Without her, my weeks are pure and utter torture. I’d rather be skinned by shadow-blades every night than lie awake and miss her.
Only that wretched dragon keeps me company. It cries all night and refuses to leave her place in bed. I stop trying to move it.
I feed it. I talk to it, like a fool, wondering aloud if she will ever forgive me. Surely she won’t abandon her dragon, will she?
“She’ll be back for us,” I tell it, but I don’t really believe my words. Her hurt was heavy. She can never trust me now. She can never ... she can never truly care about me again.
I deserve this.
The scar worsens. Every day I battle it, until my powers are drained. Astria tells me what I already know.
“One more breach. That’s all it’s going to take.”
One more breach, and they will take over this entire land. They’ll kill me. Everyone will be dead.
I knew it would come to this. Ichosethis.
It happens just days later. I’m in bed when I sit up, gasping, pain slicing me in half. The scar. It’s ripped, right down the center. A cut larger than ever before.
It’s the end. I know it.
I put on my armor, piece by piece. My imminent death should scare me, should enrage me ... but I have lived. For just a few months, Ilived. I knew true emotion.
I knew—
I knew her. And she knew me.
Everyone beyond these shores sees the bloodthirsty warrior, the villain, the enemy. But I don’t care.
I don’t care if no one else ever knew me, because she did. And to be known by her is enough.
I portal myself and the dragon into her room. I wrap the beast in shadows, so it doesn’t interrupt.
She senses me immediately. I expect the anger and annoyance, but not the relief. Not the happiness. “I told you I never wanted to see you again,” she says.
I try to smile. “I might have good news for you, then.”
She sees through my attempt at a joke immediately. Her face pales. Her anger dissipates. “What do you mean?”
I don’t answer. I just stride toward her until she’s in my arms, and then I look at her,look at her, taking in every detail.
“What’s wrong?” she demands.
Nothing. Everything.
“The scar has opened. In a place it never has before. A place previously deemed safe. There’s a village near it.”
What I don’t tell her is that this is the biggest opening yet. And I know ... I know it will kill me. I know it’s too much for even me to manage on my own. The sword would save us. It would save everything.
It’s either me and all my people and my lands ... or her.
I choose her.
It’s villainous. Monstrous. But I don’t care.
I choose her.
“Whatever happens to me, heart, I want you to know something.”
