But there had been a third bullet, and although the stair pressed uncomfortably into my back, I felt no pain. Not like that, anyway. But liquid seeped down my arms, into my dress. It was warm, it was...
"N...no..."
Galian hadn't moved. Hands shaking, I pushed myself up, and he slid off me onto my lap. With a heave, I turned him over, and my whole world slowed.
He stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as he took rasping breaths. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and I wiped it away with my thumb.
His gaze slid to me slowly, and a weak smile crossed his face. "Hey, beautiful."
I gasped, too shocked to form words, but terrified that if I didn't, I would regret it forever. "H-hey..." I closed my eyes and a tear fell down my face.
He pressed his thumb against my cheek to wipe it away. "None of that," he said. "You've gotta..."
"I can't," I whispered. "Not without you. Why did you do this?"
"Because," he coughed, and more blood bubbled from his lips, "I promised you I wasn't going to let you die."
He'd said that, long ago on our island. The very first day we'd met, and a few times after. But I'd always thought it an empty promise.
"N-no." This wasn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. I needed more time, I needed to tell him. "G-Galian, amichai, I think...I think I'm pregnant. You can't..."
The words died on my tongue as his hand fell away from my face.
He was gone.
The world sped up, and I heard conversations, yelling, screaming, arguing. But none of it mattered. Not when half my soul was gone.
Someone was pulling me away from my husband, but I just gripped that ridiculous military outfit harder. He didn't deserve to wear it to his death—he wasn't a soldier; he was a doctor. The best doctor there was. He'd put my needs ahead of his own, he'd...
"Theo, you have to let him go."
"N-no," I snarled, furiously shaking my head. I needed this to be a dream. This had to be a dream. He wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone...
We were supposed to have years of breakfasts and strategy. Of arguing over little things then making up a few minutes later. Of children... Oh my God, we were going to have a child together and he'd never know. He'd never get the chance to be the wonderful father Korina thought he'd be.
"Theo, let him go." A new voice, harsher, more direct. These hands were stronger as they pried my hands open. I lunged toward the body, but something kept me away from him. Something was always keeping us apart. Our egos, our prejudices, our countries, my duty to the mission. Now, death.
"No!"
This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It couldn't be happening like this.
We were supposed to win. We were supposed to figure out a way to be together, to stop the war, to end this treaty. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Wasn't that what I'd always believed? We wouldn't have gotten this far, just to be ripped apart.
So why was I holding the lifeless body of my husband?
I'd gotten a month with him. One month of pure bliss. That wasn't enough. Not for all we'd sacrificed.
Bayard's unseeing gaze stared back at me, and all I could think of in that moment was revenge.
"Who did this?" I whispered.
"Theo, we need to get you out of here." Kader was pulling me to stand. "It's not safe, there could be others—"
"I don't want to leave, I want to know who did this," I said, oddly calm. "Was it Bayard? Was it Grieg?"
"Anson."
I'd known it, but needed to hear him say it. He'd wanted me dead. "And where is he now?"
"Theo, we need to get you out—"
"Don't you dare," I snarled, finally pushing away and seeing him clearly. The front of his shirt was covered in blood, and although his face was pale, I knew none of it was his. The sight of it just made me angrier. "I want to see him."
"Theo, it's not safe—"
I laughed, a hoarse, barking sound that didn't even sound human. "What more could they do to me? They've killed Galian. There's nothing else...there's nothing more they can take from me that wouldn't be a blessing."
But I saw him, tied up and sitting on the floor of the pew, an unabashedly smug look on his face. He thought he'd won, and he might have. There was nothing to be gained by talking with him, but I needed to. I needed to understand why.
I pushed my way over to the center of the circle, none of the soldiers having the heart to keep me out.
"I need to know," I said. "I need to know why you did this."
He raised his gaze to mine, and I wanted to scream that he didn't have the right to even be in the same room, let alone look at me in the face. "You betrayed the country."
