Deciding not to risk throwing up again, she turned to change, carefully selecting the ruffled black top her mother had chosen for her first day of senior year. She swallowed back the prick of tears and smoothed her hands over it.
Her movements were slow and sluggish while she finished dressing. She had to force her body to move, each step a challenge when all she wanted to do was collapse to the floor and weep until her heart gave out.
“Enough,” she growled to herself. She stomped back to the table and snatched a slice of buttered toast, tearing off a chunk. She chewed the bite that stuck to her dry mouth like glue and nearly gagged before forcing herself to swallow it. Once she’d made herself consume two slices of toast that absorbed the coffee, her stomach felt weighted, but full. It was enough for now.
A knock sounded on her door, and she didn’t need to look up to know it was Blaze. He opened the door and walked in. She lifted her gaze to meet his. He stared at her hard, and she desperately tried to take the strength he was offering.
“Are you ready?” he asked her. She nodded, then started toward him. He held up her winter coat, and she slid her arms in. Placing a hand on the middle of her back, he ushered her out into the corridor.
The manor was unnaturally silent. Christmas decorations were strung from nearly every surface, the colors bright and offensive to her eyes. There were lots of children that lived there, but not a single one ran through the halls, laughing as they normally did. Emma didn’t know why the place was so quiet, but she was grateful for it.
At the bottom of the staircase, a large tree stood proud in the corner. It was decorated with handmade ornaments and garlands of popcorn and cranberries.
She stopped, staring at it. Her chest felt hollow.“What day is it?” she whispered.
Blaze was silent for a long moment, staring up at the tree beside her. Grasping her arm, he gave her a light squeeze. “It’s Christmas eve.”
She nodded. She expected to feel something, but she was emptied of emotion, and she was almost certain she’d never be able to feel again. Tomorrow would be her first Christmas without her mother. The first of as many as Emma would live to see, though she doubted there would be another in her future.
Without another word, they walked out the mansion’s doors. The frigid winter air nipped at her nose, stabbing the insides of her lungs. The pain was welcome, because at least she could feel that.
Her heart began to pound at the sight before her.
In the center of the garden’s snow-dusted labyrinth, several chairs surrounded a dark wooden casket covered in vibrant flowers that Emma knew were magically grown. She halted, her breath hitching. The casket would contain her mother’s remains.
Horrific images filled her mind again. Her mother’s limp, bony, bloodied body being run through with spikes. Her form dangling morbidly from the rods. Blood pouring onto the white ground, staining it. Emma couldn’t stop her gaze from swiveling to the gate. Somehow the ground glittered white and pure, as if challenging her memory of what had occurred there. Her jaw clenched painfully, her teeth grinding together.
A pair of strong, warm hands cradled her face, gently turning her eyes from the spot, forcing them to Blaze’s face.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Where will she be buried?” she asked.
“I thought…since you loved the gardens so much…”
Emma nodded.“Thank you.”
Blaze pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.“Come,” he said. He led her by the hand to the front row. The temperature instantly warmed, no doubt the work of one of the Spellcasters. They passed faces she knew, and some she didn’t. One made Emma trip, and Blaze steadied her. There, sitting in the middle row, was her mother.
“Mom?” she gasped.
Strawberry-blond hair tied up in a perfect knot on top of her head, a slender face, and bright blue eyes that glittered with unshed tears.
Blue eyes. Not green.
It wasn’t her mother. But then who—?
Blaze hurried her forward, whispering words she didn’t quite hear. They took their seats and Emma fought the urge to turn and gawk at the woman sitting behind her.
Every chair was filled, and Emma wondered how many of these people actually knew her mother. Beside her sat Sergei. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He reached for her hand, taking it in his much larger one, and squeezed. Then he rose, shuffling to stand in front of the casket. He wore a clean black suit that looked slightly too big for him. It was creased with wrinkles that she imagined he just hadn’t bothered to use his magic to smooth. His tie was yellow, matching the roses that decorated her casket perfectly. Her mother’s favorite color.
