“I’m fine,” she snapped, but she was far from fine. Derek had called their wedding stupid, he’d forgotten about her parents, and he cared more about his cases than her. They hadn’t been themselves, but there was still the hope it’d get better. Once he’d gotten a grip on his extra workload and slowed down on the drinking, they’d get back to the old them—they had to.He was still the Derek she’d taken midnight drives with and sneaked kisses with behind closed doors.
Viv leaned back, pressing her lips tight as Amaris threw her head back in a sigh. Viv’s hand found hers and squeezed.
A breeze jingled the chimes above Amaris’s head, attempting to pull the sweltering anger from her with its silver bells. Grandad had bought Gran a wind chime for each anniversary. When he’d died, Gran had tucked most of them away besides this one, their first wind chime. After Gran’s death, Amaris had kept it and hung it here to always feel their presence.
Her mind raced—the heat of the fire pressing in, their low air alarms mixing with the air horn blasts, and the angry fights about setting a wedding date.
A breeze bristled the leaves. She knew it was only the summer air, but she wanted it to be them. All four of them, watching over her.
Why is everything falling apart?She was a paramedic. Healing and fixing things was her job. Why couldn’t she mend what was falling apart between her and Derek? She prayed to the ghosts flying on the wind, hoping they would one day whisper back and answer her call.
Chapter 4
Theo
Blood was allTheo could see. It spread across his vision like paint on a canvas. He yanked his sword from the depths of his enemy’s chest, taking the light from his eyes. The body slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless.
The throne room of Oystein Castle in Mosfelkov appeared before him, sending his heart into a frenzy as he moved without a notion of remorse or regret. The torches along the bleak walls blazed, spreading heat through the chamber.
Theo marched through the line of Mosfelkov forces, stepping over eviscerated bodies. Something was breaking in his mind, ripping a deep hole in his cavity. As his sword swung as an extension of his arm, he knew he was not the one in control.
Sucked into the deep hollow of his mind, he watched as he ripped through the masses of enemy soldiers. Where each one of his own soldiers had fallen, two of theirs sprawled on the bloody stones at his feet. Anger and his quest for revenge riddled through his bones. A monster was born.
He was mindless and thoughtless with no regard for his preservationor theirs. He dodged a shining sword, slicing the back of a heel as his momentum spun him. Theo’s dagger found a throat before they had a chance to howl in pain.
His chest further tightened as he heaved himself up, grabbing a sword at his feet and lunging both blades into the belly of his next assailant. The intestines spilled as he swiped across his large abdomen. The soldier dropped to Theo’s feet, begging for mercy. He didn’t give it to him. No one deserved his mercy for what they’d done to him, his squad. They would pay with their own blood.
Theo’s hand pressed into a gray column, a color so consumed by the cold it appeared blue. He wiped the sweat lining his brow, but the red still tainted his view. He wiped again, but his vision was consumed with the bodies, the blood, the death. The atrocity would forever be etched into his mind.
Through pursed lips, he forced what little was left of him down and pressed through the throne room. His soldiers were gone. Theo knew it was his last stand, nothing else mattered. He would take as many of them with him as he could. It didn’t matter anymore that he’d been ripped from his home to serve in a war that wasn’t his or that, before the dawn broke, his body would be among the masses scattered at his feet.
He dragged his sword behind him through the lifeless chamber, catching against the uneven stones and carving a line in his wake. They would remember him, the soldier who held the line and killed their friends. He spat on the bloody floor, stewing over the disgrace, the betrayal.
His feet carried him to the final door. The looping brass handle was ice against the warm blood clinging to his hands. Only yesterday, he’d been knee-deep in a blistering snowstorm. Now, he stood in the heart of Oystein Castle, where everything went wrong.
His heart pounded profusely against his chest, trying to find a way to escape one last time. The blood swarmed in his ears and beat against the drum. It banged louder than he ever thought it could. With each breath, he inched the door open. The symphony in his head grew as the darknessbeyond stretched further from the light flowing behind him. His eyes beheld his last stance, and the breath caught in his chest. He held tight to his sword, angling the blade over his eyes, pushing down the last remnants of who he was.
Theo sat upright in his bed, gasping and reaching for his pounding heart. He swung the blanket off and pressed from the sweat-soaked sheets. He stumbled though the dark until his hand grasped the washroom door. Dropping to his knees against the wood, he began retching whatever resided in his stomach. The pain twisted into knots and cramped in his abdomen. He gripped the edge of the toilet and choked out the last of the bile.
He slumped against the sink cabinet, unable to close his eyes. He wanted to light a candle, to give himself more than the glow of the moon through the window, but he couldn’t bear to see if a red shine reflected in his sight.
He flushed the vomit and showered his face with water from the sink. He was thankful the inn was profitable enough to provide internal plumbing and the ability for him to retch not in a chamber pot or bucket. He hadn’t had a nightmare since they left Luana Bay days ago, which was odd since he’d had them every night after returning from the war. They flowed like the swiftness of the Eldercrest River. The few days of peace had given him hope he’d moved past them, but tonight’s horrors had come in a smashing and vivid replay.
Theo threw on whatever clothes were beside his bed and slipped on his boots. Nothing could force him back into that bed tonight. He might not have had the ivory beaches of Luana Bay to bring him solace, but he didn’t need the brush of the surf or the crash of a wave. He needed a miracle.
The streets of Duncaster were different at night, with the few candles within the streetlamps and the glow of the moon to his back. In the distance were the cheerful tunes of a tavern. How many of his companions resided within its stuffy walls, drinking ale in excess and living a life of complete bliss?
The road to Ateus’s temple was barren, as the noise of Duncaster turned to whispers on the Sunreign breeze. Theo pressed open the large marble doors to find empty pews before the statue of the God of Miracles. A bright smile flourished on the god’s face as his hands were displayed wide to offer gifts to his people. A pile of gold pieces sat in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. Theo bypassed the pews and fell to his knees before the god.
Soyenia worshipped only one god, while Mosfelkov destroyed what was left of their dying religion. Theo hadn’t been able to step inside a temple for years to offer his soul to his deities. He walked past the temple dozens of times in Luana Bay but couldn’t step inside its hallowed grounds and taint it with the blood he carried.
But tonight, he needed to. What happened in Oystein Castle haunted him, and there was no one who could give him peace. He dropped his forehead against Ateus’s feet and prayed. He didn’t dare speak aloud, but he repeated again and again in his head.Forgive me.
A creak pulled Theo from his stance, and his hand slid around his dagger.
“You don’t need that in here,” came a raspy voice. A short woman with a hunched back waddled from behind the statue. Her cane echoed off the coffered ceilings, and her small eyes narrowed as she gazed through the dimly lit temple.
“My apologies, High Priestess.” Theo bowed his head for the woman who seated herself in the first pew.