"How?"
"You allied yourself with the Kylaens."
There was something so simplistic about what he said, and so wrong.
Before even I knew what I was doing, I grabbed the nearest gun I could get my hands on and pointed it at him. "I should kill you right now," I snarled. "You son of a bitch, you took him from me."
Anson lifted his head, as if he expected me to shoot him. And I could do it. As Rhys had said, I'd killed hundreds with the guns on my plane. I wasn't without blood on my hands, and I could dirty them a little more. It would be so deliciously justified. Every inch of me wanted to blow Anson's brains out, or throw away the gun and choke the life out of him, watching his life slip away the same way I'd watched Galian's.
But I lowered the gun.
"All of this...because I'd had the gall to compromise," I said. "Because I sought help from those who would help us in return."
"They would never help—"
"Galian did," I whispered. "He saved my life. He's...he was," I swallowed the torrent of tears, "a good man. He wanted Rave to thrive and flourish. He helped people."
"He's one of them."
"He was a human being!" I screamed. "He was human, he bled, he cried, he laughed...he loved... He loved me, even though everything in this world told us we couldn't be together. He saved my life after I'd tried to take his, simply because I was a fellow human. He risked his neck and closed the prison at Mael. He was Kylaen, but he was good." I let out a sob. "And you killed him. For what? Because he and I looked past the history of his country so that mine could have a brighter future? Because I had the horrible misfortune to fall in love with the enemy, and with him, tried to stop the war through words and reason, instead of violence?"
"Violence is sometimes the only way to make change."
"But when does it stop, Anson? You killed Galian, I kill you, your loved ones come for me, we take revenge. An act of war requires a response, and around and around we go. What if we just stopped? What if we said...enough?"
"You'd forgive Kylae for fifty years of bloodshed?"
"For the sake of my country, for the sake of our future...yes, in a heartbeat. Because I love my country more than I love my own ego. Because sometimes it's better to make space in your heart for forgiveness in order to survive together than to wither and die alone." I stared at Grieg on the throne, his eyes still unseeing, unfocused. "In the end, there's nothing we take with us. No matter how much revenge we seek, or how much power we grab, all that's left is a lifeless..."
All that was left of my amichai.
"So maybe I am stupid for wanting peace with words instead of bullets. Maybe my ideas of good men came from a naïve princeling who did nothing except help people and love a kallistrate. Or maybe I'm just a stronger person than you are—maybe Galian is stronger than..."
Galian was no longer an "is." He was gone.
Grief washed over me in a tidal wave. I felt myself falling backward, consumed by my sadness and the gaping hole of anguish growing in my chest. But where I'd expected to fall on hard ground, I was caught. Disembodied arms encircled me, lifting me against a solid chest. And as those arms carried me out of the church, I left behind a piece of my shattered heart, right where my am
ichai had fallen.
EPILOGUE
Theo
Peace is never easy.
There were ceasefire agreements, territory negotiations, commerce clauses, humanitarian support to Rave, transfer of prisoners from both sides. But for the first time, both Rave and Kylae were willing to negotiate on an even footing. My impassioned speech had been broadcast live across the four nations, and the sight of a bride covered in her husband's blood talking about forgiveness had been enough to turn the tide of public opinion.
Helped, I'm sure, by Emilie Mondra's unique brand of media relations.
And for the first time, there were leaders on both sides willing to compromise. King Rhys was coronated within days of his father's death and was quick to sign an emergency ceasefire treaty with Rave, Herin, and Jervan, though the latter two required some not-so-insignificant groveling on his part. In Rave, Mark Cannon was appointed interim president until elections could be held. It took three years before my country was able to go to the polls, years fraught with starts and stops and protest and riots. But eventually, Rave held its first internationally monitored election, where the Raven people chose a kallistrate to lead them.
