Nothing feels steady as I stare at the blade of grass between my fingers. My breath comes out shaky. We were too late. Too damn late.
A storm of what-ifs crashes through me. What if they had come for us sooner instead of leaving us in that room for hours? What if we had just moved a little faster? What if they had believed instead of argued? Would it have changed anything? The questions circle in my mind, but the answers don’t matter. None of it matters. The what-ifs don’t change the truth. It’s done. They’re gone. The carnage. Gods, the carnage. Screams echo in my mind, and I’m sure it will be the background noise of my nightmares for years to come.
Like a curse, everything circles back to my loss. My family. No matter how many battles I fight, how many nights I survive, the memory stalks me. Watching Alaric press that final kiss to his daughter’s forehead didn’t just break me—it ripped open a wound that had yet heal. In an instant, I was back there, in that cursed dining room, helpless as my father’s face twisted in shock, as his skin hardened and gray crept over him, solidifying him before I could even scream.
That same suffocating loneliness clamps down now, heavy as chains, wrapping itself around my ribs until I can’t breathe. It clings to my skin like a second cloak—cold, smothering, impossible to shake. The laughter of others feels miles away. The sunlight feels cruel in its warmth, mocking me with a comfort I can’t claim. I would give anything to feel their arms around me again, to hear their voices fill a room, instead of being left with nothing but echoes and silence.
The sun hangs in the sky, golden and merciless and taunting, having risen faster than I ever imagined. To me, sunlight has always been a gift, a treasure I took for granted. I never thought of it as a weapon. Yet today, as I saw Alaric face it for the first time in six centuries, his skin blistering like it was being bathed in acid, I realized how easily I forget my blessings. He looked up with wonder, even as agony claimed him, and for a moment, the beauty of it stole his pain. That look will stay with me forever. Will haunt me forever.
I let the rays fall across my own skin now, knowing I should savor their warmth. But all I feel is the heavy knot of grief lodged in my stomach. The wind stirs, carrying loose bits of leaves and grass. The lake ripples and dances where the light kisses the water. I realize I’ve shredded the grass between my hands to pieces. My fingers won’t stop trembling.
A brush of movement behind me tenses my spine. I draw in a breath, ready for more sorrow. Then I hear myself whisper, “It’s okay, Minerva. Sometimes it’s okay to just be alone.”
But it isn’t Minerva. The breeze shifts, and the scent that hits me makes my chest tighten. Marcus. He lowers himself beside me, sunlight catching on the stubble of his jaw.
“If you’d rather I left—” he begins.
“No,” I say quickly, surprising myself. “Sit. Please.”
He plucks at a blade of grass, his fingers restless, destroying it like I did. The sadness radiates off him, but beneath it liessomething sharper. Frustration. Anger. A storm I recognize too well.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
How am I supposed to answer that? I shake my head. “How could I possibly be?”
His gaze flicks to me. “I know how you feel.”
The words take me off guard. I never imagined Marcus admitting something so vulnerable. We sit in silence, the air between us thick with everything unsaid, until he turns to face me fully.
“I don’t think I ever thought I’d have to witness something like that,” he murmurs. “Not once in my life. Never mind twice.”
He doesn’t have to explain. I know he’s talking about the dining room. About our families. The ghosts that drove us here.
He exhales hard, his jaw flexing. “You know, people think being a shifter is all power and freedom. And sometimes it is. But today… today I wondered if we’re the unlucky ones. Maybe the humans with their offices and school runs are freer than we’ll ever be. Maybe we’re the cursed ones.”
His words are too profound to answer with platitudes. I simply slip my hand into his, letting silence carry the weight.
Finally, I say, “A week ago, I would’ve argued with you, just for the sake of arguing.” A huff of humor slips out. “That’s half the fun of this marriage, isn’t it?”
His mouth twitches.
I sigh. “You’re right. I used to look at humans and secretly gloat, thinking their lives were dull compared to mine. Right now, I’d give up everything to have a mundane day.”
The shame of it burns me. To reduce everything Alaric gave up—his final sacrifice—to a handful of words feels like betrayal. My throat tightens. “Can you imagine what he had to do for his daughter?”
“Yes,” Marcus says simply, fiercely. “And I would do the same. In a heartbeat.”
The conviction in his voice hits me like a physical blow. He means it. I believe him. And the truth is, I would too. I’d trade myself for the lives lost that day. Because bearing the burden of staying behind feels heavier than any sacrifice ever could.
Marcus studies me, his voice rough. “Maybe that’s why the council wanted us together. To unite our families, to build peace. And yet the very thing they forced on us is the reason we’re the only ones left.”
The words aren’t new, but the way he says them drives straight through me. I have no reply, so I simply sit with it, my chest aching.
“She’s going to wake,” Marcus says softly, more to himself than to me. “Victoria. And nothing will ever be the same for her again.”
We’ve said more in the last hour than we ever have before. It’s freeing, hearing it, seeing this side of him. And yet, the one truth pressing against my ribs, begging to be spoken, is the one I can’t voice:I want you.
I stare at the grass in my hands and realize I’ve stopped shaking. That steadiness doesn’t come from me, but from him—his presence, his solidity, the quiet strength I crave.
