Page 132 of The Nymph Prince
“Why are you here then?” I growled at him. “Why did you not help him?”
Reif’s eyes reflected his pain. “He ordered me not to.”
“And you obeyed him?” I barked. “Is he your prince?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“You should’ve—”
The weight that’d been on my chest pressed down even harder and my head spun. I nearly collapsed.
Malik caught me.
“Something’s…wrong,” I wheezed, clutching my chest. Tears stung my eyes as my heart cracked. “They’re hurting him!”
Sobs wracked my body. It felt like someone was digging sharp nails into my heart, squeezing and twisting it. My throat was on fire and a bitter taste filled my mouth. Then the pain moved to the rest of my body. Thousands of blades pierced my skin at once and dug deep before pulling back up.
“Lorcan?” Malik’s panicked face filled my vision. He turned his head and yelled to someone else, “How do I help him?”
Eva ran to my side and placed her hands on both of my cheeks. Her calming power didn’t work on me that time. For it was not me who needed calming; I was only feeling the effects of whatever Alek was suffering.
I continued to whimper and claw at my skin, trying to pull the blades free, even though they weren’t really there.
“It’s their bond. They can sense each other’s life force,” she said to Malik. Her eyes watered and her chin trembled. “Alek must be…”
Dead.
“No, no, no,” I cried, falling to my knees. If I would’ve acted sooner, I could’ve saved him. Instead, I’d stood in this field while he was killed. “I don’t feel his heartbeat anymore. Why can’t I feel his heartbeat?”
“I’m so sorry, Loo-loo.” Eva wrapped her arms around me, trying to calm me down.
I shoved her away from me. “No! I must feel this pain. Do not make me forget him!”
I’d felt him die, felt his soul leave his body. That must’ve been why it’d felt like blades digging into me. My soul was connected to Alek’s…so when he died, his soul had been ripped from mine.
I cried harder, not caring that my men saw me in such a weakened state. Never again would I feel Alek’s arms around me or hear his voice. Cold clawed inside my chest, relentless and spreading through the rest of me. There was no warmth to be had anymore; only a chill that refused to leave.
“Lorcan,” Malik said in a grief-stricken tone, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Do not let him die in vain, son. Take your pain and turn it into rage.”
Malik had lost his husband before. He knew grief and heartache. The loss of a soulmate was the worst kind of pain. My heart had not only been broken; it’d been torn from my chest and crushed into dust.
“I cannot,” I quietly cried.
I needed to pick myself up and win this battle—needed to kill the ones responsible for taking him from me—but I could barely even breathe. Every beating of my heart was a reminder that his would never beat again.
A battle cry filled the air.
“That fool,” Malik hissed, snapping his attention forward. “We haven’t a choice now. We must fight.”
King James had been instructed to await my signal. I should’ve known he’d go back on his word. His army advanced on Black Hallows from the right, moving as one large force toward the temple. Men roared as they readied their weapons and their shouts reached us in the field.
“Your orders, my prince,” Malik said.
Somehow, I managed to bury the crippling pain of my loss and stood to face my men. Alek wouldn’t want me to drown in my grief; he’d want me to be the leader he so often said I was and lead my men into battle.
“We fight,” I said, steeling myself against the onslaught of sorrow.
Take your pain and turn it into rage.
