Page 75 of Vathia
NOW THAT THE ADRENALINE HAS worn off, the mourning of so many lives lost is really setting in. The sunrise is showing the true extent of the devastation. Aemon and Jesper have stuck close to me, their subtle touches keeping me grounded as we attempt to clean up the mess of obliterated tents and gather the dead. So many dead. My heart aches for the pointless amount of lives lost.
Killian is off helping the warriors with building pyres and Talyn… well, I haven’t seen him since he yelled at and then kissed me. Although Jesper did say that he was with his sister. Apparently, Dante whisked her away when the wraiths showed up and brought her back when it was safe. I’m grateful that everyone we care about made it through that battle.
I’m still not sure what we are going to do. Our numbers have significantly diminished. The morale of the remaining soldiers is almost non-existent now—I see how their joy and amazement turns back to fear and hopelessness as soon as I’ve passed them by. I can’t say I blame them. Cries of the wounded echo in my ears as I go through what’s left of the camp, doing whatever I can to help pitch in. The once loud and proud warriors are near silent as they work to clean up the devastation.
All I want to do is curl up with my males and rest, but I can’t. If I’m to be their Queen then I need to put on a brave face and at least pretend I know what I’m doing. That all hope isn’t lost, even though it feels like it is.
At least this confirms our suspicions that the Soul Stone is no longer underneath Phixmery, but that doesn’t explain how this has been going on for a year. How are the Lords using it without the blood of a Gallalaus fae? They must have kept one alive. If that’s true then we need to figure out where they are being kept and rescue them, then figure out what to do with theSoul Stone once and for all. It can never be used like this ever again.
I remember the stories my parents told me as a fledgling about how the fates had gifted the stone to the Gallalaus eons ago during a time of great peril when demons, with no sense of peace and living only for bloodshed, threatened to destroy the realm. The wraiths were meant for protection, not to be used against our own kind. But even so, the details of the stories are fogged with time. One thing I do remember is that the stone was supposedly lost to time. Apparently, that is no longer true.
My fingers dig into the dirt as I coax the blood-stained earth to grow trees, shaping them into huts to rest in for the night. Leaves bloom thickly to help keep the elements at bay. It’s not as extravagant as the tents but it’s better than leaving the troops unprotected.
Hands slide around my waist, pulling me up from my crouched position. “You should rest, Little Dream,” Aemon murmurs, kissing my forehead as he spins me to face him. “You’re worn out. You’ve used a lot of magick.”
“They need me. I’m fine. I’ll rest when the work is done. Working with little sleep and pain—emotional and physical—is nothing new to me. Let me do this,” I state firmly, meeting his eyes with hard resolve.
He searches my face, his normally white hair dirtied with the fight and ash. “They will understand that their Queen needs rest. You saved them. You saved all of us.”
“Not everyone,” I remind him grimly. “So many fae died tonight because of those creatures. It’s time to get off the defensive. We need more troops. We need to find where they are hiding that stone.”
His head dips slowly. “The fae we sent to search and watch the Lords made it out of camp before the attack. We will regroup in the morning—there’s not much we can do now. ButRavina, the fae lost tonight… There was nothing you could have done. Before you, there was no way to defeat those creatures. We heard the reports of razed villages with no survivors. You gave us hope that all isn’t lost. We can figure out a way to arm our soldiers. It may take awhile to gather enough shadow stone to make weapons—”
“What metalsmith will be able to do that en masse? The male who made my sword had to be talked into making mine.”
Aemon pulls me in close. “We can figure out the details after resting. Come on, Jesper is waiting for you.”
“Jesper?”
He sighs. “I need to report back to my mother. Jesper won’t admit it, but what happened tonight shook him. Shook all of us. Seeing you so close to death and us being unable to get near you… It’s not something I ever want to experience again.”
I squeeze his hand, remembering the helplessness as my body—as something—took over and brought Vasari and I to the middle of battle. I reach for my bond with each of my males. I may not be able to feel them like I can Aemon, but I know they are there. When I’m satisfied that they are relatively okay, I reach out to Nero and sense that he’s scavenging from enemy soldiers. He’ll be busy all day at this rate.
With a sigh, I lean into Aemon. “Fine. But only for a few hours. We have too much to do and I don’t want us caught unaware like that again.”
His relief crashes through the bond like a wave as he blinks us away, and I find myself in one of the few remaining tents. Aemon disappears into the shadows and I realize I’m not alone.
Jesper is staring at me with hungry eyes and I think I just became his meal.
AEMON IS GONE as swiftly as we appeared, leaving Jesp and I alone in the tent. We stare at each other for only a moment before he moves quicker than my brain can comprehend, engulfing me in his arms and burying his head in my disheveled hair.
“I swear to the fucking fates, Beastie—if youeverdo anything like that again, I will bend you over my knee and slap your ass until you can’t do anything without the reminder of your punishment. Or maybe I’ll get Talyn to do it when he pulls his head out of his ass.”
An exhausted, broken chuckle escapes. “I didn’t mean to scare you, or the others.”
He pulls back and cups my cheek, his calloused thumbs brushing back and forth slowly. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he mutters brokenly. “I can’t do that again. I spent twenty-one years thinking you were dead. I refuse to relive that pain. I will follow you into the aether, and I will fight the fates themselves to bring you back to us. I can’t live without you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with devastating emotion.
I’m unable to voice my words; I refuse to make promises I know I can’t keep. I kiss him. I kiss him and pour out every ounce of my feelings for him. For every minute that was taken from us. For every prank that didn’t happen, for every good and bad memory that we didn’t get to create.
“Mate me. Make me your mate, Jesper Verlice. Make me yours forever.”
The only noise in the room is a small inhale from his lips before they crash feverishly onto mine again. “I thought you’dnever ask,” he groans, cupping my ass and scooping me off the ground. “First we need to get this armor off you.”
I’m not sure how he does it but he manages to remove each piece with one hand as he carries me towards the cot. By the time we reach it, I’m only dressed in the leathers and Aemon’s tunic which I was sleeping in before everything happened. I know I should be mourning the dead and not giving into my pleasure, but I need to feel something other than the pain and numbness that comes from battle.
My fingers thread through his deep red locks, keeping him anchored close to me. The bond creates a sense of urgency between us like it knows what’s about to happen. Suddenly there’s nothing but Jesper, nothing but the firm, soothing grip of his hands as he strips me bare and holds me like I’m delicate. Like I’m precious to him.
“You are precious to me,” he mutters against my lips.
