“Mating, as you know, is not an inherent vampire trait.” Margot’s calm, even tone stroked and soothed those aching parts of Emillie’s soul. “What you have with Luce…what Azriel has with Ariadne and Madan with Whelan…I cannot pretend to comprehend that connection. And there is one that is stronger than I know, even for those of you who have not yet gone through your respective deity’s ritual.”
There could be no arguing that. A thread held Emillie captive to Luce in a way she never knew possible. More than love or lust, it enraptured her before she even realized its presence.
“However,” Margot continued, laying a gentle hand on Emillie’s back and rubbing soft circles there, “I am aware of the toll love can have on one’s heart. It has been mere months since my husband’s death. He was not always a kind-hearted man, but after so many centuries together…”
A tense silence stretched between them, then the last Original vampire whispered, “I mean to say that I understand your pain. But know that there is fight still left in Luce. She has not given up on battling her way back to you so long as you do not give up on her.”
The very idea of abandoning Luce had Emillie lifting her head up from her partner’s paw to gape at Margot. “I would never.”
A small smile, filled with years of loss and grief, shone back at her. Margot tilted her head and searched Emillie’s face with those milky green eyes. “I know that, my dear. I see it in your heart.”
Such phrases always set Emillie on her back foot. One could not see the inner workings of her body, nor the waves of pain and hope that raged against one another. As such, she could not begin to understand how Margot could see what she claimed.
Guessing by the confusion on Emillie’s face, Margot’s smile grew, and she elaborated, “You have not moved from her side for anything. Your will alone rivals the gods.”
“I do not understand.” The words were like mud in her mind, moving slowly and not quite making sense.
Margot laughed quietly at that as she stood. “Never in all my years have I heard of a Caersan woman so overtly manipulate a Councilman to save an innocent man’s life, then flee from the Society, befriend strangers after teetering on the brink of death, and help raise an army for her sister to bring back and liberate the very kingdom she abandoned.”
Stunned, Emillie could not summon a response. Having her actions laid out in such a manner—as though she were someone of great importance—struck her in the gut. “You say that as though it is not a failure in the eyes of the Society.”
“And if I had saidherather thanshe?” Margot lifted her brows.
Of course, she was right. Had the same accomplishments been done by a man, no one would bat an eye. Not one Caersan would find it anything less than astonishing. Why, then, did she feel as though it were something of a shame for her?
Years of oppression. The oppression they now fought to dismantle.
“The strength of yourwillbrought you to this moment,” Margot explained. “And the strength of your will shall carry you through this hardship as well.”
With that, Margot turned and made her way back through the rows of cots. Patients continued to be brought in, though the frequency had slowed. The battle, Emillie could only guess, was coming to an end. At least, she prayed so to Keon.
Returning her attention to Luce, Emillie brushed the soft fur back on the lycan’s face and whispered, “Yes…we will get through this.Youwill make it through.”
No sooner did the words pass her lips than did Luce’s chest expand fully. Emillie’s heart stuttered, then almost burst from behind her ribs as those perfect golden eyes opened slowly. Glazed and unfocused, the twin suns burned with less brilliance than usual—but still…theyburned.
Emillie choked back a dry sob. “Luce?”
Pupils expanding at the sound of her voice, Luce’s gaze swung to Emillie. Seconds slipped by, each one bringing with it more fire to ignite the gold irises. A low rumble rolled from Luce’s chest despite the wince of pain that pulled back her wolven lips to expose those long, sharp teeth.
“Shh,” Emillie urged. “I am not leaving.”
Vivid determination shone back at her as Luce shifted her head, placing her long snout on Emillie’s hand. This was what Margot meant, for in that moment, she could see the love and fortitude in the lycan’s heart. The will to live.
And Emillie knew with certainty that all would be well.
Chapter 40
Arriving back at the camp, Madan dismounted Brutis, cradling Camilla’s body to his chest as he did so. The snowfall had eased back to a light flutter, but it didn’t stop the cold from creeping into his bones. Not when he was in charge of delivering the Caersan woman’s remains to her father, who had done everything in his limited scope of power to bring her home alive.
Razer landed beside him, where Azriel slid down the blue scales before turning back and holding out his hands to catch Ariadne. The dragon said nothing to him, but sent the feeling of sorrow through the vinculums. They all felt the same. This wasn’t their friend to claim, but the pain of her loss still echoed through them.
Landing lightly in the snow, Ariadne hurried over to Madan. After the events of the tower, she and Azriel had sent orders to have the soldiers of Valenul locked within the Hub, guarded by dhemons and dragons, until they could have meetings about thekingdom’s future. There had been no real moment for her to pause and grieve until then, and Madan forced himself to watch as she approached. Forced himself to witness her sorrow.
The quiet cry of anguish that Ariadne tried to stifle behind her hand splintered the already crumbling pieces of his heart. If it weren’t for Anthoria’s constant updates on Whelan’s well-being, he wouldn’t have the strength to stand and watch his sister as she clutched Camilla’s peaceful face and wailed.
After all they had done to return to Laeton and save Camilla Dodd, they’d failed in the end. While Azriel fought for Ariadne’s safety, her one constant had been to ensure the rescue of her friend. In that, they had all let her down.
Madan’s eyes burned as he blinked back the tears, forcing his awkward arms to continue holding her even as they began to burn from the burden. He looked to his brother, who stood a few paces back and watched with wide, silver-lined eyes as his wife swept back Camilla’s short, golden curls.
