I haven’t even had a chance to get used to the idea of having a husband and now I have to come to terms with the fact that I lost him?
Pain comes crashing into me, but not necessarily for Victor. I’m taken back to another time. I see Petrov in front of me, three swords protruding from his torso as he gives me a weak smile.“I don’t suppose now is the best time to say that I want to start again,”he had whispered, blood dribbling down his chin as his arm carefully cradled his chest.
I let out an angry cry. It’s a hollow, feral sound, and it echoes through the wine cellar as I grip Victor and roll him off of me. He is a dead weight in my arms which are shaking so hard that they almost give out, he sags back into me.
When suddenly another pair of hands appears, grabbing Victor’s arms and helping to roll him off me.
“Gods, Victor, are you all right?” Estelle gasps from where she is kneeling next to us. She raises shaking hands to cover her face. She looks miraculously unharmed despite the glass shards that flew absolutely everywhere.
I sit up, turning my attention to Victor who is lying there with his head lolled to the side. Dark locks of his hair fall across his pale face. I reach out a hand, fearing what I’ll find when suddenly Victor’s eyes fly open.
I gasp and fall backwards as Victor groans and reaches up to shove his hair back. He glances between me and Estelle and frowns. “What are those looks for?”
“Victor!” Estelle says, smacking his arm. “We were sure you were hurt.”
Hurt? I was certain that he was dead.
It may have just been glass, but I know the power of sorcery and how quickly a person can take a regular object and make it become a deadly projectile.
By all accounts, Victorshouldbe dead unless this sorcerer is a fool who does not know his own craft. Somehow, I find that hard to believe. The sorcerer knew how to create his own weapons with the shards of glass only to fumble now?
Victor sits up, and he doesn’t even grimace. “As you can see. I’m not.”
I reach out a hand, resting it against his jacket. I run my hand up and down his back and when I pull it away, I see crimson.
Blood.
Victor’s deep brown eyes lock on my hand before they raise to me. “It was just a scratch.”
Before I can press further for the truth that this man is clearly withholding from me, the door bursts open and Victor’s father rushes in. It takes me a moment to realize that everyone else must have left the room in the panic of the flying glass because it’s only Victor, Estelle, and I here kneeling on the floor.
“Sweet Thyre’s merciful breath!” Sasha cries out as he takes in the room.
“We’re all fine, father,” Victor says reaching up to rub his head with a grimace. “Well, except for the priest.”
I glance over to the man in the orange robe, I’d forgotten about his unfortunate passing in the chaos. The wine rack hides his fallen form. Dark liquid leaks out from under it although I don’t know if that’s actually blood or wine.
“My wine supply certainly isn’t either,” Sasha says with a sniff.
“That’s a few thousand crowns down the drain,” Victor’s younger sister says stepping in behind her father.
Sasha quickly reaches back, grabbing his daughter and ushering her out of the room. I hear his voice echo back. “Not that it matters compared to human life.”
“It’s going to set us back months!” his daughter protests.
I glance at Victor who just smirks and shakes his head. “Sometimes I think she is better suited to inherit the inn thanme.” He pushes to his feet. Glass falls out of his coat as he moves. I eye it up, but the dark material hides any bloodstains. Still, I notice several tears in it that causes the fabric to gape slightly. Victor holds out his hands to Estelle and me and pulls us both to our feet.
I shake off the folds of my own tunic in case any extra glass got on me, but it seems as though Victor’s human shield kept me safe. Miraculously it kept him safe too, but he couldn’t have known that.
I reach out, smacking him in his stomach.
“Ow!” Victor cries in shock. “What was that for?”
“For you trying to sacrifice yourself for me. Don’t do that,” I snap at him.
In response, he holds up his hand, spinning the silver ring on his index finger with his thumb. “I’m your husband. I think I’m morally obligated to.” Victor gestures with his head toward the door. “But we can discuss this in more detail later. Right now, we need to figure out what to do about the sorcerer.”
“To do?” Estelle asks, her voice going high. She pulls her hands to her chest, twisting her fingers together nervously.