Suddenly her eyes burned again, and her chest felt tight.
Sergei cleared his throat.“Thank you all for being here,” he said, his voice wavering. Then he cleared his throat again.
Emma pressed her eyes shut. Blaze’s warm hand clasped hers.
“Some of you knew Laura Duvall; others knew Nadia Ivankov. Whomever you had the pleasure of getting to know, she was a woman loved by all. I knew both,” Sergei continued, voice cracking.
A hot tear leaked out and spilled down Emma’s cheek, landing in her lap.
“I knew her from a young age…and I loved her more than I loved anyone else on this Earth.” Sergei’s voice broke into a whisper, and then he paused for several moments.
Emma looked up and met his brilliant blue eyes. They shined with a raw grief that she felt deep in her bones. A grief that made it hard to breathe. Hard to function. But they couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Her mother wouldn’t want them to. The two people who loved her most in this world had to find a way to carry on. Asmodeus wasn’t going to let them grieve. Her mother’s death was proof that any fragile peace they had kept was now obliterated.
“She loved me back,” Sergei said, his voice stronger.“But her daughter was her entire world. Nadia went to great lengths to protect her, because that’s who she was. To be loved by Laura Duvall, or Nadia Ivankov, is to be fiercely protected.”
The words tore the air from her lungs and fresh tears streamed down her face.
“And so.” Sergei took a deep breath.“Wherever her eternal resting place is, I imagine it filled with all the beauty she gave to this world.”
Tiny yellow petals from what Emma guessed were daisies floated down gently around them. Her lips quivered into a small smile. She wasn’t sure if Gertie or Sergei was doing it, but the gesture was beautiful. Their warm, enchanted enclosure was scented like a summer breeze. It smelled like her, and Emma couldn’t help but breathe it in deeply, letting her tears fall freely as Blaze squeezed her hand.
“Do you want to say anything?” he whispered, his breath tingling her ear. Emma’s head snapped to face him.
“Sure,” she said, voice strained. She stood and Sergei smiled gently at her. First she walked to the beautiful wooden casket, and placed her hand on the smooth surface. Sergei pressed a soft kiss to her temple before taking his seat.
Emma turned to face everyone, looking at the people seated there. Gertie, Constance, Gwyndoline, Emerelda, and a few other faces softened. Axel wasn’t among them, but she didn’t linger on that fact. The woman that had startled Emma had her head bowed, and her shoulders shook.
Emma offered those looking back at her as much of a smile as she could muster.“I know many of you didn’t get the chance to really know my mom, so I’ll tell you a little bit about her. I didn’t understand why she seemed so strict most of the time, and I could see she didn’t want to always tell me that I couldn’t stay the night at a friend’s house, or go to a birthday party or a school dance. But now…” She sucked in a deep, steadying breath, pushing back the next surge of threatening tears.“I suppose all moms just want to keep their kids safe, and she was no exception. She had a hard childhood herself, and she made a lot of sacrifices for me.” Her eyes found Sergei’s. “But I’m so thankful she had someone she could love in a different way. She needed that. And som
etimes she would come home with a smile that lasted for days or hum a tune, and I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, but it makes sense now. She did love me, but she loved you too. I wish she had introduced us herself, but I’m glad I got the chance to know you.”
She looked back to the small crowd and met the eyes of the woman who once again jarred Emma with her striking likeness to her mother.“My mother was the most beautiful woman. She was my best friend. We would watch movies and eat takeout on the weekends, and she always took me to get coffee or hot chocolate on my first day of school. We drank it by the gallon on other days too, which is probably why I have a caffeine addiction.” Several people chuckled. Emma glanced at Blaze, who stared at her with a mixture of awe and amusement. She swallowed hard before turning to brush the casket. “I’m going to miss you so much, Mom. There’s so much I wish I’d said—”
Her voice broke and she swallowed again. She raised her hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to her fingertips that she placed on the cherry wood. A tear slipped out, then another. Her lip trembled. She couldn’t control the tsunami of emotion rising within her. The dam was breaking, spilling over, and her frame shook.
