by Stock, L. J.
With each step, I reminded myself why I was putting myself through hell and fraying every nerve I had. I emphasized what was on the line if I didn't get to Damon first or if something happened to him. The burst of need and desperation spurred me forward again, forcing me to ignore the rough scratch of the bark on my palms as I weaved through a small gathering of fallen trees that blocked my path.
The billowing lights of the fire grew before me, and the light called to me in the most feral way. I grew careless the clearer it became and crashed forward clumsily as hope became more tenable. My steps fell heavily on the underbrush of the forest, and it was only when a branch snapped under my foot, the crack echoing through the tunnel of trees, that I realized I was making too much noise.
Freezing with my back against a tree, I waited for someone to respond to the sound.
When no one came, I continued on, stepping with more care until the palace appeared before me. It took everything in me not to cry out in relief. My battered and bark-worn hand covered my mouth, while I leaned against a tree, trying my best to regain my breath. Standing there, I watched the silhouettes of retreating forms littering the huge open area, while the forest green uniforms pushed back hard, fighting the stragglers in black from around the palace walls.
I mentally cheered them on, but the newest obstacle still posed a problem for me. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to get from where I was to the front doors, without being spotted by the retreating latros or our soldiers defending the palace. I looked down at my dark sweater and cursed under my breath. Would they distinguish me from the enemy? I was the only one in this dimension wearing jeans. I knew that much, but would they recognize me if I ran toward them?
It wasn't as though I had much choice if I was going to get there. Our troops had circled the base of the palace, effectively stopping anything, or more to the point, anyone from getting inside, and I was pretty sure those left inside had been “dealt” with. Even if I risked my life to get there, I was safer inside than I was out here, which technically meant I was following the guidelines set for me.
Glancing to the right, I noticed some of the retreating troops disappearing into the trees; then they moved to the left and I saw the emptiness. I was free and clear to go, as long as the latros at the back weren’t driven across my path diagonally. I had a fighting chance to get there and as it was, the longer I stayed and thought about it, the harder it was going to be to execute my plan at all.
Rocking back on my right leg, I pushed myself forward and took off as fast as my body would allow. I didn't look to the right to see if I'd been spotted. Instead, I gave myself tunnel vision and focused on the door that would allow me entrance into the palace, effectively ignoring the troops lining it and defending the stone walls.
The building grew ahead of me, the impending stone walls reaching higher and higher until it looked as grand as I always remembered it to be. The forms of the soldiers grew as well, and the closer I got, the more I noticed the men, shoulder to shoulder with aggression clear in their stances. I was almost halfway across when attention seemed to move to me, but no one eased off from the united attack until one uniform disconnected from the crowd and sprinted forward.
I recognized Rasmus immediately and changed my course, heading directly toward him as my heart pounded with more ferocity. His eyes flickered to my right, and I barely had time to look when there was a grunt. I didn’t bother looking at the body. I already knew what had happened and I knew what I would see. Instead, my eyes scanned the roof of the palace and found the archer amongst the chimneys, his bow still held out. Rasmus’ frustrated grunt was loud enough to hear when he met me halfway and turned to sprint beside me, ever vigilant about keeping his eyes open for more attackers.
“What the hell are you doing here, Cass?” He growled, shadowing every move I made toward the palace doors and keeping pace easily. His uniform, the same one that had been so clean and pressed at the accession ceremony, was no longer green. From what I could see in the dim light, it was smothered in a dark stain that faded in places, but covered most of his body.
“Not now, Ras,” I panted, the words forced through gasps of exhaustion.
“You were supposed to be safe at the farmhouse.”
“I have been.” I turned to look at him once, my right hand tugging at my sweater.
He chuffed and slowed, his hand circling the top of my arm to slow me down next to him.
“Go back there then. It's still not entirely safe here, and you need to be protected. Not to mention the fact that you really don't want to go in there right now.”
I glared over at him and shook his hand free before sprinting toward the door with more vigor. Rasmus was important to me and I was happier than I knew how to express at the fact that he was alive. However, I wasn't going to be deterred, and I wasn't going to be separated from my family again. Not knowing had been torture.
“Cass, please. Just listen to me.”
“I need to see Damon and my father,” I called out over my shoulder. “Where are they?”
“I don't know. I haven't seen them since the ballroom,” he said, sprinting beside me again as I closed in on the doors. “Best bet is his wing. It’s reinforced for a reason.”
I nodded and skidded inside as one of the guards at the front door pulled it open with a nod of recognition. The moment I was inside, I stumbled over my own feet as my eyes scanned the Great Hall.
“Oh God.”
“Cass–” Rasmus started, only to be cut off as I stepped forward and froze.
Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't what was spread out before me. The once Grand Hall was in ruins, the tapestries torn and frayed from swords and battles. Chunks had been taken from the stone, the scars evident in the fissures and cracks spider-webbing from them. If it had just been that, I think I would have stayed on my feet. Unfortunately, it was so much worse.
