Someone knelt on her other side, but didn’t touch us.
“Don’t get what we want.” Lyria tried to smile. “It’s okay.”
I shook my head, my tears falling on her. It was wrong that she was comforting me right now. I should be holding her, telling her it wasn’t going to hurt anymore soon, but this was my big sister, and I suddenly felt like the smallest child, before I’d learned to look at her as competition. When all Lyria meant to me was guidance and safety and warmth.
Every memory vanished in that moment. And I was a young boy again, standing alone in a cold, empty house.
“It’s not okay!” I burst.
“A warrior’s death, Tol.”
One at the end of a blade, protecting our cause. It was an honor to most, and maybe I should think it was for Lyria, but centuries from now. Not at twenty-four-years old. Not after surviving her second war. Not like this.
“I knew,” she forced out. “The pleasure house. A Soulguider saw this happen. Hinted it was coming soon.”
Lyria knew her time was coming. It was why she’d been so shaken after the brothel. And she still walked into every battle tonight. Into the Gates of Angeldust, where she’d made sure I knew how she felt about her purpose, where she told me her goal of rescuing our siblings, so I could carry it on.
And into this battle, where she threw herself before Ophelia.
“Tell Mila—” A ragged breath. “Tell her she was the best friend I could have asked for. A sister.” Another pained inhale. “The reason I kept fighting.”
Mila. She was unconscious. She was going to wake to a world where her rock was taken from her.
Unfair. It was so fucking unfair. Out of all the horse shit we’d been thrown, this might be the worst piece of it all.
“I’ll tell her,” I whispered, voice cracked and ruined. “I promise.”
The seconds were closing in now. It was in her shallow breaths. The flowing blood. So much blood.
How the fuck was anyone still moving around us when Lyria wasn’t?
I had to…I had to say something. To make these final moments matter as much as all our recent ones had. But words…I couldn’t…for once, I didn’t have them.
“Ria, I’m sorry.” My voice was hollow, but I reached down into the depths of me, dragging up every last sentiment I might regret leaving unsaid. “I’m sorry for all the years we lost. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently, but I can’t, and now we’reout of time. But I’m so”—my voice broke—“so fucking proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Of everything you’ve overcome. You always thought you had to be perfect and couldn’t reach it, but the truth is, Ria, youareperfect. You’re the perfect sister to me and the perfect friend to everyone here. You’re the perfect you, and that’s all anyone ever needed you to be.”
“Tolek,” she whispered, so hoarse. So…dying. “You were the purpose, Tolek.” She fought for another breath. “Always were.”
“Please. Please don’t say goodbye, Ria. Don’t go.” My voice tore on that word. My sister was dying.
Dying.
Dying.
Her eyes flicked over my shoulder, to Ophelia kneeling beside me, the queen forgotten. “Take care of him. And finish this.”
Ophelia’s voice was barely a cracking whisper. “Forever, Lyria. Thank you.”
And then, in my arms, my sister said for the last time, “I love you, baby brother.”
My heart shredded, and I embedded the echo of those words into my memory, never to forget how her voice sounded saying them. “I love you.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
Malakai
The cavern seemed quieterwithout Lyria, but the battle didn’t stop. Not as Tolek sobbed over her body and they exchanged words. Not as Erista held her hand to guide her spirit to rest. Not as Ophelia ignored Ritalia’s echoing barbs and only had focus for Tolek, his head cradled to her chest.
The rest of us had only been still for a moment. One singular second in which that blade sank into Lyria’s heart.
