Page 76 of Between Fear and Favor

“What if we wait? What if our divinity comes back and we can heal him?” she questioned, and I pondered it for a brief moment, wishing desperately that I could find a way to give her that time.

Gently, with a vast amount of hatred for my duty as king, I explained why we couldn’t. “Together, we should have been able to do something, Em. Anything. But it felt like there wasn’t...like we couldn’t heal him.” I glanced at my soldiers. “But there are others who wecanheal.”

I inhaled, wishing her stubborn hope wasn’t still evident down the bond. But who would she be without that unstoppable optimism?

“It might be too late. Like with Sam,” I said, and at the mention of the boy we’d failed to save the night the tírrúil attacked our camp—before I’d confessed my enduring love for her, before Elora had been killed and brought back—she turned to stare at me. With a slightly parted mouth and heartbroken expression, I knew I’d obliterated her meager hope. I hated myself for it.

“I hadn’t been blessed then,” she said, weakly, turning to lie back down against Ryo.

“You’d been blessed by Aonara with your healing and Rhia with your harrowing when that happened, dear heart. But you saved so many others that night.” I couldn’t bring myself to draw the comparison any clearer. The more time we spent trying in vain to heal and restore Ryo, the less time we would have to heal our people who needed us.

I found that sometimes, when I had to make hard decisions like this, someone I loved needed to say it first. Someone I trusted needed to tell me I was doing the right thing. When I’d had to put dying soldiers out of their misery on the battlefield, Dewalt had always been there to provide me with the necessary reassurances. When Ven and my mother had forcefully guided my father to the eternal lands—if he’d even found a space waiting for him there—they’d had each other to hold accountable for their decision.

I could be that for Em.

Just as I was about to speak, Ryo whined, turning his head just enough to see her, his dimming eyes blinking at her slowly.

“Oh gods,” she cried, and her sobbing renewed. “I know,” she said, as she slid her arm beneath his neck. “I know.”

I tucked her hair behind her ear, not knowing exactly what had just passed between them, though I was certain their connection was far more complex than either of us knew.

When her tears slowed, and she reached her hand toward mine, her voice was surprisingly calm. “You’re right, but I don’t think I can be the one to do it.”

I lay down, folding my knees against the backs of hers and wrapping my arms around them both. Gently, I pressed my palm to the small dragon’s chest. As it was, his breaths had slowed even more, but his heart pounded frantically against his ribs. Em’s trembling hand slid over mine as I forced the dragon’s heart to slow.

I held them, wishing there was some other outcome. As Em’s soft cries shot an arrow straight to my heart, I did my best to stay strong for her.

“I’d come back to Crown Cottage that day. Late spring,” I said, wishing there was some way for me to recreate the memory and implant it in her mind.

“You knew we’d be at the meadow because it was warm,” she offered, sniffling, and she tightened her fingers around mine. I didn’t want to rush this, hoping to guide his heart gently still. I just wanted Ryo to drift off to sleep, knowing it would be easier on the two of them.

“Yes,” I said, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I wanted you to disarm me, you know.”

“Don’t start,” she said, giving a watery laugh.

“Really, Em. I wanted to lose. When we all rough-housed and acted like fools, it was the only time I could get close to you. How else was I supposed to flirt?”

“You managed just fine,” she said. “Besides, you had plenty of time?—”

“Once we started sneaking around.”

My smile was grim as Ryo’s heart slowed further. She would lose the memory any moment. And we’d both lose the painfully loyal, sweet dragon who’d only been trying to defend Irses.

“That cloak was rather ugly, anyway,” I said, defending my choice to tackle her. It had given me the opportunity to gift her something beautiful and personal—even if she didn’t know of it until recently. The sapphire cloak, complete with silver embroidery hand-chosen by her sister, had sat folded up in Lucia’s trunk for more than a decade. I wished we’d all been bold enough to speak freely back then. Things could have been different all those years ago.

Em laughed again, though she burrowed closer to Ryo. He’d begun to snore, and it was all I could wish for his final moments. I hoped he was dreaming about flying with Irses or chasing vultures as we’d once allowed him to do. Em breathed deep, distracting me from the pang of guilt and regret in my chest when I thought about how he’d been cooped up beneath the palace for his final weeks. Unable to fly freely, he’d been entombed—and now, he was dying.

I should have listened to her. Even if the dragons might have gotten hurt as I feared, it was wrong to keep them hidden away.

I couldn’t hold back my own grief any longer, and a tear slipped free. I had lifted my hand for just a moment to wipe it away, when Em let out the most heartrending whimper.

“He’s gone, Rain,” she whispered, squeezing him tightly. “He’s gone,” she sobbed.

It had taken so little. I’d only had to slow his heart a bit, just enough to help him fall asleep. Relaxed and calm, he was able to slip away to the eternal lands on his own.

She didn’t move, freely weeping against the poor creature. My own eyes continued to water, and I buried my head in her hair, against her neck, breathing her in. If there was any solace for something like this, we would find it together.

“I’m so sorry, Em.”

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