Page 173 of Kissed By the Gods
I press Leina’s limp body against my chest, as if I can share my heartbeat. The Veil spat her out—her and Vaeloria both—unconscious and broken. Her skin is cold beneath my hands. Her breathing is so faint I have to press my fingers to her throat, searching for the tiny flutter of life still beating there. She's covered in dirt and grime. The Aishan healer said he couldn’t feel her pulse at all, that she was cooling, and he had others to save.
But I know she’s alive.I know. I can feel it. I’m not crazy—not yet. Not until she’s gone.
So now I hold a dagger to the healer’s throat as he sews the flesh on her arm back together. Another works on Vaeloria as Einarr snorts and paces in a threatening way nearby.
I want Elowen here. Elowen would know what to do. Elowen would heal her. But Elowen isn’t coming, so I stay where I am. I hold Leina tighter and keep a watchful, bitter eye on the healer who would’ve let her bleed out without a second thought. I murmur nonsense into her hair, to fill the hollow space between us.
Aruveth is doing what he can to return order—barking orders, dragging wounded men back from the brink, trying to count the dead. And still, he comes to our desolate section of the beach when he sees us. He kneels, propping his weight on his heels, looking first at Nyrica working on Thalric, then at Leina in my arms.
“Thank you,” he says roughly. Aruveth casts a hard look at the healer, who flinches but keeps stitching, his hands clumsy. Idon’t move the dagger from the healer’s neck, and The Steward doesn’t ask me to.
“Without you. Without the Elder. Without her …” His eyes fall on Leina. He doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he can’t. But we all know—without Leina, without the Elder, they’d all be dead. Every last one of them—babe, woman, and man.
Leina's eyes snap open. She gasps in a deep, ragged breath, the sound of someone breaking the surface of water after drowning. Color floods back into her skin, chasing away the deathly gray that held her. The healer stumbles back, falling hard onto the sand, shrieking. He truly thought she was dead.
Nyrica doesn’t look up from stitching Thalric.
“Ah, gods,” I choke out, hauling her tighter against me, running my hands frantically up and down her back, needing to feel her alive in my arms. “Ah, fuck, you’re alive. You’re here. I thought—” My voice breaks.
Her eyes are wild as she tries to breathe.
I force my frantic hands to slow, to soothe, rubbing her back in lingering circles. “You’re alright,” I whisper. “You’re alive. You’re alright.”
She starts to cough. It’s a deep, hacking, unnatural cough. A collapsed lung? Crushed ribs?
I pull her back to look at her?—
And she vomits black ash onto the sand.
My heart stutters in my chest.
"What the fuck?—"
“Kher’zenn,” she spits out, in between coughing fits, spitting another mouthful of ash.
Aruveth edges closer, hands raised like he’s trying not to startle her.
“The Elder defeated them,” he assures her. “We’re still hunting for the ones that broke through the lines, but none have been found alive for nearly an hour.”
She shakes her head weakly. I pull her tighter against my chest, forcing her to lean into me. I don't want her to see Caius’s body lying merely feet away. Not yet.
The healer is still sprawled in the mud a few feet off, frozen in place.
“Finish treating her,” I snarl. He scrambles upright and fumbles back to work, stitching with shaking hands.
“Coming,” Leina rasps, her voice faint, broken. “Another wave. More than the first.”
Then her head lolls back against me, her body sagging into unconsciousness.
Aruveth’s eyes widen as he looks back out over the ocean, at the sky that’s been pouring rain since the Elder ripped the heavens apart. There’s no sign of the Kher’zenn on the horizon.
“Do you think she’s right?” he asks, his voice low, as if speaking it aloud might summon them.
“She hasn’t been wrong yet.”
“We won’t survive another wave.”
“No.” My mind is already racing ahead, trying to figure out the how, the logistics. How to evacuate Leina and Vaeloria, both unconscious. How to move the wounded, how to move millions of civilians when the faravars and men are already drained to the marrow. How far can we run before we burn out completely? Where can we even go? Do we take the time to burn our dead?
