Page 51 of The Princesses of Ruin
The nightmare of Scarlett gutting me—turning me into a puppet of evil—invades my thoughts. I kill Alyse and turn her into a monster, then we all go after Reina.
Is that our fate?
Will Ashai slowly overtake Scarlett’s mind until she pours the dark goddess’s poison into us?
“Everything to me,” Alastair mumbles against my hair and nestles closer.
Tension bleeds out of my body, and my muscles relax, letting sleep take me.
The next flight is harder, colder. The winter in the north is punishing. Why anyone would want to live here is beyond me. Perhaps being snuggled in a cottage next to a fire with a hot toddy would be nice, but I see no other reason to stay here other than solitude. We haven’t passed a village in many miles.
I let the vision of warmth and security, of a slow life filled with sex and cuddling, push me until dark when we camp again. We’ve reached the edge of Seter where darkness reigns in the winter. Duskwalkers and dire wolves alike stride freely in the black of never-ending night.
The storm calms and the sky opens as I set up our final joint camping ground. Adrik and Emillia will break off from us tomorrow and head into the mountains where the wolves are said to make their dens. Alastair and I will go to the coast, seeking the caves that run deeper than those in Fynren—to the core of Gaien, some think.
The creatures lure wanderers into their homes with promises of warmth and the smell of food, then feast on their flesh. Duskwalkers are said to be part man, part wolf, part elk, and whatever else they can sink their teeth into. Each kill makes them stronger, and more like the thing they consume.
There are those who have dedicated their lives to discovering more about them, and while I appreciate the research we had at our disposal, I, for one, think they’re fucking disgusting. An abomination. I will have no problems severing its head for its antlers. The anticipation of such has my claws flexing at my cuticles, begging forrelease. I want to fight it. I’ll pour my wrath into the monster and be free of the growing ache in my spirit.
My thoughts are loud when we bed down for the night, so I drown myself in Alastair’s affection. His cock fills me so completely I lose track of not just our quest but my identity. I let him morph me into his wife and nothing else.
As he drifts to sleep, the volume of the darkness in my skull becomes near deafening. I can’t sense the howling wind or hear Alastair’s breathing. All I can hear is my damnation, and the doom of my kingdom.
I want to drink it away, but even if we had brought anything, I couldn’t. I promised Alastair and my sisters I wouldn’t imbibe until this was all done. But my bag has the next best thing: calming draught. It’s not the carefree mental relief I’m looking for, but at least with this potion, the bleak thoughts get farther away.
Yes, times are tough.
Yes, trials are ahead.
Yes, we all might die.
But right now, I’m wrapped in the arms of my devoted husband. I’m warm and comfortable. Right now is the only thing that exists, and I must live here, in this moment. The only other option is death.
The wind tries to break me in the morning. It bays like a hungry hound and bites my cheeks. I wish we’d been able to take Alastair’s warmth-warded ring, but Reina needed it much more.
We eat a final meal of bread, cheese, and cured meat together. Between me and Adrik, we’re able to warm it all up into a crispysandwich with our magic. Even the winter wind is jealous of our last little joy.
My stomach constricts as I watch the pair pack, so I take another three drops of calming draught. They’re going to face cunning creatures with fangs longer than my fingers and jaws capable of crushing a human skull, but I have to believe they’ll be all right together.
Alastair’s warm hand rubs a circle on my back. “We will see them again soon.”
He holds up the tracking charm he made special for them, and it glows brightly with his red magic. Adrik clutches the light glowing from under his fuzzy parka and looks at us. His face is fully covered, goggles blocking the punishing wind, but his determination and strength is visible in his stance. He nods and shoulders his pack, as does Emillia.
I like her. I hope they’ll be all right.
Alastair drapes me in comfortable furs and I wrap him uptightly as well, using my magic to seal out the cold. We’re restricted in our movements, but we’re perfectly safe from the harsh weather. He shoulders our now-deflated pack and grabs my gloved hand.
Into the wind we walk for miles, hunting for signs of our prey. Alastair’s demon senses pull us this way and that until what little sun there was dips below the horizon. I can’t tell if it’s really night or if Nol’Ther just wants us blind.
She’s greedy for our deaths.
We set camp, small and buried in the snow to avoid detection, and forgo a fire in favor of sharing in each other’s warmth. Our lovemaking has become ritual now. So necessary, but devoid of life or passion. I need him to feel alive and he needs me to feel like there’s something still worth living for.
On we trudge. The sun peeks above the horizon for a few hours only to drop back down into darkness not long after. The howling wind makes the days feel like years, and at this point, I’m wishing for a duskwalker to come take me. End my suffering.
Seems like it might be time for more calming draught.
Or maybe less.