The huge rug that ran the length of the hall was dark with blood, the excess seeping from it to the stones surrounding it and staining them red. There were bodies littering the hall, the black uniform of the latros the most evident, but interspersed between them were tails and colorful dresses and the green of uniforms – forest for the Regius Custos, and an olive tone for the king's army. The carnage seemed endless.
There were so many bodies. There had been too many deaths.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I took a tentative step forward, my eyes stinging with unshed tears as I inadvertently scanned for faces I knew.
“Cass, there was nothing you could have done differently. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop this from happening.”
I wasn't quite sure I agreed with him, but the sentiment was appreciated. I took more steps into the hall and found a forest green uniform, face down with dark brown hair.
My first thought was Damon.
I could hear Rasmus' curse from behind me as I took off running, but I was gone before he could stop me, jumping over obstacles I couldn't mentally distinguish as bodies. My heart planted itself in my throat, blocking the scream that seemed to build behind it until all I felt was pain.
I fell to my knees beside the form, the mantra in my head selfishly asking it not to be Damon. Over and over the words turned in my head as I tried to convince myself that it was anybody but him. I sat there, my trembling hands frozen in front of me.
“It's not him,” Rasmus murmured behind me. “Cass, it's not Damon.”
He crouched beside me, his hand reaching out where mine couldn't. He pushed gently and respectfully, careful not to do more damage to them even though they couldn't feel it. My hands moved to my mouth when the face was revealed and my tears formed and fell quickly, the heated drops staining my cheeks as they descended. Rasmus was right. It wasn't Damon, but it didn't make the loss any less painful.
“Charon.” I wept his name as his head rested gently on my bent knees, his empty eyes staring at the ceiling.
The honorable and brave Charon had been one of my father’s guards
for a long time. He'd been one of my faux captors in the hostage training and had continually apologized for his actions that day. He laughed at my stupid jokes when Alec wasn't looking, and my father looked at him as a friend as well as a guard.
“Maybe you should go. You don't need to see this,” Rasmus pleaded, his hand on my shoulder. I knew he was trying to protect me from what was going on, from what I could potentially discover if I went on, but it wasn't going to end anytime soon. I'd realized that while I was sitting in the farmhouse. Things were going to get worse before they got better and I couldn't run every time things got dangerous. If that happened, this would never end, because I would never face off with public enemy number one.
“I can't, Ras,” I whispered, making the sign of respect on Charon's forehead with my fingers before sliding out from under him. “I can't run if we ever expect this to end. I won't have these people die for nothing. They fought because–”
“Cass?”
I looked up at the sound of my name and my heart rose as though it had grown wings. Damon – my Damon – was at the other end of the hall, standing amongst bodies, with his hands covered in blood while he stared at me in disbelief. I rose to my feet and took off before I had any conscious thought of moving. From the other end of the Great Hall, Damon started running toward me. The closer I got to him, the less the world around me existed. The only things that mattered were him and the fact that he was still alive. Every step I took brought me closer, my tears falling freely as I launched myself into his arms.
He caught me easily, his strong arms folding around me as my legs circled his waist. His hands cradled my head as he held me away from him, his beautiful hazel eyes checking every inch of me he could see for injury. Then, without warning, and without a care, his lips met mine. It was gentle at first, full of the fire and emotions that had crackled around us when we'd kissed before the ball.
It wasn't until I heard a gasp of shock that I realized what we'd just done. Damon's body stiffened against mine, a stuttered breath drawn with such force I felt the intake of it as it brushed against my lips. Then he pulled away slowly, the room around us coming into focus as he did.
Everyone had stopped what they'd been doing – people, soldiers, staff and guests standing in shock with their mouths open, but no one was looking at us. All of their eyes were on my father, the king – the imposing man who was stood at the entrance to his wing wearing an expression of half amusement and half shock shadowing his face.
“Dad, I–”
“Not here.” His tone was low, deep and utterly unreadable as he took one step back. “You two follow me.”
I slid down Damon's body, the sound of my feet hitting the ground almost thunderous in the ringing silence that lingered. I didn't regret anything. I would have reacted the same way if I'd been given the choice to do it all over again. I loved Damon, and I would have shouted it from the roof of the palace if I'd thought it would do any good, but it wouldn't, and it really hadn't been the place to do it.
I threaded my fingers with his and walked toward my father, towing him behind me as I moved. It was strange how accustomed I'd become to the knowledge that he was the one meant for me in the short time I'd had that information. Unfortunately, it was also why I couldn't understand Damon's fear. It was only as one of the guards gave him an odd look that I remembered why I’d risked it all to come back for him.
“Damon…”
“I'm sorry, Cass.”
“No. You don't have to be sorry–”
“I knew better, but seeing you alive and unharmed, I couldn't stop myself.”
“Me neither, but–”
“You could have died, been captured. They were everywhere. All that death… I needed to touch you, validate what I was seeing. I needed to feel you, to know–”
“Will you shut up?”