“Lunch will be inside. Thank you all for coming,” Blaze said gruffly from behind her. Then his arms were around her, catching her just before the wave crashed over her once more.
Her ragged sobs stole through her. The sounds of her anguish were nearly inhuman, but Blaze held her through them. She clung to him, fighting for breath. Her mother was gone.
Forever.
Never again would she see her smiling face or hear her laugh. They’d never again go shopping together or load up on junk food. Her best friend was dead.
“Strong Emma,”Blaze whispered, rocking her back and forth. “Brave Emma. Your mother loved you so.”
The waves grew smaller, and Emma listened to his reassuring words.
“Go in peace. Your work is done,” Blaze said with a strength that shocked her into silence.“By the angel’s blood, be lifted to new life. May your wings be restored.”
Emma raised her head, her gaze meeting his. “That was beautiful.”
“It’s our death rite. We send off our fallen soldiers in hopes that they are honored in their afterlife.”
Her lips pulled up in an attempted smile. It was sweet of him to speak the sacred words of his people over her mother. She’d truly been a soldier her entire life. Fighting for safety, fighting for the life she wanted for herself and her daughter.
Wiping the drying tears from her face, Emma glanced over to the edge of the empty chairs where the peculiar woman stood. She cried silently into a square of white, embroidered cotton.
“Who is she?” Emma asked.
“Your aunt. I should have warned you first, I’m so sorry. I sent a jet for her while you slept.”
A chill unrelated to the cold brushed over her.“My mom’s… sister?”
Blaze nodded, still holding her tight. Emma pushed away from his chest then got to her feet, before striding toward the woman.
Her eyes that snapped up to Emma’s approach were truly a stunning shade of blue—so different than her mother’s seafoam green.
She stopped several feet from the woman, stunned by how similar they looked. There was a difference in height. While her mother was nearly six inches taller than Emma, the woman had only three or four inches on her.
“Hello,” the woman whispered in a heavy accent.
“I hear you’re my aunt,” Emma offered lamely.
She nodded with a small smile.“My name is Natalya.”A pale hand extended for Emma to shake.
She looked at it for a moment then threw her arms around Natalya. Her aunt poorly stifled a sob as they hugged. Whatever her mother’s reasons for cutting out her sister, Emma didn’t care. Natalya was the last remaining family she had.
“I knew you looked familiar,” someone said behind her aunt.
They broke apart to face Emerelda, who smiled with satisfaction.“You’re Natalya’s niece. We’re cousins.”
Emma glanced at her aunt, who pursed her lips. It was not the expression of friends.“Yes, she is,” her aunt said proudly.
Linking her arm with Emma’s, Natalya steered her around Emerelda—who looked like she had a great deal more to say— and they headed inside the manor.
Though Emma didn’t want to speak with anyone, see their sympathy, or hear their well-meaning but pointless condolences, she was glad when Breanna ambushed her, barreling into her and wrapping her in a tight hug.
“Emma, I’m so sorry. I heard about your mother,” Breanna said in a rush. Emma peered over Breanna’s shoulder, wondering where Isaac was. Her question was answered by Dominic standing several feet back, watching Breanna like she might shatter if Emma squeezed too hard, while holding the tiny bundle that was Isaac. It was almost amusing to see such a large, intimidating man so gently cradling the infant.
When Breanna released her, Emma couldn’t help but give a knowing smile. Breanna’s cheeks were stained red, and Emma gave the girl’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She was happy that Breanna had come so far from the terrified, broken girl that had been taken in only a few weeks ago.
Clearly Dominic had a healing effect with his gentle-giant ways.
Emma introduced Breanna to her aunt and in turn, introduced her aunt to the peacefully sleeping babe in Dominic’s arms.
