How stupid of her not have understood it earlier?
They would go tomorrow. They would find the sword and she would thankfully seal it away from the King once and for all.
Cassia was certain.
She exhaled a long breath and pressed her forehead against the door… Someone, something was watching her.
Sia could feel the eyes licking up down her spine. She could feel them so alive and hot against the bare skin of her arms.
She became alerted suddenly and bent down to grab a dagger from her boots. She twisted about, placing her back flat against the panel of the door. She held the dagger firmly between her fingertips as cold sweat took over her and covered her forehead in a sheet of ice.
She could feel the breathing of a beast…
Fast and violent…
A dragon…
A monster…
She could feel it breathing down her neck, she could feel it. But she didn’t move. She kept her regard unfaltering. She would never give in to the whims of the Feremony beasts.
A low beating of a heart echoed in her ears, so close to her that she almost blamed it for her own. But it was beating with another rhythm, faster, quicker as if the being was afraid of something.
Her throat bobbed as she pulled her chin up and raised the dagger where she thought the beast to be hiding in the shadows.
She felt it pulling away from her. Felt it and… and heard its steps. Every hair in her body had straightened; standing on the edge, every fibre on her.
Nothing moved for a moment as she surveyed the steps of the shadowy beast, counted every time it moved. Seconds, minutes passed until she could barely listen to it and her heartbeat had accelerated so much that all she heard was the thrumming in her chest.
She slacked back against the door and took in a deep breath. She turned as quickly as she could and burst into her room, locking the door behind her, warding it with enchantments. She fell to the ground, curling into a ball around herself.
Her breathing was coming in short gasps. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against her knees. She remained there on the floor for a few more minutes, before her breathing became normal and her heart beat slowly and steadily.
She stood up, pulled off her boots throwing them somewhere at the back of the room. She grabbed both of her daggers and dipped underneath the coverlets of her bed. Daggers in hand prepared to attack any intruder that may visit through the night.
Nature help her…
40
Arslan had been checking on Astrid’s pulse every minute for the last five hours. His knees throbbed, but he couldn’t let go of her limp, lifeless body. It was the closest he had ever gotten to her. The closest in all the years he had known her. He could not accept her death. He could not and would not. Astrid had been his life since the first glance she had thrown towards him. A sneering, terrifying, bone-clattering glance.
He huffed, tears streaming down his cheeks, falling on her face. He wiped her forehead with the back of his hand and sobbed.
He knew the rules, no resurrection, no meddling with the circle of life.
But he couldn’t let her go. He refused to let her go. Not Astrid, not the love of his life. Love, not mate. His mate had died long ago, but Astrid held his heart. Held. Held. Now, she was dead, lifeless, empty.
A hand reached for his shoulder, a slender, white, glowing hand. A touch he had known once. It didn’t startle him, but the weight of it comforted him, somehow. He turned his head, receiving the affectionate touch of the lady. Maybe she could...maybe she could help him. Maybe, she owned him that much at least.
His soul was cracking, opening, shattering. He couldn’t live. Not without Astrid. Before her, he just existed, existed, not lived, never lived.
His tears stained the glow of the lady’s hand, dimming it.
“Nynev,” he sobbed, his chest heaving. Guilt ate him from the inside, burned his soul and incinerated his heart. There was nothing anymore for him. “She’s gone.”
Gone. It echoed in his mind. Gone. Never to come back, never to scowl at him, or tell him how foolish he was, how immature, how lost, never to reprimand him again, never to frown at him. That spark in her eyes when she smiled mischievously, he would never see again.
Maybe he deserved it; after all, he had been the cause of many toils. He deserved to burn in purgatorial flames. Burn till he was but dust and nothing more.
Nynev knelt down beside him, her hands framing his face. She pushed back a few auburn locks and smiled. Nynev always smiled at him, always found the strength to smile.
“Return to your city, Caradah,” Nynev said and patted Astrid’s blond locks. “I will keep her safe here, no one will harm her and you could come and pray wherever you want.”
