I nod. “Rightly so.” I straighten. “I am sorry that we have not had enough time to speak in depth of your time here while I was gone.”
He waves me off. “There will be time once this all is finished.”
The solemnity twists my features downward. “But what if there isn’t?—”
“We will make it through. There will be time,” he says firmly. “Also, the artifact was removed from Estela and placed in the viewing room.”
“Thank you.” I think about going into the deep.
It had seemed simple, right on the scrolls. In the library, I could plan every aspect, as I did with the elves. But the magnitude of life sometimes cannot be contained to words on a page. It demands to be lived in every ugly, awful way.
Some of us will die when we kill Rholker. Several of us already have. It is a lot to ask for the promise of a healed future when we cannot guarantee that.
But hope is sometimes enough payment for great risk.
“I have been meaning to ask you about your tail. Were you injured?” he says, pointing to the bald tip. The one that was shaved.
I clear my throat as new images flood into my mind, then smile. “No. It was for Estela,” I say proudly. Even mentioning her name now reminds me that I wish to go to her and speak of my nightmare, but Vann’s face keeps me here for a few moments longer.
His brows furrow.
“What could she have possibly needed that for?” he asks seconds before his eyes widen.
I give him a look full of meaning. “Her pleasure is my commandment.”
He sputters. “What in the gods’ grey caves could the humans do with—” Vann abruptly cuts off and stiffens, and the song in my chest that swirls around me day and night, never truly leaving me alone in silence when she is in the city with me, starts up.
He bows and clears his throat as he sees Estela enter the room.
“My Queen. I was just leaving.” Estela nods at him, and he hurries away.
I look at the luminosity casting away shadows within the throne room.
My mate.The Daughter of the Light Weaver.
“Mi amor,?1” I say slowly. “I was about to come find you.”
She moves with an unsure grace and smiles. “Mi vida?2,” she murmurs as she glides into my arms. “What troubles you?”
I brush my fingers over her hair. “My father.”
She stills. “Did something happen?” I see the way her eyes harden, ready to fight every one of my demons. Her loyaltytouches me.
“No, just memories from the past. I dreamt of… the day my father wielded the volcano to destroy my home,” I say softly.
Her eyes study my face. “You can tell me all about it, if you’d like.”
Such kind words strike a chord in my chest. When I first woke up, I just wanted to unload every word upon her, to deal with my shame. It has been long since I have faced the reality of what I’d done—killing my father to save those who were left.
I worry what she will think of me. Would she compare me to him? Or, perhaps Rholker, the one who also killed his father to keep her captive?
She waits patiently, and the words she spoke to me after we arrived in Enduvida return.
I know what you are. I am safe with you.
I take her hand in mine. “Grief… addles the mind, I suppose. I have thought of the volcano and the endless days that came after so many times. But last night, I was forced to remember that it was I that ended the explosion. I pushed him into the lava. Ikilledhim.”
Her hand reaches up and cups my face. “Yousavedhundreds.”
