I had told myself I would stay aloof. Would not care. Would treat his wounds, save his life if possible. Nothing more. But how could I not ache at seeing him like this? How could I not care when his screams died down, replaced by hoarse sobs, his face buried into my pillow?
I had always failed at hardening my heart. Especially where he was concerned.
After putting away the iron rod with something close to disgust, I gently loosened the restraints around Noctis’s wrists and removed the leather he had bitten on. My hands were tender, almost a caress. I didn’t resist the impulse to lean my head against his, to take his hand.
“Please, Baradaz,” he whispered against my temple. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.” The reassurance cost me nothing; he wouldn’t even remember my words by morning. It seemed I could still lie convincingly. Most of all to myself.
Noctis eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep, his shallow breaths brushing against my cheek, his hand clasped around mine. I sighed in relief and gently untangled myself from him. Trying to ignore the peaceful sight of his relaxed face, long dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, I busied myself with tending to his wound. The bleeding had stopped, and I thought the angry red welts had lessened.The power of the healing stone pulsed in my hands as I mended the last remnants of the open cut. To be safe, I slathered the entire area with disinfectant salve before bandaging it up. My gaze wandered to the blankets beneath him, soiled with rainwater, mud, and blood. I needed to change those, but first, I would let him rest.
The storm had finally broken, the window over the bed allowing in the light of dawn. I should check on the araks and the chickens. A bit of fresh air would help clear my head.
This time, when I looked back at Noctis before closing my bedroom door, a strange calm had settled within me. I was surely acting against the will of the Allfather, and I knew Noctis was still as dangerous and unpredictable as ever, but I couldn’t regret my choice.
Was his return to my life a blessing or a curse? I suspected the latter. But I would not let that scare me. It never had.
CHAPTER
3
THE SUNDERING WARS
Twelve years earlier, thirty-eight years after Yggdrasil’s fall
Rada
Iknew I was riding into a trap.
The ever-present sense of danger, a constant companion during the long years of war, had me on edge that day, a tenday after we had embarked on our perilous mission. A shiver ran over my skin, prompting me to reach out for the strands of magic in the pattern of existence around me again and again. The different aspects of Order appeared to my mind in shimmering colors: silver for Air, red for Fire, blue for Water, brown for Earth, and gold for my own Light. Yet despite the familiar pulse of power coursing through me, my unease only grew. Part of me anticipated the Light to dim at any moment, swallowed by an unrelenting Darkness I knew all too well.
The sharp, unforgiving rocks of the Obsidian Mountains rose on either side of us as our company made its way along the road, the sun glinting on the fine silver armor of the Elvish warriors around me. They were an impressive sight: the Elvish king’s finest soldiers, led by his own son, Prince Leander, assigned to escort me to the Dwarfish realm. Their steeds galloped onward without tiring, a banner showingthe five-colored star of the Aurea raised proudly above them, next to the Great Tree of the High Elves’ kingdom.
Golden stitching on a banner was all that remained of the once mighty Yggdrasil. Nearly forty years had passed since the Tree had fallen, starting this endless war, yet the bitter memory still made me avert my eyes, my heart heavy with all my regrets.
Recently, the enemy had targeted ourlyr-stone supply, and my husband chose me to investigate. While Tanez and M’tar, the two Aurea of Earth, fought on the western battlefields, I was the one who the stubborn Dwarfish king Nair—one of our staunchest allies, despite his volatile temper—held in the highest regard. On a more personal note that would have once pained me, Aramaz was likely relieved to be free of me for a while.
A sudden pressure in the air stole my breath.
Hewas here.
The awareness of his presence burrowed into my very bones with a certainty that went far beyond the reach of my magic. A moment later, the first barrage of arrows shot out of nowhere. One buried deep into the narrow gap between the neckpiece and cuirass of the Elvish rider beside me and he toppled off his horse with a gurgling, blood-filled scream. Every shadow cast by the sharp, foreboding rocks around us twisted as if in agony. An all-encompassing dread washed over me, freezing my entire body.
I was not ready to face him again. I might never be ready.
That he had eluded my detection was no surprise. The Fallen One had always been a master of deception, weaving intricate webs of lies and deceit as effortlessly as the threads of Darkness and Chaos he commanded.
My hastily erected shield deflected the next volley of black-feathered arrows, minor explosions filling the air as my magic destroyedthe threat to the Elvish soldiers.Too late,my mind whispered. I reined in my horse, guilt churning in my stomach as I surveyed the dozens already injured or dead on the ground. The screams of horses and Elves echoed in my ears, a shrill accusation. Once again, I had failed.
“My queen!” Prince Leander urged his steed next to mine and gestured for me to seek refuge behind the protective circle of soldiers forming around us, their progress hindered by the narrow road. Though I needed no protection, I appreciated the gesture. “Lady Baradaz,” the prince said, his blue eyes alert yet calm. “Can you maintain your shield until we have broken free of this valley?”
I had never warmed to King Orondir’s haughty youngest son. Our interactions remained coldly polite, driven by political necessities. The High Elves ruled the lands surrounding Lyrheim, with their ancestral seat located in the city itself. The Lyrasen family had been among the first Elves Aramaz and I created, and their fate had always been intertwined with ours. I had been an honored guest at Prince Leander’s wedding, had blessed all his children when they were born in the light of the Allfather, and he was a seasoned warrior who had commanded his father’s army in many battles.
Alongside the Human troops from Triannon and Lasgallen, the Elves made up the main part of the forces of Order. They had borne the brunt of the losses in this war, the Fallen One’s attacks against them always the most vicious. Apprehension filled Prince Leander’s eyes as he glanced up to the ragged cliffs where the attack had originated, his handsome face darkening beneath his helmet. His concern was justified; this place could become a death trap.
“I can keep that shield up for as long as necessary, Prince Leander,” I reassured him, reaching out for the Light around us and channeling more power into the intricately woven strands to reinforce them. They glowed with a faint golden outline, visible even to mortal eyes.
Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe it was just one of the Fallen One’s Anima attacking us. While our shapeshifting spirit servants did not rival the Aurea in power, they could command an impressive amount of magic, especially those corrupted by Chaos like the Fallen One himself.