Arslan raised his head, eyes glittering and red from crying. “I am not leaving her.”
“You have to.”
He shook his head, he couldn’t leave her. Not here, not alone. He pressed his eyes shut. No, he wanted to lay her on the ground and remain beside her. Hold her hands as Ramos takes her away, away into the Underworld. What he felt for Astrid was not the affection of a mate, but the strong, unyielding bond of love, of being exactly where you belong.
The dead would rise first before he would be obliged to leave her side. Death would not force him to leave, no one could.
He pulled his arms tighter around Astrid, his lips grazing her forehead softly. A kiss, an innocent kiss. The only one he had ever given her. The emptiness in his chest was too much for him, too much. The only affectionate gesture he was allowed to show and she was dead. Dead, dead, dead. Gone, leaving him alone to live a miserable existence. A half life. He didn’t want to live a half life again.
Nynev frowned, gathering her hands back to her lap. “You have to go back to the Citadel. The King is raging and the rebels are prepared to attack.”
Arslan sobbed again, clutching Astrid closer, trying to mould her to him, never let her go. “I don’t care.”
Nynev rubbed her hands together, he had never been like this before, never known him to be so weak. It scared her, the extent he would go to keep the frail female in his arms, at his side. “Nothing you can do will prevent Ramos’ Touch, my dear.” Nynev tried to reason with him, her voice low and mother like.
His head shot up, a little twinkle of hope shone in his eyes. “She could. Nynev, she could prevent Ramos’ Touch.”
Nynev shook her head. “She doesn’t know.” The lady exhaled soundly, gritting her teeth tightly. “There is nothing that can be done. Return back to the Citadel. The world needs you.”
“I don’t care about the world!” He snapped. Eyes wide, hatred and malice shining in the violet orbs. “It’s time the world pays me for my services. You, them and the gods. It’s time.”
Nynev closed her eyes, her hands carefully placed over Astrid’s heart in an apology. “It is not about the gods, my dear. Not about them, not this time. Leave her here, I will keep her safe till she is but dust.”
“No!”
He clutched Astrid’s body so tight to him, praying that somehow they would mould into one being, one entity. One forever, for the rest of time. He refused to leave her, desert her side. She was his love, his heart, his soul. It didn’t matter to him that she was not his mate. It never mattered. He cradled her head to his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her close, so close he could still smell the marigold in her hair. His love.
Arslan let his forehead rest against Astrid’s cold one. It was the closest he had gone around her, the closest she had allowed him. A privilege he enjoyed only after her death, a life sacrificed to save them, save him. Astrid knew well enough the severity of flashing through the King’s wards. She hadn’t done it for herself. No, she knew, perhaps awaited her death, she had done it for him and at that, his heart clenched so painfully in his chest, he could barely breathe, barely look at her.
His world, his soul, his everything.
He should have tried harder, sh
ould have fought for her, showing her his affection, an affection coated in feelings that had endured through the years, through her belittling him playfully in her own acidic way. He could not remember a day in his life he hadn’t looked up to her, not a day. He had wasted their time together in the most idiotic way.
She was dead, dead, lifeless, unfeeling and cold. Dead.
+ + +
Nynev tried to untangle him from Astrid’s corpse but to no avail. The elf’s clutch was iron, steel, and adamantine on his little she-elf. Nynev’s heart broke, shattered, too. Nynev could have done something to prevent grief from reaching the sobbing elf before her; he had already given enough to the world, enough.
It was the law though, the law of the gods. No resurrections, no sparing of those she loved, no use of magic to draw a soul from Ramos’ benevolent hands. No one wanted to cause the wrath of a god, the god of the Underworld. No one did. Not even Nynev with all her might power.
She was nothing but a lone fairy, nothing more and till her end, she would remain such.
She only hoped she could help the elf that had once given her so much joy.
The waters thrummed around them, the trees hummed a lachrymose lamentation, one Nynev hadn’t heard before, one that belonged to no known musician, one that made her own heart clench, one that made her cry, tears shining in her blue eyes.
