Page 69 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
Time slows.
Terror floods my soul.
“Naei!” my dragon king roars, lunging in front of me before the weave can strike—a living shield once more.
Brisa and Glorana follow, loyal to the end. But Velda is still nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she is already dead.
Or perhaps she is a useless coward, just like me.
The strange weave slams home, flinging Bene backward. Straight into me. Knocking me back to the ground. Into the mud. But it is not the weight of a grown man collapsing atop me that knocks the air from my lungs.
It is the sensation that comes after:
That of our bond snapping. My soul quieting. My mind growing still.
Dark. Empty.
“Bene!” I scream, hoarse, frantic. But he doesn’t answer me. I search for the silver thread that once bound us together, but it is gone.
My hands claw at his shoulders, rolling him off me and onto his back. Nearby, Brisa and Glorana lie motionless. But I barely see them through the rain. Through my tears. All I can see is Bene.
Bene with his glassy eyes and his unseeing stare. Bene with the slowly dimming Corona Ignis still on his brow. The Corona Ignis that finally winks out while I watch, becoming nothing more than a gold circlet once more.
No.
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
“Bene!” I scream again, shaking him, desperately trying to wake him. But it’s no use. His eyes do not blink. His body does not move.
No. Please, no. He can’t be dead.
It can’t end. Not like this.
The storm abruptly stops. Lightning no longer flashes overhead. Thunder no longer booms. But still, the rain falls—pattering against my bowed head and shaking hands in a gentle drizzle.
As if the Great Weaver weeps with me.
From far away, I am aware of the great gates of Spindleton creaking open. I am aware of hoofbeats sounding on the sodden road leading out of the capital city. I am aware of Friedemar and his soldiers drawing to a halt.
But I do not care. Nothing matters anymore.
Let these men rip each other apart, warring over me if that is their wish.
The only man I have ever loved is dead.
Bene. My hands cup his cheeks, stroking the still-warm skin.I’m sorry.
The Aether wraps around me, holding me steady, as the first sob breaks from my throat.
I should have done something.
« You did your best. »
But was I not hisTherya’kai? He died, suffering. He died in pain.
I should have been able to share that pain.
