Page 143 of Obsidian Throne

We were not going to end this way.

Theo tore off his coat to staunch the wound, and I turned away just long enough to glare at Arès, who was looking uncertainly at his men.

“You will not make a mockery of this,” I hissed at him. “Detain Iiro like we were supposed to do in the first damned place.”

Lightning crackled just outside the space where the window used to be, and I tried to rein in my fury, turning back to my husband.

“Don’t you dare die on me now, Evander,” I ordered, pleaded. “You’re going to be fine. The healer is coming, and everything is going to be all right.”

I repeated some rambling version of those words over and over again, though I didn’t know if he could hear me, if he believed me.

I didn’t even know if I believed me.

* * *

Evander still hadn’t woken up.

The healer said it was anyone’s guess as to whether he would, given the amount of blood he lost.

I refused to believe that, though.

Even though hours upon hours had passed.

Theo had sent a runner to Lochlann for me, to Gallagher, but I knew it wasn’t entirely reasonable, knew that it would take him weeks to get back.

I lay next to my husband, tracing the uncharacteristically pale lines of his face and talking about everything and nothing. Begging him to hold on, to come back to me.

But hours turned into days, and still, he didn’t stir.

* * *

A slew of faces came to check on Evander, including Arès, though he left quickly at my glare, making excuses to visit the rest of the injured.

Evander wasn’t the only one in a sickbed. Kirill had been reprimanded by the healers for leaving his to check on Evander. I had barely recognized him with his face hidden beneath a swath of bandages.

There were others, too. Others who had made it out of the battle with minor injuries, simple flesh wounds.

They would be able to heal and go home to their families, which was more than I could say for Andrei. He hadn’t even been given that much.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes as I remembered the first day he took a knee in front of me. The day he thanked me for giving him hope.

What did that hope mean now that he had died anyway?

When Theo came to tell me the dukes were discussing next steps with the monarchy, whether to disband it or set up a successor, I told him I didn’t care.

And I didn’t.

The only thing I cared about right now was lying lifeless in this bed.

The healers came to administer blood replenishing tonics, to check his wound for infection. They listened to his heart and felt for his pulse and told me a whole lot of nothing every time before they left.

A waiting game,they said.

Buthellfelt like a more accurate term.

* * *

On the third day, Evander’s eyelids fluttered.

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