Page 175 of Kissed By the Gods
It’s stale here like there are too many creatures competing for it and not enough to go around. I flutter my eyes, trying toremember. There’s something important living at the fringes of my memory. My head pounds. My bones ache.
A hand clenches on my wrist.
“Leina,” Ryot breathes out, and I turn toward his voice. A single match flares in the darkness, casting shadows against the walls as a lantern is lit. I burrow into Ryot’s chest, hands clenched in his tunic, eyes turned from the shadows. I push out with my mind, and I don’t feel Vaeloria anywhere. She’s not nearby. I jerk away from him, panicked.
“Vaeloria!”
Ryot grasps my upper arms, holding me at eye-level. “She’s fine,” he says. “Einarr took her over the Valespire Peaks with the other beasts when we evacuated. But the peaks are high,and Einarr couldn’t handle any extra weight, so I brought you through the mines, with the refugees.”
Valespire Peaks. Evacuation. Mines. Others.
The words run over and together in my mind, and my eyes dart around the enclosed space, the darkness and the stale air making more sense. The walls surrounding us are a pale rock, with veins of something black running at a diagonal. Adamas. Thick wooden beams prop up the ceiling, groaning now and then under the weight of the mountain above us.
We’re in the Mines of Faraengard. Levvi’s grave. Alden’s grave.
I shiver, and Ryot mistakes it for cold. He barks a low command, and someone shoves a shawl into his hands. He drapes it over my shoulders. So very gentle.
“Is she alright?” The voice comes from the man who brought the shawl—Aruveth.
I don’t answer. Instead, I turn in a full circle, studying the cavern. There are thousands of people I don’t recognize, and they’ve nothing with them but each other. They’re dressed in long, flowing robes but the brilliant colors are darkened by blood, dirt, and sand. Their eyes are wide with shock, hollowed out by grief.
Memories rush back in a flood.
I turn back to Ryot.
“The Elder? Nyrica? Thalric? Caius? Faelon?”
Ryot’s mouth thins to a grim line. He threads a comforting hand through my hair, but the gesture only makes the terror worse.
“Faelon and Nyrica flew with the injured. Thalric is injured, and he’s with Nyrica.” He stops, takes a deep breath. He struggles for words. “The Elder didn’t make it.”
My stomach drops. My soul already hurts, and there’s another name missing from his list.
“Caius?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch.
“I’m sorry, Leina. Caius is gone, too.”
I press a fist to my mouth, trying to smother a sob. But it leaks out anyway, and the sound is brittle. Ryot pulls me back against him. I can’t move. I can’t think.
They’re gone.It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real.
Someone is speaking—distant and muffled.
“I’m going to take her ahead while the others rest,” Ryot murmurs against my hair as he wraps his arms around me, but he’s not speaking to me.
My chest is tight, and I can’t tell if my legs are heavy from exhaustion or the strange numbness that’s spreading through me.
Suddenly, I’m being lifted. My body sways, but I don’t resist. It’s distant. I look down and see strong arms cradling me, the familiar warmth of Ryot against me, his heartbeat steady and calm. It contrasts with the storm silently raging inside me. I want to say something, to push him away, to scream, to fight, to do anything. But I can’t. I let my head fall against his chest, unable to summon the strength to hold myself upright. He’s carrying me with sure steps. Away from prying eyes, from the curious stares—but not from the grief.
Ryot’s arms tighten around me, as if he knows and he’s trying to shield me from the pain, but it’s inside me. There’s no escaping it.
Irielle. Levvi. Alden. Mother. Father. Caius. The Elder.
My fingers clench tighter in his tunic and a single, coherent thought breaks through the shadows of the grief?—
At least I have him.
It’s a selfish thought. It’s horrible, but I can’t stop thinking it.
