I turn in a haze of soul-cracking grief to see the Daemos Alpha towering in the open doorway, his shoulders almost touching the jamb on either side. His aura envelops me like a storm cloud, radiating something fierce and… almostprotective.
“What’s going on here?” he demands.
Igor repeats what he told me. I barely hear him, trying not to panic as the shadows pulse all around us, like something alive.
“I sent word to the castle immediately,” Igor says, “but clearly, the message never reached you. Someone sent back word you’d gone to the front.”
I shake my head, whether in denial or simply rejection of the moment, I don’t know.
I wasn’t here. She needed me, and I wasn’t here.
I’m distantly aware of Stark demanding details about my mother’s death, but I can’t focus on the exchange. All I can think about is her.
Did she suffer? Did she know they were killing her? Did she call out for help?
I hear myself make a terrible strangled sound.
If I’d been here… if I’d been closer…Helplessness and rage threaten to drown me.
The storm of grief inside me abruptly spirals into a single point of focus.
Killian.
Igor said he was helping with the funeral arrangements. Killian knows what’s happened. And he loves me.
Killian will know what to do.
The world rushes by me in strange fits and bursts as I rush out the door, mount Anassa wordlessly. She doesn’t need to communicate with me, just immediately starts back toward the castle. My overwhelming need, my sorrow, must be plain enough that she needs no explanation.
Shadows follow in my wake, dancing behind us.
I squeeze my eyes shut, melting into Anassa as she races through the streets, narrowly dodging residents as she runs. She uses one of the Bonded entrances at the side of the castle, bursting into the wide corridors and bringing me straight to his door.
Killian’s in his study. He rises immediately from his desk when I enter.
The way his expression falls when he sees me—I look away, unable to process his grief on top of my own.
“Meryn…” Killian says softly, “I’m so sorry. I received word about your mother yesterday?—”
“I wasn’t here.” The words rip out of me like a sob. “Every time, everyfucking timemy family needs my protection, I’m gone. It’s all my fault…”
Killian wraps a firm arm around my shoulders, guiding me to a small couch against the far wall.
“No,” he says with intensity. “Meryn, you can’t blame yourself. You know I’ve been visiting regularly, bringing foodand supplies. I saw her just last week. She seemed a little disoriented, but not in a bad place. You couldn’t have possibly known.Nobodycould have predicted this.”
I lean into the protective circle of his arms, desperate for that warmth.
Desperate to believe him that it isn’t all my fault.
That I’m not a complete failure, responsible for the death or abduction of everyone I love most in this world.
I taste salt on my lips and realize that tears are streaming down my face. Killian studies me, eyes sympathetic. With a jolt of irritation, I look away. I don’t want his sympathy, or anyone’s.
Not when I deserve to experience every bit of this pain.
Killian brings a hand up to my chin, wrenching my face back toward his. “Look at me, Meryn. This isn’t your fault. There was no way to predict that she’d have another episode. And from what I heard, it happened fast. There’s nothing you could have done about it, even if you were here in Sturmfrost.”
His voice is rough with emotion, his eyes bright, piercing into mine.
