Stumbling on my feet, I manage to get myself to the back of the bar.
My back to the wall, I lean my head against it and breathe.
I can’t get enough air into my lungs.
That image of the General hunched over the table, eyes on me, is burned bright into my mind.
I can’t escape it.
With an exhale, I brush a hand over my hair and push myself off the wall.
When the fresh air hits my lungs, I can finally breathe.
For the first time ever, an unfamiliar emotion weights on my chest—guilt.
It’s as heavy as pockets full of gold. And it carries a veil of dark misery.
I can’t rid myself of its stench.
Ezkai General, the most powerful fae in Ekios, is dead.
And it’s on me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PHOENIX
First Roman. Now the General.
Two funerals in a week. My personal record.
While Roman’s and the other fallen Ezkais’ funeral was small and intimate, a ceremony only for select few, the Ezkai General’s funeral is an event of a century.
It’s as if the whole country stopped the moment his heart did.
A heart attack.A godsdamned heart attack.
I still have a hard time believing it. That a man like Kitajo Hiromasa, the legendary Ezkai General, one of the most powerful fae Decarios in history, the man who always carried an aura of lightness and amusement around him, ended his life journey with a heart attack. When we last spoke, mere days ago, he looked healthy as a horse.
What an anticlimactic death for a soldier. And so sudden.
The Taaslord called us into an assembly at the castle late at night, three days ago. When Daegel and I arrived, and I saw that the whole House Dzuni was there too, I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t expect to hear that the General, the man I had put all my hopes into, had passed away.
They said a heart attack is rare amongst fae Decarios. Decarios in general. But he’d been under a lot of stress with the new law, facing House Dzuni, and negotiating with King Francis. All the responsibilities he carried on his shoulders led to this, to his heart finally giving out.
I don’t fucking buy it.
Of course, who am I to question it? Even Daegel doesn’t.
He accepted the news with quiet contempt, and when I expressed my doubts, he pressed a kiss to my temple and said, “I know you looked up to him, and it must be hard suffering through a second loss so soon after Roman, but entertaining conspiracy theories isn’t the most productive way to grieve.”
Of course I’m grieving. Not only for Roman, but also for the General.
Only when he passed away did I realize I looked up to him not only because of his offer to mentor me and to help me claim the blood debt I’m owed, but also because he was the last thread connecting me to my family, to my dad.
I thought I had time.
That once I’d proven myself to the General as his most loyal and determined mentee, I’d be able to ask questions. How long had they known each other? How well did they know each other?
