Page 77 of Of Stars and Lightning
He stood and slammed his arm over the woman's chest so quickly that Sol blinked, and Cattya was against the table, food and silverware clattering to the ground. Everyone stepped back.
“I said careful.”
Sol leaned their way, but the horrid sound of bubbling goo made her stop cold. Her breath hitched in her throat as Felice toppled over onto the sea foam carpet. Lucas wailed, a scream of pain as he followed. From their mouths spilled yellow and white foam. They jerked and seized, clawed and screamed as the Savit took hold. In that moment, Sol didn’t see enemies or people in her way of success. She saw people who were dying a horrible death.
No one moved.
But Sol did.
Slowly, she made her way to them, then faster, as their consciousness began to fade. Savit wouldn’t be poisonous after digestion, but Sol was still careful to avoid the fluids as she knelt beside them.
“Please—” Felice croaked, reaching for her. Her baby-blue eyes welled with tears. “Please.”
“I’m sorry.” Sol clasped the woman’s hand and held it over her lap as she reached and placed her other hand on the man’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.
Jonah knelt beside her silently, giving her a small nod of support. Felice looked up at the ceiling, her tears streaming down her cheeks. Sol vaguely heard voices around her, but her attention was on those she held.
“In my hometown, we have a prayer we say,” Sol said softly, “when someone passes.”
For a second, Felice seemed to regain a glimmer of awareness as she looked at Sol. “Tell me.”
Gently, Sol recited the parting prayers she would watch at the Yavenharrow sermons, mostly from afar, with Leo as a shoulder to lean on when the atmosphere grew heavy.
As she spoke, Lucas’s breathing slowed and slowed until it came to a stop as she finished the broken prayer. When Sol looked down, Felice had also stilled, and a small sense of relief fluttered through her at the fact the woman at least looked peaceful.
Sol trembled slightly, suddenly feeling the heaviest weight on her shoulders. She could almost physically sense the girl from Yavenharrow slip away the moment she looked at Felice. Mourned her, even. Phil stood behind his brother, and though he couldn't see, his small face was solemn, too painfully aware of what happened.
The mourning for her leftover innocence transformed into anger as everything slammed into her all at once.
These people were here to die.
And byplacing herself in the Vows, it might all be in vain. All because she was too stubborn to marry someone she didn’t love, eager to defy a tradition she didn’t agree with.
Cas’s chastise replayed in her mind.
No.
Sol wouldn’t let his cynical ideas grab her. She was here with a purpose: to dissolve a tradition that was poison to not only Rimemere but all of the Southern continent.
“Princess…”
Sol wiped her face with her sleeve and turned to Jonah. Wordlessly, the living prospects filed out of the dining room, but Cattya stopped before her, her shirt wrinkled and hair unruly from Cas's threat.
She glared at Sol, but this time Sol glared right back. “Ask your questions, then,” Sol said.
Cattya looked from her to the bodies around her, then turned to Cas. The Prince of Eswin watched her with eyes like daggers, his fingers thrumming on the table.
“I believe I have my answers,” Cattya said, stepping over the bodies before stomping out of the room with the prospects following suit.
Sol was left with Jonah and Phil, and she assumed Cas, as she could see his Shadows around them. Stroking Felice’s hair, Sol whispered “This is wrong. People shouldn’t die because of me.”
“If not for you, it would’ve been for another Southern noble,” Jonah offered.
Sol shook her head. “It’s barbaric.”
“It’s our normal,” Phil said softly. “But it’s an honor to be fighting for you.”
Sol met the boy’s eyes. “How old are you, Phil?”
