“Sol.”
That sweet voice echoes, roars, with the pulse thundering in my ears.
Everly.
She moves from the center of the square, avoiding the fallen. Like everyone else, blood stains her clothing and mars her skin.
I run. Right toward her. Right toward that connection to Kassandra. We embrace as more sunlight lumbers over the square.
“I thought…” The words choke out of me. “I feared…”
She draws back and offers me a genuine smile—one of friendship and acceptance. “I know.”
I search for Gabriel next. Stubbornly, I refuse to search among the fallen. Instead, I concentrate on the warriors standing, breathing, living.
Near the building that hid me in her shadows, I spot Gabriel speaking to Luc. He catches my gaze the moment I step close, a look of relief flooding his features. He smiles, closes the space between us, and pulls me into his arms.
In front of everyone, I clutch his surcoat and pull him closer. He dives his fingers into my hair, lifts my face to his, and kisses me.
ChapterForty-Six
Gabriel is kissing me.Willingly.Passionately.
I meld against him, forgetting the people, the battle, the fears. All those things disappear like dew in the early morning sunlight. The only things left are the pressure of his mouth against mine, the pulse throbbing in my ears. My body touching his, his warmth soaking through my surcoat.
No, my blood soaking through my clothes. I stiffen as reality returns, and the throbbing returns with it.
Gabriel pulls away first and drops his stare to my torn surcoat. “You’re injured.”
I clutch the material against my side and offer a tight smile. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
With a gentleness he didn’t display while fighting, he takes my hand and leads us toward a fat olive tree. Its wide trunk provides protection as he yanks at the ribbons binding my surcoat. I wince as he eases the material over my head. Pain rips through my side as he moves my arm enough to observe the laceration through my ripped chemise.
“It looks worse than it is.”
“Oh,” I say through the throbbing.
“You cannot heal yourself, can you?” he asks.
“No.” I lick my dry lips. “No healer can. At least, not a Kyanite healer.”
“Here.” He grabs the hem of his surcoat, rips the material, and ties it around my body. “This will stop the flow of blood.”
I rest my forehead against his chest, needing this moment, needing him. After earlier, I require calm, peace, life.
“Sol,” he says after a moment. “I told you to stay hidden.”
“I know.”
He guides me to a grassy knoll at the foot of the olive tree. “I need to tend to my men. Then, I’ll return to you, and care for your wound.”
An empty sensation falls over me as he rises and walks away, disappearing into the sea of soldiers. They all wear the same surcoats. The same hissing serpent.
They’re all Bloodstone.
Yet, I cared if they lived or died earlier. I cared if Astarobane burned to the ground. Mostly, because I cared about the life I created here with Gabriel.
