Page 200 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Ezekiel—and eventually, Les—had brought him out of his own grief for one shining moment. The births of his four children proved how far he’d come from the man who’d sworn off the idea of having a family of his own. But now he faced a life where the consequences of Ezekiel’s actions would haunt him and his family for eternity.
There was no going back to the sunny days of the past.
He looked over at the letter he’d penned to Les before they’d left for McKenzie Square, where the executions would take place. Being the wife of the Kominder General dictated she must attend the horrid event. She hadn’t let go of a single tear, but Harlan saw her brokenness. Broken because she knew the truth; broken because she’d truly lost her brother years ago, and she would never have him back.
He'd hoped writing her a letter like their courting days would help ease the pain.
Dearest Les,
We’ll be back in your countryside soon.
H
It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage. He hastily folded it and gave it to a servant waiting just outside the study. The man was off as soon as Harlan gave his curt directions.
He looked outside once again. Zeke pulled Jove up one of the rocks, and they shouted something at Kase, who threw apinecone up at them. Not bad aim for a boy his age. He stomped off and sat beside Aurelia and Ana, who was now happily snuggled in her grandmother’s lap, listening to the book Aurelia read out loud.
What would he do if any one of his children discovered the truth? Would they hate him? Would they despise their uncle? Jove was old enough to remember him, and Zeke. But the only Ezekiel they’d ever known was the ghost of the man who dared to smile, who dared to dream of a better world.
Where had Harlan gone wrong? Had they always been hurtling toward this end? This broken family legacy?
Harlan picked up his discarded wine glass and flung it at the fireplace.
It shattered into a thousand pieces.
His headache spiked, and Harlan fell into his armchair, hand across his eyes.
He’d never escape this life of horror.
Chapter 39
HEROES OF FIRST EARTH
Niels
WHEN NIELS HAD FIRST WOKEN up, he’d thought he was back in Stoneset.
But then he’d remembered the attack. Fleeing those caverns with Hallie and not looking back. Leaving the others to the mercy of the Cerls.
There might not be a Stoneset left to go back to anymore.
Part of him felt guilty. Another felt frustrated, and a third—a small third—felt relieved. He felt guilty for leaving them in chaos, but his only thought had been to get Hallie out of there. Still, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help. Hallie had done far more than him, and it gnawed at him that he no longer needed to protect her. He was as useless as a creek flooding its banks during the rainy season.
The relief was something else entirely. No longer being trapped in the Stoneset caverns had allowed his mind to heal ina way it hadn’t been able to in the months after the Cerl attack. Being around the people he’d known his entire life had only made it more clear that he no longer had a family.
He wasn’t the only one who’d lost everyone. He knew that. But it was nice not to have constant reminders of his loss, even if the new caverns he found himself in were full of more war-torn refugees. This was different; these refugees, he could help. He no longer felt as if everyone was watching him with pity.
However, one could only go so long without seeing the sun without going stir-crazy, which was why the Yalven cavern had proven to be the perfect escape over the couple days since he’d woken. It was why he’d agreed to patrol duty in Stoneset.
He didn’t belong underground trapped like a rat. He needed fresh air.
The cavern was still clearly burrow-deep with the jagged, dripping stalactites, but the Yalvs had used their powers to transform it into a meadow of sorts. Whether or not it was an illusion, Niels didn’t care. Grass grew from the ground, and a worn pathway wound through the towering oaks. Wildflowers dotted the open spaces, and tents tucked themselves into crooks under trees. Children chased each other throughout, their laughter lightening the pall that hung in the air no matter where one went in the Catacombs.
It felt alive, and Niels no longer knew how much life he had left to live. He would use what he could of it and hope for another day.
He’d spent the previous afternoon helping several of the refugees prepare for their return to the surface. It was nice to feel useful, even with his limited capacity. He’d spent most of his time with a man who owned a woodworking shop. It was nice to be around someone who enjoyed the same hobby Niels did. It was something he hadn’t gotten to do much besides occasionally whittling around the fire after suppers in recent months.
The man’s apprentice had perished in the attack on Kyvena, and by the end of the night, he’d asked Niels if he’d like to stay on once everything was settled.