Not me. Wilona Kallistrate, one of Anson's deputies who'd been instrumental in rebuilding trust between the Raven people and its government during Cannon's term. At my strong urging, Anson had been sentenced to life in prison by a joint Kylaen and Raven jury, but the senior members of his operation had quickly distanced themselves from him, offering their loyalties to the new Raven president. Mark had welcomed them into his cabinet, even throwing his weight behind Kallistrate during her election bid and becoming an advisor as the country figured out how to survive without the constant threat of war.
Helping matters had been heavy investment from Jervan, Herin, and, of course, Kylae. Industry was nonexistent in Rave, but there was a need to rebuild cities, so King Rhys had offered incentives for two of the three largest building companies to move operations to Rave. The third company had filed for bankruptcy, as four of the top executives were convicted for the murder of David Martin. The major Raven cities were finally beginning to see some resurgence with improved utilities and buildings. Rumor had it that the country would receive television broadcasts within the next year, but I was skeptical. Income disparity was still at an all-time high, one of the main issues I was working to address.
Both Presidents Cannon and Kallistrate had asked me to serve as an ambassador from Rave, acting as their spokesperson and liaison to Kylae. I oversaw negotiations, making sure that both Rave and Kylae got a fair shake. In the spirit of true impartiality, I'd asked the Kylaens to build a large compound on our island, where I regularly welcomed visitors of all nationalities. It had been here, three years ago, that we'd finally signed the official peace treaty between Kylae and Rave. The photo of Rhys and me standing next to the memorial to the lives lost in the barethium lab was one of my favorites in my office, right next to Lanis' medals of heroism, which he'd given me upon his official retirement from the Raven military.
The compound was private and serene, but it carried with it the memories of what Galian and I had accomplished on the island. I, of course, had my own reminder of what we'd started here.
"Galian!" I bellowed to the small child currently hanging by his knees from a tree branch.
A high-pitched giggle was all that came down, instead of my son. Five years old and his father incarnate, Korina assured me with a sparkle in her eyes. I'd confirmed my pregnancy soon after the wedding, and it had been every bit the light in the darkness that followed. I'd fought to keep my progress private, but both countries were eager for the joy that a new life brought, especially one born out of such tragedy. Emilie, who'd taken a job as my media relations coordinator, had respected my wishes and kept the photographers away from my son. Over the years, she'd become one of my closest friends—even though we still disagreed on many things.
I plucked the squirming child out of the tree and set him right. He had his father's eyes and smile, along with his uncanny ability to test my patience. "Please don't hang like that, 'suuchai. You'll hurt yourself."
"Sorry, 'kaachai," he said, although there was little sincerity in it, for as soon as I'd released him, he barreled away from me, intent on bruising every piece of his body, as little boys did. Dr. Maitland had assured me my son had a hard head, but it didn't make it less painful to see him teary-eyed.
This time, his hard head ran straight into his father.
Galian looked down at his son, confused. "Hi to you, too."
"Hi, 'saichai," Little Galian said, and that was all the acknowledgement my amichai received before his son darted back inside the house.
"Please do something about your son," I said, folding my arms over my chest and glaring at my husband, who looked too innocent for his own good. "He's giving me gray hairs. You can't let him climb over whatever he wants. He's already had a concussion!"
"He's fine, he's fine. Let him be a kid," Galian said. "Olivia's pregnant anyway, so he'll be like...fifth in line or something like that."
I pursed my lips at him. "My concern for our son has nothing to do with whether or not your country has a king."
I had to give Olivia credit. Rhys had asked her four times to marry him, and she'd declined until he'd made what she considered a "proper effort." She and I were still learning each other, but I did admire her gumption. There was no small bit of relief, however, when she'd shared with us that she was pregnant. I hoped, for my son's sake, that there were a hundred children between him and the throne. I'd never been able to shake my old disdain for the Kylaen royal family, even though I was now a part of it.
Galian stalked toward me, a sly look on his face. "In any case, we have pressing things to discuss—"
"No, we don't. My offer is final."
