Page 7 of The Last Bell
“Do it! Punish her!” someone shouts, the call dying quickly as the iron control River has of the courtyard somehow clamps down on the hundreds of watching humans.
River raises a brow at me, his message gut-clenchingly clear.I don’t want to take this further than I must. But I will. Make no mistake.
Behind me, a growl that must be Coal’s sounds for a moment before River’s gaze silences the male with the same cutting efficiency with which he’d raked the courtyard. If Coal thinks the threat real, I’d be a fool to doubt it. My face heats, the humiliation rising inside me giving way to a fear that shakes my body.
“Yes,” I say, hurrying to speak before River—whose mouth is already opening—utters another word. “I lost control of my magic. Is that what you want so desperately to hear me say?”
“I want the truth,” says River.
“I lost my grip.” Ripping my gaze from River’s face, I survey the strained, silent faces, all watching and waiting. Giving me a chance to speak.
So I do. Ignoring River, I speak to the people who—unlike the male—have the right to demand an explanation. “As magic rushed into the mortal world, I saw Han readying to throw a knife into my mate’s heart. Into Tye’s heart.” A shudder runs through me at the memory. “In that moment, I thought about nothing but stopping him. I’d intended for the fire magic to strike Han alone, but the power got away from me.”
My chest tightens as I take in the soot and burns marring so many people’s skin, my voice wavering. When I speak again, my words are softer, though they still carry as they scrape at my soul. “That is an explanation, not an excuse. No matter the intention, my mistake hurt you—the very people I came here to protect. You are owed more than an apology, but you have it anyway.” I swallow, my pounding heart only now realizing how badly it aches to make amends. I brush my gaze over the crowd, not knowing what I’m seeking until I find it. Find the princess who’d once swallowed all her pride to kneel before me for the sake of her people.
Katita’s usually perfect blonde hair is in disarray, her beautiful blue-green eyes bloodshot and shadowed despite all the strength she pours into holding herself upright.
“I’m sorry I endangered your people,” I say to her alone, my skin so hot that the chill wind feels like shards of ice across my cheeks. “I submit to your judgment.”
Katita’s eyes widen slightly, surprise, intelligence, responsibility all flashing through her exhausted gaze. When she steps forward, her jaw is set so tightly that I can see the muscle tremble with the effort—but her voice is as regal and clear as ever.
“Leralynn of Slait, you started the arena fire,” the princess says, and though she is looking at me, her words are plainly meant for the hundreds of people gathered in the courtyard. “But I see now that this is all you did. The attack on the Great Hall, the actions of the Night Guard who hold my father and sister hostage, they are not your doing. I accept your apology with no reservation.”
For a moment, all I can do is stare at Katita, convinced I must have heard her wrong, that something degrading will surely follow—but it does not.
Standing a few paces away from the princess, River shifts his weight, his shoulders loosening the tiniest fraction—the equivalent of a sigh of relief for the male.
“Commander River.” Katita lifts her face to look over my shoulder. “On behalf of my people, I consider the arena fire behind us. As for the current crisis—and the news of your origins—I ask that you do as you offered and grant us some space as we decide how best to proceed.”
“Of course, Your Highness. We shall be in the library if you have need of us.” Turning, River bows to Katita before extending his hand down to help me rise, the callused palm open.
I ignore it. Rising to my feet, I busy myself with dusting off my knees just to avoid having to look at the males.
As River starts leading the males and me back to the library, plainly expecting me to follow like a well-trained dog, it’s all I can do to keep my stinging tears from spilling onto my cheeks. The small measure of borrowed dignity stretches hair thin as we pass by the shocked crowd to file into the library entrance, where the familiar bells greet our arrival—and finally snaps in half, along with the fragile hold I have on my feelings.
5
River
River swayed on his feet, setting his hand against the edge of a table to keep upright, barely registering the other males’ retreat to a far corner of the library. The sheer terror ripping through him since the moment he marked the mob closing on Leralynn was only now beginning to recede, leaving him shaking.Stars.The trigger on the humans’ violence had been featherlight—it was thanks to the stars’ own grace that Leralynn walked out of there with nothing bleeding but her pride.
Even though she hated him now.
River swallowed as he watched the girl turn her back to him and stare out the window. What remained of her strapless red dress hugged her curves, the smears of dirt and blood saturating the silky cloth with the same stubborn, unyielding grit that always coursed inside Lera’s veins. Her thick auburn hair hung loose past her shoulders, the thick braid she favored wearing on the left side somehow still intact and elegant.
River rubbed his chest. It still hurt to breathe, each inhalation sending a stab of pain through his ribs. Owalin’s knife had cut deep—but the self-inflicted wound struck deeper still. The memories that had been flooding his blood ever since he opened his eyes to find Shade’s yellow gaze and silver magic gripping him fiercely were enough to bring any male to his knees.
There was something else going on too. Shade had been beside himself when River had regained consciousness, the usually steadfast healer half-crazed at Leralynn’s absence from the library.Whatever happened to put the male in that state while River was unconscious, it would need to be dealt with.But not now. Now, River had plenty on his mind just working through everything he remembered.
He had been riding with the others, Leralynn cantering ahead on her mare. And then, then there was a grand explosion in his mind, and he’d forgotten Lera altogether, his soul bottling up his mate’s essence in the only way it could—an invented memory of a wife named Diana. Yes, River had tripped and lost himself—but his mate had picked up the quint’s standard and carried them all forward, no matter what obstacles life and magic and River himself had set in her path.
Now, with the return of his memories—and the monumental understanding of what Leralynn had accomplished to keep the quint and the Academy safe while the males remained under the amulets’ spell—River’s first instinct had been to fall to his knees beside her. To tell the female who’d given up everything of herself to protect the quint just how much he valued what she’d done. How much he loved her.
He’d forced her to her knees instead.
Yes, he’d done it to protect her. To control the narrative and separate Lera’s accidental fire from the Night Guard’s deliberate assault. To keep the mortals from trying to take their hatred for Owalin out on River’s mate. But he’d had to hurt her to do it, as he would have had to hurt any member of the quint. She’d set fire to an arena full of people—there wasn’t exactly a way to gloss over that.
Yet as much as River’s head knew all that, all his soul could see now was the single tear spilling onto Lera’s cheek, though her whole body trembled with the effort to keep herself together. Feigning strength that had been exhausted long ago as she’d single-handedly held the quint together, staying the course of their mission when River himself did not.
