Page 170 of Faeling
He was beginning to truly struggle when, high above, a familiar voice cried out, “They’re here!”
Vallek groaned in relief, flipping onto his back to see a waving green figure atop the harbor wall, backlit by dozens of torches. Mattias’s voice called down, “Grab hold!”
A coiling line slithered across the sky before falling down to slap the water near them. With the last of his strength, Vallek kicked to close the distance.
Ravenna reached out, grabbing the rope and pulling it towards them. Holding each other with one arm and the rope in the other, they secured it around their waists before Vallek put his foot through the noose at the bottom.
“Ready?” he asked.
She could only nod, her teeth chattering too hard for speech.
Vallek tugged the rope. “Ready!”
“Heave!”
They jerked through the water toward the wall.
“Heave!”
They slid up the smooth stone until Vallek got his free leg up against it, pushing to give them a little room.
“Heave!”
Up they went, heave by heave, water sluicing off them back to the sea. Higher and higher they were pulled, their feet skimming the white stone.
Then, with a final heave, a green hand reached down to take his.
Vallek clasped forearms with Mattias, and then there were many arms, grabbing him and then Ravenna by the shoulders, bearing them up onto the wall.
At the sight of their king and queen, the dozens of orcs along the wall cast aside the rope and let out a resounding cheer.
Mattias clapped his shoulder. “You are a sight for weary eyes, my king.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Vallek nodded at his mate, being helped up by Asta. “See that the queen is tended to and fed,” he ordered before exhaustion finally dragged him into oblivion.
41
Ravenna awoke gradually to a delicious warmth against her back. Still half-asleep, she snuggled back into the warmth—and opened her legs to herazai’s seeking hand. A pleased purr rumbled against her cheek as Vallek leaned over her from behind.
Cracking open one eye, Ravenna found the world still dark and quiet. Their tent was cool and dim, and no noise emanated from outside. Although plenty of rooms were available throughout the palace and Fallorian itself, the orcs had chosen to make camp within the outer hypostyle hall and the crystal pavilion. Covered in dust and echoing with the abandoned lives once lived there, the room held an eerie quality.
Even Leita and Thalia chose to make camp near the orcs. The new Fae Queen refused to enter her predecessor’s apartments, not until everything had been cleared away and destroyed.
That work had already begun over the intervening three days, and Ravenna was content to stay out of it. Leita had Allarionand others to rely on now, and so Ravenna saw to much more important matters—the care of her mate.
Vallek slept for the better part of two days, only rising when they woke him to force broth down his throat. Ravenna worked with Fenna to care for his wounds, and as her own strength and magic returned with some rest and food, she used her magic to speed up the healing. The claw marks scoring his chest had already closed, four pink lines left behind. Though she couldn’t totally prevent scarring, Ravenna decided she could stomach them fading into silvery lines.
For now, she had to fortify herself for the sight of them. The marks of her own folly, carved into her mate’s skin. It wasn’t a lesson she’d soon forget.
There were only a few things that took her from his side, one of which she allowed only Oberon to join her in. With a bucket of warm water, a brush, and the strength of her back, Ravenna scraped and washed away the bloodstains in the blossoms pavilion. The stones didn’t want to give up their color, but with her magic and tears, Ravenna cleansed them.
Oberon stood guard, ensuring no one would see or disturb her. She needed to do this alone, to rid this place of the last vestiges of her parents’ pain. Ravenna had never had bodies to bury, and so this was their funeral, their last rites said by the daughter they’d died for.
It was there, her hands scrubbed raw and her cheeks hot with tears, that Ravenna finally said goodbye. That she was sorry. That she was wrong. In the rust-tinged water, she saw for herself the sacrifice Maxim and Aine had made. Their spilled blood wasn’t just sacrifice, though. Not just tragedy. It was love, a love so pure and strong, it defied a tyrant and her awesome power.
Ravenna had known but never truly appreciated the strength of that love. She cherished it now, held it close to her heart, alongside where she kept the bond with herazai. As she washed away the dark stains, she understood now what her father had tried to teach her—that they would live on, with her. That she was everything to them, all their hopes and dreams, and that she had been worth it. All the sacrifice, all the tragedy, every challenge and risk—it was all worth it, for her.
Such a gift was precious, and as Ravenna stood from the cleaned floor, she thought she understood now. Such a gift wasn’t to be squandered.