My husband smiled devilishly and closed the distance between us. "We both know your offer isn't final."
"I'm not giving you five percent," I said. "Kylae doesn't need that trade agreement with Jervan. You've plenty of money and plenty of wheat. Eat your own."
Galian scowled at me. "There is no way Rhys is going to go for a one percent share of Jervan's wheat supply."
"You have your own fields. Rave doesn't have the soil for it."
He reached for his shirt, and I was already half to rolling my eyes. "But amichai..." He pointed to the gruesome scar still visible on his left chest. "I lost a lung for you."
I'd truly thought my amichai had died, but thanks to Dr. Maitland's quick actions, and no shortage of prayer on my part, he'd pulled through. After Little Galian arrived, and Cannon had asked me to step in as ambassador, Rhys had convinced his brother to sit on the opposite side of the table from me—although most days, I thought Rhys should probably consider appointing a better negotiator. Sad eyes and whining about an injury only went so far with me.
"You lost a third of one, and that stopped counting after I gave birth to your son."
"But my scar..." he tried again, before releasing his shirt and frowning. "Fine. Two percent. But that's as far as Rhys will budge, I promise you."
I considered his offer. I would've accepted three, but I wasn't going to tell him that. Instead I said, "One and a half."
"Done." He grinned at me. "As long as you give me something in return."
"I already gave you one and a half percent of Jervan's wheat. What more do you want?"
"Oh, lots of things," he said, threading his arm through mine. "Duck for dinner tonight. A glass of good wine. Another kid..."
I stopped midstride. "You can't be serious."
"Why not?" he said with a frown. "Little G is almost five."
But that wasn't the reason for my disbelief. Rather, it was that I'd found out a few days ago, the last time I'd been in Kylae. I'd been feeling a bit off and stopped in to see Maitland, who confirmed that I was a few weeks along. I cleared my throat and wore a smile I'd hoped would be enigmatic and daring.
But damned if my amichai didn't al
ready know, as he placed a hand over my stomach where the product of our love lay. "I hope it's a girl."
"Maitland told you, didn't he?"
"What? No. I just know you so well that—"
"You're such a terrible liar. But can we please wait a few months this time?" I asked, remembering my horror when Galian had used his first post-hospital news conference to announce proudly that I was pregnant. I hadn't even told his mother that I'd confirmed it. He claimed he'd been delirious on pain medicine, but I'd never believed him.
"Whatever you say, amichai. Now, how about we chat a little bit more about that wheat treaty, hm? Maybe you're feeling maternal, want to give us two percent?"
"One and a half, and a little girl. And that is my final offer."
ONE
Rhys
The melting ice shifted in my glass, rearranging as it turned to water. Oddly symbolic of how the past day had gone.
My father had declared war on two countries with the sort of egotistical glee only a despot could have. He'd then ordered me, the crown prince, my mother, the queen, and my brother and his wife to separate rooms to await a wedding none of us wanted any part of.
And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, a wayward rebel had put a bullet in my father's head.
And my brother's back.
When I closed my eyes, all I heard was the sound of my sister-in-law screaming, all I saw was her beautiful white wedding gown covered in my brother's blood. She'd become momentarily unhinged, and then delivered probably the most powerful speech I'd ever witnessed.
We'd all thought he was dead, but about an hour after he'd been taken away, one of my father's aides (well, I supposed she was mine now), had told me Gally was fighting to survive. His prognosis was grim, but our best physicians were on it. The last I'd heard from my mother was a few hours ago, and every time the phone rang, it filled me with dread.
I reached for my glass and took another drink.
It was the first moment I'd had to myself since this morning's tragedy. I'd been pulled into council meetings, strategy sessions. The governing of the country now rested on my shoulders, and it was up to me to make sure my country didn't pull itself apart. Kylae was already on the verge of disaster, thanks to my father, with half the country too scared to leave their houses and the other half itching to take over another continent.
The Complete Madion War Trilogy Page 69