Page 29 of She Who Holds My Wrath

My knees hit the ground. “No.”

I claw at the rubble, tearing my nails bloody. “No, don’t do this to me. Please.” The stones are too heavy for me to move. There’s too many. I can’t. I can’t do it. “HELP!” My voice rips raw from my lungs. “Someone help me!”

Soldiers rush in, heaving stone aside. More and more until my worst fears are confirmed.

“Theodus,” I sob. His small, broken body emerges from the rubble, black hair matted with ash, blood streaking his tiny face. I drag him into my arms, cradling him against me. “No. No, baby no. Theodus?” My fingers shake as I brush his hair back. “It’s Daisy. Come on. Please.”

I lower my ear to his lips, desperate to hear just the tiniest of breath. But there’s nothing. “Help him!” My voice shatters. “Please. He can’t be… he’s too young⁠—”

A soldier kneels and takes the boy from me, laying him gently on the floor. I watch as he presses his hands to his small chest, pumping, pinching his nose and breathing into his little mouth. Again. Again. I watch. Not daring to blink. The pumps get slower and slower until the soldier slowly stills.

His head bows, tears streaking his soot-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I crawl forward, pulling Theodus back into my arms. His body is limp. Too light. Too still. Too small. “Where was his home?” I whisper, my voice hollow.

“This way,” another soldier gestures shakily.

I carry him through the ruin, his body cradled to my chest as the world seems to go silent around me as eyes notice the tiny, lifeless frame in my arms. Until one singular voice breaks it.

“Theodus?” A woman stands frozen ahead, bright orange horns gleaming through the smoke, her black hair tumbling wild. Her eyes lock onto her son in my arms, then climb slowly to mine. She collapses to her knees in the middle of the wreckage surrounding us, and the scream that leaves her throat splits me in two. I numbly walk forward, falling to my knees with her to place the small boy into her trembling arms.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper.

She doesn’t answer. Only rocks him. Pressing her face to his with her hand cupping his cheek, wailing as her body shakes violently with grief. My lip trembles, my eyes burning with hot tears as I watch her hold her boy for what will likely be the last time.

I rise unsteadily and turn to the nearest soldier, my voice steel, though I feel hollow. “Take care of her. Whatever she needs—see to it. Do you understand?” He nods once.

I can’t look back as I turn to walk away. I can’t. Because the image of a mother cradling her lifeless child will follow me into every nightmare, every shadow. And the worst part—the part that tears me apart—is knowing it’s all my fault. If I had never stepped foot in this realm. If I had never looked twice at Korithax. If I had never let myself love him, never bound myself to him, none of this would be happening. No Divine Six retaliation. No shattered villages. No mothers screaming over the bodies of their children.

This war, this ruin, all of it… it’s because of me.

I meet Aran’s eyes and nod once. He opens the portal straight to the door of my chambers. I step through the portal and push the door open, slamming it closed behind me so nobody can follow. My body can no longer hold me; my strength is gone. I drop to my knees as a guttural scream tears from me so raw it doesn’t sound human. Flames engulf me, wrapping my body as grief turns into fire, devouring me whole, until I’m nothing but fire and agony. People died today because I couldn’t stay away from him. Because I was selfish. Because I was weak.

This is my fault.

All of it.

All my fault. All my fault. All. My. Fault.

Chapter 15

ARAN

Islowly push the door open—despite knowing her slamming it closed meant she wanted to be left alone—and watch in despair as Daisy crumples, fire consuming her as her screams rip through the chambers.

I can’t move. I can’t help. This is her grief, raw and unrestrained, and though every instinct in me screams to pull her from it, I know she needs this. If she keeps it buried, it will rot her from the inside. Better to burn now than let it fester and destroy her later. Still, I feel helpless. Gods, she’s endured too much already. Marta. Theodus. Each loss a blade carving deeper. How much grief can one soul take before it finally breaks beyond repair? Every flicker of light I see in her gets snuffed out by the world before it has even the smallest chance to shine. And it kills me.

The guards rush in at the sounds of her screams, but I raise my hand sharply. I shake my head, and I see their hesitation. But I don’t hesitate one bit. “Stay back. She needs this.”

When at last the fire gutters out, Daisy collapses into a heap, spent and unconscious. I cross the room and gather her in my arms. Her skin burns against mine, a small hiss leaving my lips at the contact, but I don’t care. I bark at the guards to pull back the silk sheets on her bed. Gently, I lay her down on the cool mattress, brushing a strand of hair from her damp cheek. I can’t tell if it’s from tears or sweat.

I step to the door, voice iron as I face the men at the threshold. “Two guards at this post at all times. No less. If one leaves, another steps in. If I find out this door is left unguarded for even a moment, you’re done. Understood?” They nod quickly. “Good. Alert me the moment she wakes.”

I don’t wait for a reply. My feet move on autopilot, carrying me to the only place that can soothe my aching soul.

She’s leaning against the doors of the balcony when I enter, short hair fluttering gently in the breeze, silver eyes distant. But when she hears me, her head snaps around and all the worry she wears on her face crashes through my heart. She runs to me, flinging herself into my arms.

“Oh, thank the gods. I heard the commotion—I saw the smoke—I thought⁠—”