Page 51 of Between Despair and Hope

I held my breath. That kind of power was truly amazing. Unheard of. I didn’t dare ask how the god had come to bless her. I knew what caused it. Knew it because I felt it through the bond. I didn’t want to make her tell me about Elora, not yet. Part of me didn’t want to hear it. I closed my eyes, attempting to dismiss the vision of our daughter covered in blood. The vision of Emma hunched over, crying and telling me it was my fault.

NotEmma.

Drawn from my thoughts at the sound of Dewalt’s shout, I glanced over, surprised I heard him. I couldn’t understand what he was shouting about, but saw his arms waving wildly, his face angry. It only took a glance at Nor’s nauseated expression and her hand clamped over her mouth to realize why. She had vomited straight down his back. I groaned in sympathy but couldn’t help it as a chuckle slipped out.

“Oh no, do you think it’s the flying? How are you doing? Do you feel sick?” Her concern made my chest tighten, and I closed my eyes, nuzzling closer to her. Mine. Not the shifter, not a dream. Real.

“I’m alright. Because of you.” I paused, holding her close. “It was dangerous to come for me, Em.”

“I made a mistake in waiting as long as I did. I thought—I didn’t want to risk your soldiers after the Cascade, after everything that happened. Shivani wouldn’t—I was trying to get her to get you back. But that fucking general…And she doesn’t trust me. At all.” She shivered, though I wasn’t sure it was from the cold.

“Do you want to land? We can try to rift from here to the Cascade. That’s where we’re going, right?” I asked. The sun had risen, and I realized with a start I should’ve been dead by now if Declan had his way.

She traced a gentle fingertip over the back of my hand wrapped around her, and I didn’t pull away, even though part of me still didn’t believe this was real. I was getting used to her again, aching to bridge the gap between us.

“This will be faster. You’ve felt the bond, right? It’s not whole.”

“I’ve been avoiding it, but I can tell it’s weaker. When did it…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish my sentence.

“Yesterday—the day before? I don’t know; it’s all a blur. That’s how I made the dragons. I couldn’t rift to the Cascade, and I—I couldn’t stop picturing you. Dead. And I tried to replace it with a good memory. Irses is made from the memory of you throwing me into the lake.”

“His eyes…I thought they were like mine.” I paused, pulling her close as I reached out to the bond between us to fully inspect it. One thread was torn, and another felt weak. I’d hoped the other two would have been strong enough to keep us connected, but at the same time, I’d spent the last few weeks thinking a gods damn shifter was my wife. No fucking wonder it broke. “It’s my fault. All of this was my fault.”

“No. Don’t do that. You’re here. I came for you. I fixed it. We fixed it,” she said. Strong and adamant, her voice didn’t waver through her clear exhaustion. I felt my own eyelids grow heavy. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept, the last time I was comfortable enough to sleep deeply. And, though I wasn’t remotely comfortable holding onto a dragon for my life, I grew tired as I pressed my face against her shoulder. Falling asleep was a death wish, but I could finally relax for the first time in weeks. I kept my eyes closed, my arm pinned between her waist and the dragon below us as she leaned flat against its back. I used my body to shield her from the wind, but it felt futile. I hadn’t shielded her from enough.

I hadn’t shielded her from the worst of it.

“Elora—” Her name hurt as I pushed it out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the loss all by yourself. I should never have left you.” The mention of our daughter, the sweet girl I’d never know, was an admission of guilt I’d never heal from.

“The loss? No, you shouldn’t have left me, Rain. But it will be alright.”

“How?” How could we possibly fix the hole left?

“She’ll wake up. I’m sure of it.”

My heart stopped, and I must have gasped because Emma froze before she turned her head slightly, threading her fingers through my own.

“Rain, Elora isn’t dead—well, she was. But I brought her back.”

“She’s—Elora isn’t—?” Every wish and hope taken away from me these six weeks was suddenly delivered back to me, right into my waiting, grasping palms. Was this real or just another trick?

“Elora is alive, Rain.”

Chapter 20

Elora

Myeyesadjustedpainfullyto the sun shining in through the curtained window. I was confused by the light pouring over my face in an unfamiliar way. I rubbed my eyes, squinting, before realizing where I was. Cyran’s room. I sucked in a breath, worried I’d crossed a line again. Each morning that I’d wake and find myself in his room, I would chastise myself for doing it.

Between thinking about what Papa had done to me, Mama lying to me, and remembering the way the mercenaries had taken me, it had been hard to fall asleep. Sometimes, I was angry at Mama for killing Papa, because what if he wanted to apologize to me and he never got the chance? Other times, I felt truly dreadful for not caring. It shocked me that Mama did it more than anything. I cried over the tainted memories I now held of him. A large part of me wondered if he ever was my father. After his accusations against Mama and how he said I was her daughter—not his—how could I not wonder? And Mama clearly had something to do with the Crown Prince’s broken engagement. It was all quite strange. Though, when I spoke to her in Cyran’s illusion, I wondered if maybe Papa was just upset and delirious. But when Ismene had suggested the Crown Prince might have been my father, I hadn’t been able to get it out of my head. Could he be? It was either him or Papa, unless there were more lovers Mama took I didn’t know about. I didn’t want to think about that though. But in the back of my mind, I wondered about what I thought I knew.

I’d been sobbing for hours when Cyran had opened my door, telling me to quiet down. I’d thrown a book at him before rolling over and trying to muffle my tears with my pillow. When he picked me up, I was surprised, having thought he left the room. He had grasped me with ease, despite his lean frame, and carried me across the hall to his suite. Gently placing me on his bed, he had pulled the blanket around me, reaching out to wipe away a tear. I’d frozen in place until he walked over to the dresser, twisting the key to a music box before settling in on the chaise. The whimsical tune played quietly, growing slower as the melody continued, and I finally calmed down.

Cyran had been tasked to take me for his brother, to give me to him, and he had kept me as a prisoner. He hadn’t been cruel though. He’d been cold at first, but he softened to me much faster than I to him. When he eventually explained how little he cared for Declan and how tied his hands were, I almost felt sorry for him. I didn’t think it excused him, but it helped me understand him. His silent and steady presence was a comfort.

The first morning I’d woken in his room, he had told me about his plan with Mama to protect me from Declan. I wasn’t sure what I’d done that made him care for me; I’d been nothing but mean to him. Yet, he was taking a risk all the same. Perhaps I was being vain thinking it had anything to do with me, but he’d never stood up to his brother before.

I’d fallen asleep in his bedchamber often after that, the melody of the music box keeping my thoughts at bay. He could have offered me the trinket to take back to my own room, and I could have asked him to borrow it. But neither of us did. He probably didn’t think about it, but I certainly did. Did he enjoy my company? I felt stupid for wanting to be around him, but perhaps if he felt the same way, it wasn’t so bad.

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