Page 145 of The War of Wings
“No,” Ludovicus said. “Let me be your father, just this once.”
Cielle pressed Miles’ hand to her mouth, silently praying against his skin. It only took a few minutes before Miles’ face slowly paled, his lips going gray as beads of sweat broke out along his hairline. The tremors slowed in speed, their intensity waning as the bowl filled. Solise emptied it in the forest before bringing it back and letting it fill again.
“He’s going to die,” Cielle sobbed, staring down at his face. Miles’ eyes were heavy, his head slowly lolling back and forth, but he was looking at her.
“Almost,” Solise murmured, her eyes intent on the rising level of blood in the bowl. “Okay, Ludovicus.”
Without another word, Ludovicus extended his forearm toward Solise. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at his son. Solise produced another needle from the pocket of her cloak. He winced as she pushed it through his skin, and as soon as it was in place, she pulled the loose end of the tube from the bowl and attached it to the needle in Ludovicus’ arm.
“Keep your arm up,” Solise said quietly.
“Like this?” he asked, his arm hovering in the air.
“Yes.”
Part of Ludovicus settled in that moment. I could almost feel it in the air, a turbulent, whirring energy that slowed to a warm hum. The lines in his face didn’t seem so deep. There was no fear hardening his features, just a slight smile as his free hand stroked over Miles’ hair.
Miles’ color began to creep back in as Ludovicus’ paled. I stepped in to hold his arm up when he grew too weak to do it himself. “Thank you for everything,” I murmured to him, and though he didn’t answer, I knew he heard me. It wasn’t long before he was too weak to sit beside his son, and he slowly lowered himself to the ground, his free hand closed around Miles’ arm.
“Thank you, Ludovicus,” Cielle whispered, her eyes puffy.
“Vic,” he breathed, his voice so weak I almost didn’t hear him. Ludovicus would’ve been the name reserved for the Saints. And I’d been speaking it freely.
He went silent then, his eyes fluttering closed as his breathing began to slow. I wasn’t sure the exact moment he died. I was vaguely aware of Solise’s fingers reaching for his wrist, then carefully pulling the needle from his arm. Blood didn’t well from the wound the way it did when Solise removed the needle from Miles’.
“I’ll arrange for a stretcher to come fetch Miles,” Solise said quietly as she began to pack her things. “He may have a rough few days on the road from here to Araqina, but I think he’s going to be okay.”
Cielle crumpled against Miles’ shoulder, her palm on his cheek and her thumb stroking gently over it.
“I’m going to go,” I murmured, and Cielle didn’t look up as I entered the forest again, headed for the shore. I was thrilled my friend would live. But Marita’s words echoed back to me then, that I could feel two things. Right now, I felt the quiet warmth of relief and the overwhelming, crushing weight of grief.
Chapter 58
Petra
I’d healed the injured. The dead had been taken away to be prepared for burial. Camp had been set up far down the beach, away from the scene of the battle. I could see the glow of the campfires, smell the smoke on the breeze. The sounds of victory echoed down the shore, raucous laughter and drunken shouts and a fiddle somewhere in the mix. Though I knew among the merrymakers there were people tucked away in their tents, huddled beneath their blankets, mourning the loss of someone who’d been their everything in some way or another.
All that remained of today were patches of bloodstained sand and an incessant, empty pain in my chest. Malosym was dead. The Occulti were gone. The residual darkness left behind in Miles had been excised. The realm was safe. But every part of me still ached.
I walked through camp, a chorus of praises and cheers following me as I made my way between half-erected tents and newly dug firepits. The Daughter of Katia had prevailed. Blood of Old Creed. Savior of the Realm.
My skin crawled with every exclamation of glory.
It had cost countless lives. And at the end of the day, I was still the reason Malosym had been here in the Human Realm to begin with.
The crowns left behind by Katia and Rhedros sat in the sand in front of me. I’d debated sending them to be buried with their bodies, but they were the only pieces I had of them. I’d never known them. Not really, anyway. They hadn’t really known me, either, but they’d made an unthinkable choice — twice, now — to keep me safe. Because they loved me. And how lucky was I to have known a love like that?
It would be a long, long time before I was able to think about them without the weight of guilt pressing down on my soul.
I wasn’t sure what fate had befallen Ma. Solise told me, with tears in her eyes, that she’d somehow fallen victim to blood magic. I could see the Sanguilite’s Realm in my head, the shelves where Ma’s soul now rested among the others. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought, at the regret I felt at leaving things partially resolved. At how nasty I’d been to her over the years. I didn’t care how shitty she’d been. She didn’t deserve to spend eternity in that eerie cave.
And Cal…
A deep exhale left me as I cradled my face in my palms. His body had already been carted away by the time I got back to the beach. The goodbye I never got to say was lodged in my throat, clinging to my tongue. Words that would never be spoken.
“Queen Petra.”
I startled at the voice, my hand flying to my chest as King Laion emerged from the darkness, standing awkwardly beside where I sat in the sand.
