She is as graceful as ever, jumping over crumbled pieces of the massive pillars that encircled the room only minutes ago, scrambling to reach what Malice is almost certain will be dead bodies.
It seems like the blast originated from the back wall, sending everything from the east side of the building inwards. The ceiling caved in as the walls crumbled under it. Only portions of the north and front facing westward wall remain, which is why they were spared with such few injuries. They had been in a bathroom in the north-west corner. By chance. By happenstance. Because Aerin was enraged with him.
If they had been in this room, they likely would be dead, or gravely injured, like the rest of the guests. Limbs of the guards who lined the back wall are littered around the room. There are too few sounds of pain. The few party goers who can move fromthe rubble are attempting to get to others, but with their injuries and the heavy weight of fallen marble, it is near impossible. A female in the corner wails as she holds half a Fae body in her lap.
Malice has to look away. Has to keep moving forward, towards Aerin. The ringing in his ears has barely cleared when he hears Aerin scream. Malice pushes himself faster to get to her. Tears stream down her face as she cries out. Anguish pours through the blood-bond.
When Malice finally reaches her, he sees what she sees: pieces of Esalin Tolvare, littering what used to be the space behind her chair. The Fae is hardly recognizable, her body ravaged, as if something had been shot through her.
Malice attempts to comfort Aerin, to turn her away, but Aerin rips from his arms. Her sadness turns to desperation in a second as she realizes the same thing Malice had in the bathroom. Esalin sat across from Bruin Tolvare. Two seats down from Khortland Hale.
If she, who had been facing the blast, but still across the table from it, looks like this, there is little hope for the others. Aerin very well could be the only heir to the Tolvare line. Her Paramyr could be dead somewhere under all this cement and marble.
All the more reason for Malice to get Aerin out of here. He grabs her arm, but she rips it from him again. Fury beholds him in those golden eyes.
“I amnotleaving without them,” she snarls.
Malice nods his head slowly, conceding to the wrath and desperation that lines her features.
“They must be here, under this stone,” Malice says, pointing to a large pile of rubble before them, where Aerin’s seat had once been.
Another wail pulls their attention.
Cisera Tolvare collapses where she stands, blood pouring from a head wound, but otherwise unscathed. Aerin goes toher living sister immediately, wrapping her arms around the inconsolable Fae. Cisera is clutching at pieces of the King’s body.
“Please Father, please,” Cisera sobs. Aerin holds her as she leans over her dead father’s chest.
Malice moves to them, but it’s Aerin that yanks her sister’s body up off the ground. The two Tolvare’s look each other in the eye from their places on their knees. Both of their blonde hair is matted with blood. Their golden dresses ripped. It’s like a mirror, but where Cisera is trembling, Aerin has hardened.
“What happened? How did this happen?” Cisera asks her younger sister. Aerin shakes her head.
The flames must be retreating, the heat around them becoming less oppressive by the moment. Malice hopes this means help has arrived. He now has two Tolvare heirs to protect.
“Where were you?” Aerin asks her sister.
Cisera stutters on the answer.
“I went to the kitchens, to check on the cake for Mother.” Cisera’s voice breaks as her eyes drift to her mother’s distorted body. Aerin directs her face back to her. “I was halfway there when it happened. I awoke against the wall.”
Cisera raises a shaking hand to her head wound. Aerin covers her sister’s hand with her own and closes the wound with golden threads of magic, the same kind that hold Malice’s wing.
They continue talking but the content of the conversation fades in importance when Malice hears thundering paws approaching. He turns, hoping it is help, but preparing for an enemy, he readies flames at his palms.
He doesn’t need to use them when a white Wolf, who shifts immediately into a raven-haired male, crashes into Malice. They stumble, but Malice keeps them upright with some effort as Emrys squeezes the shit out of him in a hug.
“Thank Gods,” Emrys murmurs, voice thick, though he’s quick to abandon Malice in favor of Aerin. Aerin doesn’t let the arrival of her bonded-mate impact her.
Malice catches the tail end of her speech to her sister. “Youare Queen now, Cisera. We have to protect you, we have to keep you safe,” Aerin tells her.
“But—”
“Iwill find the others.Iwill deal with this. We need to get you somewhere safe. We don’t know how this happened, or why. But I can’t lose someone else.” Aerin’s hand finds Emrys’s behind her without losing focus on her sister.
“Okay,” Cisera yields.
Aerin looks to Emrys. He spits out information immediately.
“Theo has taken charge outside. Mer are dousing the flames. As soon as it is safe, we’ll have guards inside. So far there is no other sign of threat, just the blast. Reyna is working triage. Where is Khortland?”
