Because as he’s reading me, he’s also feeding me verses ofhimself.
Of a loneliness more endless than the sky; of a crushing, mincing, hacking pain like nothing I thought imaginable, yet somehow paling in comparison to the deep sense of betrayal that’s wedged between his ribs.
Coming to my intention, he pauses, passing me glimpses of his vast and unfathomable love for my daughter—like he’s aligning the two, weighing them—before he retreats the same way he came. Gently and without pain, leaving a quiet sense of …permission.
I heave breath as the world comes back into horrific, imploding shape, tears streaming.
Heart pulped.
I dip my head in silent gratitude, but don’t let the moment linger, fearing that if I do he’ll change his mind, decide I’m unworthy, and toss me off the mountain.
My step forward is immediate,throughhim.
Straight into Kyzari’s arms.
She gasps, tipping her head to look at me. Startling blue eyes that catch my heart and cradle it, hauling a whimper up my throat.
She stops singing. Stops breathing.
Doesn’t so much as blink as Caelis plumes back within the stone, eradicating the strange clamor, leaving us encased in a frigid silence that frightens me to the core. Despite it, I hold her with every ounce of my being, one hand flat between her shoulders, the other coming up to touch the side of her face—mended.
Healthy.
Alive.
“You’re here,” she chokes, searching my eyes with such frenzy I’m sure she’s hunting for something in them, I just wish I knew what. Wish I knew her tells and quirks—anythingabout her. “You came.”
I open my mouth, close it. Struggle to find the right words to speak to this beautiful, grown female who’s looking at me like I shaped the world hand in hand with the Creators.
I didn’t.
All she’s had from me is a lark telling her to shore up when she no doubt needed me the most.
I look at Kaan’s málmr still strung around her neck, swallow, lift my gaze again. Failing to think of something more delicate to say, I decide to go with the cold, painful truth … because she’s not a youngling I need to keep things from, masking ugly realities with pretty words. She’s a grown adult, and we missed it.
We missed it all.
“I wish I got here sooner,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over her brow in a way I’m certain I’ve done before.
Her eyes widen, tracing the motion of my hand. Aside from that, she’s motionless. So still I wonder if she’s forgotten to breathe. My thought is confirmed when her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she faints, crumbling.
But I catch her.
For perhaps the first time since I brought her into this world over a hundred phases ago …I catch her.
My gut finally stops convulsing.
Spitting blood and bile onto the snow, I realize the world hasn’t trembled in a while …
Have the moons stopped falling?
I lift my head, squint through the smoggy gloom, pumping my lungs with short, rattling breaths that only serve to clog me further. A barking cough threatens to slice me open, jerking the two stab wounds that have grown impossible to ignore.
No point checking them. I’m certain the light feeling in my head isn’t due to what little I’ve consumed since we were captured, but the constant leak of blood oozing from my drenched bindings. Like the wounds held breath as best they could until my job was done.
I’m thankful for that.
Avoiding the gory twist of Arkyn’s mutilated mouth and his flat, unseeing eyes, I tear a strip from his cloak and bind it around the bottom half of my face to stop my lungs from clogging with dusty pollution. All the while, most of my conscience is within, cradling Rygun’s remaining ember. Blowing on it. Begging it to flare. But no matter how hard I try, it continues to sputter.
