The cold stones of the palace steps dig into my knees as I picture the destruction of both the giants and the elves.
The fucking elves.
Theymade this happen.Theysent the giants here.Theyare the reason my mate is gone.
Joso, the hunter, wraps another bandage around Lord Lothar’s bloody stomach. Liana the wise woman and I help situate the stained fabric, trying to clot the brutal stab wound Lothar received while trying to prevent Estela’s abduction.
“How many are dead?” I force myself to ask before they leave.
Joso pauses as he hands the rest of the cloth to Vann, my personal advisor. “My King, the warring crushed four houses, brutally murdered three hunters, and dispatched seven elders to Vidalena from either shock or a crude attempt to evacuate.”
“Who died?”
“Teo, now is not the time,” Vann interjects from behind me.
“Whodied?” I insist.
Joso takes a deep breath. “Ma’Flari, Ik’Cia, Kra’Noki, Lif’Suro, Suh’Yaryn, Me’Fyl, and Ti’Vhur.”
“Thank you,” I grit out as he picks up the council member. He gives me a nod before he sets off to the infirmary.
I stay there on the steps and force myself to see each face.
Two elderly women.
Five men.
From two hundred and ninety-one Enduares to two hundred and seventy-nine in the space of four months. Each precious soul that slides through my fingertips is a piece of my own being, torn from my insides and fed to the shadows that follow me from day to day.
Shadows that grow stronger while I crumble.
More features flash before me, of the men and women who remain. There aren’t enough Enduares—not by any stretch of the imagination—to go after my wife.
I seethe, letting the bitter, acidic rage pour through my mind and leak into my thoughts. Slowly—one drip at a time. Intentionally.
Coldhearted bastards.
My fists curl tighter, and the nubs of my fingernails dig into my palms.
Murderous, blood-soaked images flood through my mind. I see elven dwellings burned to the ground, bodies littering the brush—decorating their forests with grotesque vistas as their beloved rivers run red. I’d never warred with the elves, but one day…
Amidst the tumultuous revelations, it’s impossible not to reach out to my mate. The sacred bond nestled in my chest vibrates gently as my crystal wakes up. The mating mark on my neck starts to burn, almost tickling my throat.
My star?I say.
Silence rattles around in my skull. The absence of herresponse is felt in the chasm of my heart. I strain every sense for some sign of her. The only thing I have is the proof of the bond itself.
The threads connecting us together are unsevered and strong.
For that I should be grateful, I suppose. There are few other comforts, especially with the scalding realization that we cannot leave to go after her. Not with a half-broken city and dozens injured. We need allies, but we are alone.
My left eye clouds, and then my right, and then tears are scalding the rims of my eyes and clinging to my lashes.
I blink once.
Hot splashes of salty liquid spill across my cheeks just as a hand rests on my shoulder.
“Ma’Teo. Stand,” Mother Liana, one of the only remaining Fuegorra readers, says.
