Page 405 of Of Empires and Dust
Lyrei narrowed her gaze, staring into his eyes. She pulled away at first as he cupped her hands in his, but then she held them in place, wrapping her fingers around the sides of his hands.
“I miss Alea, and I miss Baldon and Rist, and every time I think of my mam…” He paused for a moment, trying to stop the tears so he could speak. “Every time I think of her, I just feel empty.”
Lyrei pulled a hand away and brushed the tears from his cheeks. “I miss them too.”
Dann looked into Lyrei’s golden eyes and remembered how awestruck he’d been the first time he’d seen them. He reached up, cautiously, and traced her cheekbone with his fingers, his pulse quickening when she didn’t pull away. “Without you…”
“You’d still be alive,” Lyrei said.
“But the world would be a lot darker.”
Lyrei smiled. “So much darker. My people, they have a name for what you are, Dann.”
“Arsehole?” Dann started to laugh at his joke but stopped when Lyrei didn’t join him.
“Ayar Elwyn.” A slight tremble ran through Lyrei’s lips as she spoke the words.
“I don’t speak elf,” Dann whispered, wiping tears away, smiling.
“One Heart,” she said, slapping his hand. “It is a word for when you realise you have found a soul whose heart is cracked in all the right ways that fit yours. They fill the gaps in you and you in them. They are the light that stops the world from going dark. Simply by being, they make you whole. It’s not a thing that is earned, it’s just something thatis. Though it’s not always easy to see. You have the purest heart of any soul I’ve ever known. You are gentle and kind and sweet, and still you are brave and strong, and you never let anyone suffer alone. You carry others, Dann.”
“Are you calling me a horse? Because Therin explained that too.”
“My Ayar Elwyn, whether I like it or not.” Tears rolled slowly down Lyrei’s cheeks, and she brushed her thumb through Dann’s hair.
Dann stared into those golden eyes. “Ayar Elwyn.”
Lyrei nodded and pressed her forehead to Dann’s. In that moment, Dann understood completely. He took Lyrei’s cheek in hand, lifted her head, and kissed her. His heartbeat slowed, andthe world grew less empty as Lyrei’s lips pressed against his and her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck.
“Commander Sureheart?”
Dann almost leapt from his skin, pulling away from Lyrei to see Nala standing in the house’s doorway. “Sweet fucking Varyn, Nala. I forgot you were even here.”
“I’ve been here all day,” Nala said with a face of disbelief, looking a little deflated.
Dann let out a long, exasperated sigh that quickly turned to a laugh as he pressed his forehead to Lyrei’s. “What is it, Nala?”
“Stew’s ready.” The squire all but pranced back inside to where her younger brother was helping Tharn with the stew.
Lyrei laughed, kissed Dann’s forehead, then stood and followed Nala inside. As Dann lifted himself from the step, he looked down to see Tom the weka with his beak in Dann’s cup of ale. “Get your filthy—you know what? Drink. With any luck, I’ll find you passed out in a ditch tomorrow. Then you’ll know what it feels like.”
Dann paused in the doorway, letting himself linger over the sight of Lyrei helping his father dish the stew into bowls while Nala placed a spoon in each. He pulled a long, sad breath into his lungs and whispered, “You would have loved her, Mam. I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time.”
Chapter 93
What We Built
25thDay of the Blood Moon
Achyron’s Keep – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
The morningbefore a battle always had a distinct feeling to it, a stillness. Experience had taught Aeson this. Every soul, whether they were polishing steel, honing blades, checking straps, or readying horses, every one of them knew they might never see another sunrise. Achyron prepared his halls and set his tables, while Heraya reached into hearts and readied them.
As Aeson, Verma, and Akraf walked through the camp that morning, that familiar feeling clung to everything he saw. About him, the soldiers of Arkalen sat in clusters and prayed to Neron to guide them through the coming storm, while those of Narvona whispered blessings to Akopa, asking that he find them worthy of a place in the Eversea should they sail the River Trian that night.
“Do you not pray, Aeson Virandr?” Akraf asked when he saw Aeson staring at a large group of Narvonan warriors kneeling before a priest in gold and blue robes. The last time Aeson had seen the man had been in the port at Milltown after their return from Valacia – after Farda and the imperials had burned their ships. Akraf was a prince consort now, and he had swapped his leathers and trousers for a full suit of burnished black steel ornamented with gold.
Verma gave a knowing laugh.