For a while, Emma felt the pieces of her heart come together, held in place by the smiles and laughter of the friends she’d made and the woman who reminded her so much of the mother she’d lost. From her laugh to her love for coffee, it was somehow easier to pretend that her mother wasn’t really gone. And in a way, it allowed Emma to imagine what her mother would have sounded like with a Russian accent.
Sergei was able to smile too, not a full smile, but one that proved he was trying to be okay. Just like she was.
Before long, exhaustion closed in on her and she said her goodbyes, hugging Natalya once again. Her aunt agreed to stick around instead of flying back to Russia right away, and Emma looked forward to spending time with her.
Blaze swept Emma into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Every step he took felt like a knife digging into the cracks of her heart, prying them open further and further. She felt the weight of her grief settling into her bones yet again and she buried her face into Blaze’s warmth. It wasn’t her room he entered several minutes later. Too tired to take in the details, she vaguely registered that the bed he placed her in was his. Dark covers were draped over her, and Blaze’s warm body settled behind hers.
She rolled to face him, keeping her face pressed into his chest, letting his earthy scent fill her. Softly, she cried the last of her tears.
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” Blaze said against her forehead after what felt like an hour of silence.
She didn’t reply. She never understood why people apologized when someone died. There were no words to take away the pain of losing someone precious to you, and the words I’m sorry seemed to be a grossly inadequate thing to say.
As if he could read her thoughts he said,“I know that does nothing for your pain. I know it won’t bring your mum back, but I was in your shoes many years ago. When I say I’m sorry, what I mean is I know what it feels like to be so overwhelmed by grief that you feel unable to breathe. Everything aches and you feel as if you’re drowning. When I say I’m sorry, I mean I know that no amount of time will make it better, but I’ll do everything in my power to help you get through, until it gets easier. I can kiss you until you forget, or I can listen to stories of her, or you can rage at me and hit me until you’re so exhausted you collapse.”
Her throat tightened.
“I’m sorry is the shortest way of saying ‘Let me do whatever you need. Let me be whatever you need.’You will get through this, Emma. Turn your tears to rage and let’s stop the monster that took her from you. Help me stop this war before it starts, and end the vile beasts that put you both through hell.” His accent was thi
ck, and anger laced his tone.
Emma didn’t reply. Instead, she lifted her head and brought her dry lips against his. Her hand brushed the stubble on his jaw, and she kissed him. Softly at first. Then his arms wrapped around her, drawing her tightly to him, their bodies flush, deepening the kiss.
She didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel as she undid the buttons of his shirt before pushing it off his corded biceps. She wanted to lose herself in this. In him. For as long as possible.
Her shaking hands fumbled with the button of his jeans and he stilled.
“Emma,” he rasped.
“Please,” she whispered against the base of his throat.
He pressed his eyelids shut, taking in a deep breath. The sting of rejection had already begun to set in when his eyes opened again, the grey a rolling storm.
“It won’t make you feel better, Emma.”
Her eyes narrowed.“You said you’d kiss me until I forgot.”
He chuckled.“I think you were intending more than that.”
Emma bit her lip, her eyes burning, but there were no more tears to cry. Did she want this? Was she ready for this? She knew the answer almost instantly: she did want it. And she hoped one day it would be him. But masking her grief by throwing herself into a situation that would likely cause her more pain wouldn’t help.
So she sat up, looking away, and heaved a sigh.
Blaze sat up beside her, taking her hand in his.“I don’t want you to hate me for taking advantage of your grief.”
She shook her head, unable to speak.Tears somehow welled in her eyes, yet they didn’t fall. They burned, and her head ached. “You’re right,” she breathed.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You deserve the world, Emma. Dates, random flowers, and chocolates. You deserve to be courted. To be made certain of my affection for you. Ideally, I’d ask you to marry me. And only then, when you know without a shadow of a doubt that I would split this world in two just to see you happy, would I show you my love in such a tender way.”
The Throne of Broken Bones (Weapon of Fire and Ash Book 3) Page 22