The anger splinters, giving way to a crushing grief that floods through me, stealing the strength from my limbs. Rylan’s arms tighten around me, and with a shuddering breath, I let go. I let him take control, his power weaving into mine, guiding the thrashing water back to the river, calming its rage until it is once more a gentle, flowing current.
My knees buckle, and I collapse against him, my body shaking with sobs that tear through me, raw and relentless. He holds me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other around my waist, as the battlefield becomes a blur of faces and noise that I can no longercomprehend.
Rylan’s voice is a murmur in my ear, steady and grounding. “I’m here, Eira. I’ve got you. Let it go.”
And so I do. I let the rage consume me, burn me to ashes. I press my sobbing face into Rylan’s shoulder, the shape of him the only force holding my pieces together.
FORTY-SEVEN
Rylan
The corridor feelslike a hollow echo of itself in the aftermath of the battle, shadows stretching long across the stone walls. I step out of my room, gently closing the door behind me, hoping not to disturb her.
“How is she?” Mathis’s voice is low, but in the stillness of the castle, it sounds like a shout. He’s leaning against the wall nearby, and even in the dim light, the cuts and bruises on his face are shallow but numerous, blood streaking his armour. Exhaustion etches lines into his face—probably as many as it does mine.
I scrub a hand over my face and sigh, leaning against the closed door. “She’s asleep… for now. The past few hours haven’t been easy on her.” My gaze drifts back to the door, worry gnawing at me. Part of me feels like I should be in there, just in case she wakes up and finds me gone.But this is Eirabella,I remind myself. She’s stronger than even she knows.But what she’s endured tonight would leave even the most hardened of soldiers shaken.
Mathis’s expression tightens, and he gives a slight nod, an acknowledgment that words aren’t enough to capture what tonight has been, and for once, he doesn’t break the silence with some jest or offhand comment. “Listen,” he says after a moment, his voice rougher than normal, “we’ve managed to capture two men from the enemy forces. I’m having them held in the North Tower basement. We’ll start questioning them in a few minutes.” He pauses, his gaze flicking to the door. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” he murmurs after a moment, his voice quiet. “The way this all happened. The timing. They were more organised than we thought. They knew exactly where to strike, almost as if they’d planned it for weeks without so much as a whisper slipping through the cracks.”
He’s saying everything I’ve been thinking since he knocked on my door to tell me we were being attacked. “We’ve kept a close watch—how could this happen without so much as a murmur?”
Mathis shakes his head, glancing down the corridor with a scowl. “I don’t know. I’ve already sent word to Yosef to move to his next station, just in case he’ll pick up anything we missed. The timing feels off.” He pauses, as if considering something, then glances back at me, his eyes sharper. “Reports say that they heard shouts near the South Tower. Some of the men said they heard them calling out ‘Kyros Valen.’”
I stiffen. “And were there any sightings?” I ask.
Mathis shakes his head slowly. “Not that I’ve heard of.”
“Strange, don’t you think?” I murmur, half to myself. “They’re calling out his name… but no sightings?”
Mathis just shrugs, sagging against Eirabella’s door for a moment, the fatigue settling in his dropped shoulders. “Glad you made it out. And her, too.”
I let out a soft exhale. “Eirabella would’ve killed me if I hadn’t. And vice versa.” Just the thought that she might not have stills the breath in my lungs. “Glad to see your ugly mug around as well.”
He grins tiredly. “Gonna take more than a few cannons to take me down.” I gift him a smile in return, and then turn back to my room, not wanting to be too far from her in case she needs me.
“You might want in on the interrogation,” Mathis suggests behind me.
I hesitate, eyes still on the door. The worry in me sharpens as I picture her, curled up in my bed, so small and vulnerable that it makes my chest ache. After what she’s just been through, I’m reluctant to leave her side for an extended time.
“She’ll be asleep for a while yet,” Mathis adds, reading my mind, his voice quiet but steady.
He’s right. And they might not ask the right questions. Or ask the right…way.
“Okay. You go on ahead. Warm them up a bit,” I tell him, keeping my voice as even as I can. “Make sure they’re ready for me—I’ll be there soon.”
Mathis nods, and for a moment, his grip tightens on my arm in a way that almost feels like a hug. “You’re lucky to have each other.” He says it simply, not pushing, before he turns, heavy steps echoing down the stone hallway.
I let myself back into my room, settling into the armchair by the bed, watching her sleep. I do this far too often; the revelation is sobering. I almost laugh at the thought of how my first moments with her were spent watching over her as she’d passed out from using her magic. How I’d been watching her from across the town square, already utterly mesmerised by the simple but beautiful village girl. And when she’d fallen to the ground from using her magic I’d been there to catch her beforeshe’d even hit the ground. How timeshaven’tchanged. Even then I never, not even for a moment, had considered leaving that village without knowing that she would be okay. And now we’re here. With her in my bed, my heart in my fucking throat as I wonder if I’ve forever fucked up her life.
My heart clenches when nightmares flicker like malevolent shadows over her tear-stained face. Collecting the focus I’ll need for whatever’s coming in the interrogation, I press my fingers against my chest, feeling the smooth coolness of my Celestaris stone. Then, when I’m sure she’s resting peacefully, I press a soft kiss to her forehead, whisper a soft“rest well”and make my way toward the North Tower where Mathis and the prisoners are waiting.
I returnto my chambers sometime later, fresh blood drying on my armour, my head spinning from what I’ve heard. Mathis had been right to insist I be there: the captured men had revealed things that have only added to the weight pressing down on me. The shadows cling thick to the halls, as if they’ve soaked up the blood of the past day and are reluctant to let the darkness go.
When I reach my door, I’m eager to see her—to know she’s still there, safe, exactly where I left her. I open it, stepping inside as softly as possible, but then I stop cold.
The bed is empty. The covers lie scattered, her presence erased, as if she was never there to begin with. The room feels suddenly cavernous, hollowed out, and for a heartbeat, I can’t move, can’t breathe.
FORTY-EIGHT