The night flowers essence spread over the place, the little iridescent poppies turned their lights towards the couple lying on the forest’s bed. A strong breeze swept over them, above everyone and everything, capping the world in a dazed blurriness.
Nynev’s eyes lingered on the pair. Astrid’s body splayed out, limp and unmoving, her head lying on Arslan’s shoulder. The elf’s arms wrapped around the dead female, a cocoon of feelings and warmth the unfortunate female couldn’t share. His head hung low, close to her as if she was trying to whisper him something, something arcane and clandestine, only for him.
Arslan’s sobbing mixed with the breeze around them, the soft, final touch of the gods. The final piece of the game.
Nynev raised her eyes to the star painted sky. It was unfair, unfair to see the gods wasting such a wondrous love. Unfair. The glowing female shook her head; the gods had never been good to them, to those beneath them. Nynev still remembered their good grace all over the skin of her back.
She closed her eyes, gooseflesh rising over her bare arms. Maybe it was enough. Nature had graced her with gifts beyond any fantasy. She was a fairy, not an elf. But still, the gods had rules, rules that Nature approved.
Nynev opened her eyes, taking one glance at the skies above.
A gentle hand reached at her shoulder, a ghostly hand. If the gods wanted to comfort someone it wasn’t her that needed them. They could stop being hypocrites and return Astrid’s soul back to her body, give her back to Arslan as a gift for all his years of service.
Nynev brushed the hand from her shoulder and turned away, falling on her knees beside the sobbing elf. She took Astrid’s hand in hers. No, Nynev could not give Astrid her life back; she could not give Arslan his lover back. But she could keep Astrid’s body from decaying. She could keep the young female in a box of glass, adorned with marigold blossoms so her friend would come and talk to his heart-bonded, see that somehow Astrid was still alive through his memories, through his heart.
Nynev sobbed too for her friend, for the happiness he was denied. She couldn’t do something for the grieving elf. Nynev tried to pull Astrid’s body from the clutches of the elf, but he didn’t let go, he sobbed harder, shouting.
“Don’t take her away from me.” He pulled her tighter. “I love you, Astrid.”
Nynev shook her head, feigning a brave smile, she placed two fingers under Arslan’s chin and raised his eyes to hers. “It’s alright.” She said, struggling to keep the smile plastered on her lips. “It’s alright, I will keep her here. In a nice glass box. Would she like a white dress?”
Arslan clenched his jaw, a mad smile taking over his lips, he nodded and said, “Astrid always liked dresses and she liked silver better than gold, but she loves marigolds and cherry blossoms, never roses.”
Nynev kept her smile unfaltering no matter how irresistible was the urge to sob, she took Astrid’s body in her arms, holding her propped against her, mimicking Arslan’s previous embrace. The elf’s hands hung limply on the forest grass, his face contorting in pain, his eyes red and sad, so sad, Nynev’s heart clenched.
She smiled, placing a kiss on Astrid’s cold forehead. The female was gone, gone for good this time. “It is alright, Caradah. I will take care of her. Did she like her hairs braided?”
He shook his head. “No, she always took pride in her hair; she liked to have them free, billowing with the winds.” He sobbed again, his hands covering his face.
Nynev waved her hand once, a white dress with silver linings appeared over Astrid’s dead form, making the fair female illuminate, just as Nynev did. The dark, heavy clothes and cloak were gone, replaced by an ethereal white, feminine dress. Astrid’s hair spilt all over Nynev’s arm, soft and scented with marigold oil. Nynev smiled, this time for real. The female needed to rest, the lady could see it from the ghostly creases on her delicate brow. It was time for her to rest, then.
Nynev waved her hand again. A few feet away from them a glass coffin appeared irradiating the light of the moon and the stars. Nature must have been happy to have had such a beautiful daughter. Nynev’s hand flicked again and a red velvet bed appeared inside the coffin.
The lady chanted a spell and Astrid’s body floated towards the bed, laying the female softly on the velvet, her golden hair splayed around her head, her white skin seemed dull, the only indication she was dead.
