is not one of them. Asher is as much mine as she is yours. One day she will be my queen, regardless of which realm she presides over. Iwillfollow her, just as Cyprus,Ranbir, and Noe will. Just asyouwill. She is…well, she is made for a throne.”
A smile lifted my cheeks at her words, but—just as each rare moment of joy that occurred in the days since Ash was taken from me—it did not settle the storm of despair that clouded my heart and rained down horrifying thoughts upon my mind.
“Remember that time you painted Yuza for me?” She whispered the question as she lifted her hand, five fingers twirling through the air. I watched as the trees bent to the coming wind, green leaves breaking free to dance within Lian’s power. Lian had always been stronger than most fae. She was once the third strongest Air to live, and she would have been named Warden of her lands eighty years ago if she had only found love within her faction.
But love did not care what was easy. Star-crossed souls, that was what Yuza and Lian were—what Asher and I are.
“Yes, I do. Faintly. It was not very good,” I finally said in response. Lian did not acknowledge my aloofness at her question, nor did she accuse me of not listening. We had been together for over eight decades. Too long to not know better.
“It is beautiful, actually. Yuza still rests above my desk in Haven, just as her ashes still lie beneath the grass. Noe has taken me there seventeen times since the fae queen attacked. I always reach up as if to take the portrait, but instead I find myself sliding my finger across her long black hair. My skin traces the bold blue of her irises, the color gone from my memory now, and then down her jaw. Before she died, I would do that in the mornings—touch the skin from her ear to her chin. Her left side was fuller than her right, making her face asymmetrical in the most alluring way. Now, I cannot recall what she felt like. Cannot remember the sound of her enchanting laugh. As if she never existed.” Though Lian did not cry, there was a shaky quality to her voice, the tone ebbing as she spoke. Not allowingmyself to second guess the choice, I quickly gripped her free hand, interlacing our fingers. The Air smiled softly, turning her head to face me as I did her. “I wonder sometimes if it is better to have loved and lost, or if it might be a greater mercy to never love at all.”
Chapter Four
Asher
In my dreams, I recalled the pain of death and lies—the festering wounds that bubble and burst from the life and truth that seek freedom from their confines. More than that, I dreamt of what life would be like if only I had known better.
***
Day One.
My eyes did not see. My ears did not hear. But my body—my skin, my bones, my mind—they felt. Yes, I felt it all.
***
Day Two.
His voice was soft, his accent strong—like his tongue was too heavy to lift sometimes. It was peaceful, listening as he offered ballads of war and love and death. Yet, I could not will my eyes to open, my limbs to move. Perhaps they were gone. But my ears, they were there, and they listened as the golden-haired prince sang.
***
Day Three.
My blood felt as if it boiled within me, a crack and sizzle that scorched its way to my still-beating heart.
Alive. I was alive.
Despite the fire blazing within me, my skin was pebbled and my limbs were shivering. The moment I acknowledged the chill of the air and the stone floor beneath me, my teeth began to chatter, as if my mind had just realized my jaw was still there. A sound to my left forced my heavy lids open, the startling awareness of another being nearby sending fear clawing up my spine. I tried to sit up, to take on a defensive position of any kind, but a rock connected with my temple, pain shooting through my head.
No, not a rock. There was no rock. I knew this agony well. I could still recall the first time I had been sentenced to my low level room—could feel the way the leather band scraped against my neck. I was five the first time my magic got away from me. The first time I was punished for an outburst. The screams that had torn my throat to shreds, the tears that had stained my cheeks for days, the piercing ache of my head—yes, it was a blocker that was doing this to me.
“Asher? Oh my gods, you are awake. Hold on, let me grab that water. Stay still, please.” That voice, the heavy and deeptune so different when he was not singing, lulled me. I laid my head back upon the stone, content to listen for once. Every part of my body hurt, as if I had been thrown off a cliffside and forced to simply deal with the pain of it all. Perhaps that was how everyone lived. I had never been taught to bandage my wounds. There were many things I had not been taught. I could not cook or sew, could not clean or sail. And maybe that was to make sure I was never able to exist beyond the gilded walls of the palace I grew up in. Or maybe it was because I let myself be a prisoner and never asked for anything more than I was given.
Maybe it was both.
“Okay, I am going to try to help you sit up, but I need you to first crawl to the bars. It will hurt. Gods above, I know it will hurt. But if you can get to me, Asher, I can help you,” Sterling vowed, his voice a broken whisper. I knew then that he was not aware of just how many times I had been in this very predicament. Chuckling, I willed my hands to flatten upon the ground below, pushing my torso up and lifting my horribly heavy head. Nausea rolled through me in waves, my body begging me to simply lay down and sleep once more. But I ignored the aches and pains and desperate need for rest. Instead, I moved to my forearms and pulled myself to the left—to the mortal prince beyond the bars. That was when I felt it.
My back protested the movement, the freshly healed skin splitting and blood dripping to mix with the dried flakes from days ago. With a cry of both pain and fury, I dragged my body across the stone. Sterling croaked out a praise, urging me to continue. When my fingertips touched the icy iron of the bars that separated our cages of captivity, I gasped in relief. Sterling’s large hand gripped my wrist, gently tugging me the rest of the way. Looking up, I met his gaze of pure anguish, those warm brown irises staring right back at me.
“You did perfectly, Asher. Now let me help.” As he reached through the bars, bringing a metal cup of what I desperately hoped was water to my lips, I allowed myself to take him in. He titled the cup, water slowly filling my mouth, and I watched the way his jaw flexed in concentration. It was more square than Theon’s version, his cheekbones higher and his skin paler. His curls were far more wild, like his sister’s spun locks.
Too much water entered my mouth, my distraction causing me to choke. Panic flooded his face, his eyes widening and jaw going slack. I laughed through the burn in my throat, noticing how his shoulders slumped when I finally took a full breath. His torso was bare for some reason, the malnutrition he suffered obvious in his protruding collarbones and ribs.
Sterling set down the cup then. Those green-flecked brown irises flicked downwards momentarily before quickly returning to my own. I cocked my head to the left, the motion making my heart ache as I thought of whose habit I had adopted. All of that sorrow was quickly replaced with horror though, because Sterling’s fingers were moving toward my chest. I jolted back, feeling my back cry out as more skin separated and ripped open. Sterling froze, his fingers inches from me.
