“Ben and Asha . . .” she started, trailing off when a broken sob came from her chest. My heart broke, chest cracked in two, when I felt the grief, despair, and a healthy dose of guilt pouring down the Bond. I drowned in it for a moment, relishing in feeling her emotions so clearly and knowing it could have been torn asunder, silenced forever like Ben and Asha’s.
I grieved, too. For the loss of a friend, for the death of a good man and his wife. For the child they left behind, and the free world they’d never get to experience.
I let Faylinn feel it all before I slowly started to pull her out of it.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered against her trembling lips.
She gasped, spit and snot spraying onto my already ruined tunic.
“It is,” she wailed. “It is. They—they s-s-saw me, r-r-run and j-jumped in f-f-front of me. If n-not for m-me they’d be alive.”
I stroked her forehead and cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her grief, even as I firmly shook my head.
“No. Things happen, Faylinn. You didn’t force their hand. You never pushed them in front of you or asked them to protect you from Solace.Theychose that. They came here together knowing what could happen. They knew what was at stake if you died and chose to sacrifice themselves for you. Do not cheapen their deaths or try to steal their actions. Mourn them, grieve for them, wail and cry, but do not allow yourself to think that they died unwillingly. When this is all over and we are back home, we will celebrate them. Raise a glass for them in the mess hall and remember their sacrifice for you, for Elyria, for the child they so desperately love.”
Faylinn’s shoulders still shook with grief, but her eyes were starting to dry.
“Come. We will have our time to grieve. But our people need us,” I whispered into her hair. “And I need you to help me.”
I rose shakily to my feet, knees and joints popping and muscles protesting the movement, before I gently pulled Faylinn up beside me. Tucking her beneath my arm, I pulled her hard against my side, hand constantly rubbing soothing circles.
When I looked up from my Bonded, I saw what was left of Solace’s and Samyr’s forces gathered together. There weren’t many, maybe a couple hundred, but more than I expected.
More than us that survived, I thought balefully.
The man in front, a commander of some sort, immediately kneeled, pushing his face toward the ground.
“We give ourselves over to whatever punishment you think is deserving.” His sword rasped from his scabbard before he held it out to me with both palms. “We have seen the error in our ways and do not wish harm on our brethren any longer. I offer you my sword so you may take my life, and that of any others you deem as payment.”
I sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face and depositing more filth and grime.
“Already the politics start,”I grumbled down the Bond. Faylinn pushed comfort back at me, knowing we would have to make changes to my position and the power structure in Elyria once this was settled.
I didn’t believe a word that he said about his ‘brethren’ in Elyria, but I was exhausted beyond all measure, both physically and emotionally.
“I think there has been quite enough bloodshed for the next thousand years, don’t you, Commander?” I asked quietly. His grip faltered, blade nearly dropping. “Rise and sheath your sword. Take your men and return to Samyr. Find anddispose of your dead as you see fit. But know that we will call soon to negotiate peace, and I expect you to be cooperative, lest there be further consequences.”
Quickly, the bald commander stood and sheathed his sword with a curt nod.
“We thank you for your . . . generosity, King d’Alvey,” he said, flicking his fingers in a motion that sent a few dozen of his men in search of their dead.
With that, the group dispersed. Some climbed over the hills back toward home, and others looked for friends and family who died today. All with wide-eyed looks of shock.
“I don’t trust him,”Faylinn growled down the Bond. I shrugged.
“Me neither,” I responded out loud. “But I meant what I said. We have our own dead to find, funerals and grief to see to. The time for politics will come. For now, I think it’s best we fall into our own people.”
Faylinn squeezed my side, love and pride pouring down the Bond as we slowly picked our way through the dead and debris, looking for the place to start.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
Lex
“There,” the Bondsmith said, tightening a bandage around Folami’s arm as she inked a few runes of healing around the injury. She’d done the same to Ilyas minutes earlier, before checking me over for residual effects of the Air Whip. I’d tossed off her concern, more worried about my Bonds.
Besides, our injuries, while painful, were much tamer compared to what she and Faylinn had spent the better part of the evening repairing. Faylinn rested now in a bedroll at the top of the hill, Rohak lying beside her. She’d sleep for a few hours while the Bondsmith worked before switching positions.
It would be days before our injured were fully assessed and given care.