Nynev helped Arslan rise from the ground. She walked the elf towards the coffin, holding his hand firmly in her glowing one. The elf peered down at his heart-bonded. His knees giving away, falling beside her, holding her porcelain hand, cradling it at his face, anything to feel close to her.
“Would it help,” Nynev said and smiled. “Would it help to decorate her hair with cherry blossoms?”
The elf raised his eyes, shaking his head. “No, marigold,” His voice broke, he shook his head again. “Her hair always smelled like marigold.”
Nynev nodded. “Alright, Caradah. Alright.”
Little orange flowers covered Astrid’s golden hairs and Arslan couldn’t help himself from sobbing harder, ignoring the pain in his chest, the blurring of his vision and the throbbing in his skull.
“I will keep her safe,” Nynev said and dragged him to his feet. “You have to go, avenge her if you must. The resistance must continue despite Astrid’s decease. It is time after all those years for the King to meet his downfall.”
Arslan’s eyes rose to Nynev’s, his throat bobbed as he nodded. He took one last glance at Astrid and smiled. He bent forward, stealing his first kiss from her bluish lips, whispering, “I love you,” he smiled. “I will meet you soon, irmo Eithne.”
He stood, straightening his spine as he gazed at the moon above them. It was time for him to take the blood he was promised. Time to kill the elf that caused the death of those he loved most. He gritted his teeth, spared one last look at the glowing Lady before flashing away with the silent promise of revenge hanging heavy on his dark magic.
41
Cassia banged on Ael’s door. He was already late, she huffed. Lycans and their sleep. It was almost impossible to wake him up. Impossible. Cassia had been ready for the last three hours, around four in the morning, she had gone down to one of the drawing room and waited, but Ael hadn’t come and Cassia was on the brink of a heart attack.
She banged again, but this time the door was answered by a sleep dishevelled Ael. Cassia swore under her breath, averting her eyes from the elf before her. He did have a tendency to shock her whenever he could. She clenched her jaw, her eyes moving to the three maids chatting and throwing glances towards Ael.
Cassia twisted in her feet, baring her teeth to the
females and growling with all her animalistic might, marking her territory. The maids rushed down the hallway, gasping and cowering away, deciding to never go close to that female again. Cassia turned around to finally face Ael. He glared at her, through hooded eyes obviously heavy from sleep.
What was I doing?
Sia cleared her throat. Of course, the next time she should just go about and piss on his leg like a dog. Indeed, what was she doing? She had never, never, in all her years, acted like a possessive hen for a male before. She swore again, it must be an Adanei thing.
Ael crossed his arms over his bare chest and leant onto the door frame, gazing at the malicious female he asked, “What are you doing here? It’s too early.”
Cassia’s eyes narrowed; maybe she should have allowed those three hounds attack Ael. “I warned you to be punctual.”
“I was going to be, but later, not now.”
Sia crossed her arms, mimicking him. “Right, I should just go then.” She turned on her heels.
“Wait,” he rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. “You won’t go alone to face that lake woman, will you?”
“Watch me.”
“Sweetheart,”
Cassia twisted around, pointing her finger with impossible agitation at him. Her mismatched eyes narrowed at him, the silver ring on her index finger gleaming against the faint daylight. Ael took a step away from her, his blue eyes full of amusement. Oh, how she loathed him when he did that... that shimmer in his eyes!
“Watch it, mutt.”
“Mutt?” He chuckled, arms casually hanging at his sides. “I think you are rather fond of my wolf.”
“Last time you tried to bite my leg off, remember?” She grimaced and threw him a filthy look; she planted her fists on her hips. “Why don’t you go and get ready. I will wait here.”
His loud groan was his only reply as he shut the door.
Cassia returned to brooding and leaning by the door. How on earth was she going to hide the sword after that? She would find a way, hiding it could wait for a moment. She just had to find it for starters. This was not the time for worries. The rune could get them... Nature knew where. It was insane, Leondir was insane.
A War of Silver and Gold Page 33