When I’d first been told of my right to the position, I’d been shocked, but a deep recognition stirred awake within me. A spark ignited at the purpose I’d lacked for so long.
I’d been broken, my heart existing in only shards. In the months since, though, that spark had been nurtured, raised to a roaring fire that forged those shards into a formidable strength. It wasn’t the future I’d ever envisioned for myself; I wasn’t the girl I’d once been. This was something new—something beautiful, learning to heal, striving to fight.
While this meager, battered group around the room may be all the continent was left with in this mission, I swore it would be enough.
“Looks like we’re following you into the unknown, Revered,” Mila chirped from her seat at the end of the table.
Beside her, a red-eyed Lyria smiled softly, fighting off a worry I shared. It was an effort to meet her chocolate eyes that reminded me so much of Tolek’s. She didn’t have to speak, only nodded to tell me she’d be with me.
“And so your hunt begins,” Cyph muttered, holding my necklace before me.
I wrapped my hand around the emblem. The heat burned through me, greeting my cursed blood like an old friend.
Epilogue
Ophelia
My lips trembledas I looked at Tolek Vincienzo lying in that bed. White sheets tucked around him, gore cleaned away, and bruises fading, but too still. Not his usual vibrant self, coaxing laughs out of me with a mere glance. Color was leached from his hollow cheeks, his lips set in a line.
Smirk, I wanted to yell. To drive one of those infuriatingly charming smiles from his lips that I loved so much, it was imprinted in my mind.
He’d been found beneath the rubble of the building he pushed me away from. Bones on the right side of his body shattered, lungs full of dust, bleeding internally—but still alive.
It had been days of meetings and burials and tears since the Battle of Damenal ended—and he had not woken. Though I’d spent each night at his bedside watching the moon rise through the high-arched windows lining the infirmary and listening to the steady beat of his heart that became my own lifeline, the hours were long. Every second was agonizing, waiting for his eyes to open.
“He’ll wake,” Esmond had assured me, the Bodymelder keeping a steady eye on Tol and the remaining patients in the infirmary.
They’d given Tol his own room, separating him from the conscious warriors who alternated between groaning and taunting each other at all hours of the day. I’d almost told them to move him. To place him with the others in hopes that their jeering would rouse him, but a piece of me had secretly wanted this privacy.
“How can you be sure?” I’d asked, tracing circles on the back of Tol’s hand lightly, almost too scared to touch him. The entire right side of his body had been spotted with dark purple bruises when they found him. They were stubborn to vanish, even with the aid of magic. Fresh scars wove through them.
I’d torn my eyes away from Tol and looked to the healer. He didn’t hide his flash of doubt quickly enough. My world tilted at the thought that I might actually lose Tol.
“The same way Vale consults the stars,” Esmond had finally explained. “The way you direct that spear like a limb. It’s my gift.”
I’d sighed but relented, and allowed Esmond to guide me into a chair where I could remain through the night. The extra legion of Bodymelders that arrived with the Seawatchers had stayed to assist in healing, but only Esmond, Lyria, and my brigade of closest friends came in this room.
Esmond had walked toward the door, leaving just me, Tol, and the moonlight casting on his still features.
“Talk to him,” the Bodymelder had advised right before he left. “Let him know you’re here.” The door snicked shut with a sound as hollow as my heart.
I did as he said.
I told Tol of everything that had happened after he shoved me aside, and how angry I was at him for doing it. I told him of the queen’s ritual and imagined his outrage over her spilling my blood, of the Seawatchers riding valiantly into Damenal and taking out the Engrossian and Mindshaper forces when we were on the verge of death.
“You would have loved it, Vincienzo. The arrows were soaring across the sky. You would have stolen a few for sure, maybe had a chance to learn to use them for once.” I’d stopped as a breath caught in my throat. “Once you’re better, we’ll learn together. Maybe take a trip to the Seawatchers’ Western Outposts to train. Then, I’ll beat you in an archery competition.”
I’d smiled at the thought of him beaming beside me, taunting remarks and suggestive looks.
That had been days ago.
Tol still hadn’t stirred.
I watched him from the doorway, tracking the rise and fall of his chest. Even from across the room, I could pick out his heartbeat as if it spoke to me.
Still here, it seemed to say. And I was almost furious with him for keeping me waiting, but at least he was alive. His heart still beat.
Fidgeting with my own leathers, straightening the journals I’d left at his bedside, I searched for anything he might want. There were more books than he’d need when he woke, but in case no one was here when his eyes opened, I wanted him to know he’d been thought of. Cyph had been polishing the Vincienzo dagger daily, leaving it on the table, and Lyria brought flowers. Next to me, she was here the most. Whenever I saw her, her eyes were red and guilty.