Damon's mouth opened and closed, his eyes darkening as he turned to me, and his brow furrowing as he caught my smile.
“This isn't a joke, Cass. We lost a lot of people. We don't even know how they got into the palace. They bypassed the guards at the door. Every defensive strategy we had–”
“Please don't lecture me, Damon. Not now, not about this. I'm more than aware of how serious this is. I watched them kill Penthea.”
“The two of you quarrel like a married couple,” my father said, stepping out of a room just ahead of us. He looked past me and smiled at Rasmus, who I'd only just realized had followed us. “Rasmus, keep everyone away from the door. If Alec pulls rank, you tell him the king is backing you up.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
My father stepped aside as Damon and I entered, our hands still entwined even though we'd been bickering. The click of the door closing made us both jump, but neither of us seemed willing to let go of the other, even as my dad’s eyes brushed over our joined hands.
“Dad, we shouldn't have–”
“Sit.”
“But, Dad–”
“Sit. Now!”
Damon sat immediately, his swallow loud as he pulled me down next to him. His fingers flexed but he didn't release mine. It was a silent request for me to comply with my father’s wishes. I understood the why – I knew that there was potential for this to go badly if my dad decided not to listen to what I had to say. The news I had was huge, and whether or not I got to speak first remained to be seen, but it would be heard; I was determined about that. However, I would have done anything for Damon, and I knew he needed me to be compliant, so I squeezed his fingers in silent agreement.
“It's been a long night and emotions are running wild. I can't say I'm not surprised, because I am. I saw the two of you become close, and I knew your history, but I never expected… this.”
“Sire–”
“Stand down, Damon. Let me get all this out.”
I almost heard Damon's jaw snap shut at my father's request. He sat up straight, his fingers gripping mine. I stared at my father, seeing what I knew Damon couldn't see. From getting to know him, I knew what disappointment, anger and disgust looked like, and he wasn't wearing any of those expressions. His blue eyes were wide and filled with something that didn't fit the experience we'd just been through.
“Damon, I asked you to do something for me today. It was unfair of me to do it when I knew the answer. I just needed you to see it too.”
The admission was almost too much for me. I fought to keep my council, the inside of my cheek burning from the abuse of my teeth. He'd known I was in love with Damon?
“I told you that we were looking for your father and we found him.” My father clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace, while Damon and I stared up at him with wide eyes. He was about to confirm what I already knew. Even with that knowledge, my heart took off in my chest. I was still too scared to hope, even with the new prophecy lingering over my head.
“Your Majesty?”
“Damon, your father was a descendent of an earth nymph. I've watched Cass suffer with her feelings for you and I was never sure how you felt about her, so I had to find out the possibility of you being a match before I could even hope to entertain giving her the freedom she so desperately desired.”
“You knew?” I asked, my tone squeaky.
My dad laughed, his fingers running over my cheek as he passed. “I saw the longing in your eyes when Alec kept him away from you and it tore me apart. I was stupid to agree to it, and I know that more than ever now. It appears that you two were destined for one another, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.”
“That's why I came back. The prophet was murdered tonight, but she told Acantha a riddle and it all but says that yes, Damon is the man I love and he's a part of the prophecy and we have to keep both of us safe.”
“Love?”
“I've loved him since the moment I met him,” I admitted, looking at Damon. Years apart did nothing to change that, and as I spoke the words the truth rang through me. Even when I'd thought he was dead, he'd stayed with me, his memory ling
ering.
Damon looked at me, his eyes reflecting everything I was feeling and more. There was so much that I couldn't even put into words, and it wrapped around me like a blanket, offering me love and safety and a home. Damon was my home.
“Damon?”
“I love her, sire. I always have, and I always will.”
My heart expanded in my chest, all of the love tangling and fusing together until I felt filled with light. For all I knew I could have been floating, because hearing the declaration in front of my father, the king, was more official than anything I could have imagined. Right there, in that room, our futures were colliding and intertwining. I wasn't alone in this prophecy anymore. No matter what came, I would have Damon by my side, and I knew that I would fight for him. I would offer my life for his if it came down to it.
Epilogue
The Palace was a somber place after the attack. We’d lost a lot of people. Some were dignitaries who had shown up for the ball and others were guards and staff who had fought to keep us safe. Sifting through the carnage wasn't easy, and both Damon and I were kept away from it all and told to stay in the farmhouse until there was some semblance of normalcy in the palace again.
The separation from his routine was driving Damon insane, and being wrapped in cotton wool and having Rasmus and Aiolos as our personal guards didn't make things any easier, either. It was a constant reminder of what Damon's life used to be.
The king hadn't kicked him out of the guard or revoked his title or rank. I think he, more than anyone, understood that Damon saw being in the guard as a part of himself and he didn't want to take that away from his existence. As I’d understood it, the king was going to be giving him a more official position when things had finally settled down. Damon wasn't comfortable with the idea of any special treatment or advancements, but he never once complained. I just hated seeing him so frustrated.