Page 103 of Forged in Fading

Boden leaned forward and pushed his palms into the ground as if he meant to stand, but his mother guided him back down. “Are you hurt?” His gaze darted over Alvara’s body, and she looked down at herself while Lilja panicked on her behalf, screeching in her ear.

Was she hurt? Gore and fire had discolored her clothes in a stomach-churning blend of red and black, leaving tears and holes in the fabric, along with jagged gashes and blistering burns. It didn’t matter. None of it did. “You. The blood. You…” Her words dissolved into scorching rasps, and the room started to dim.

Boden ignored the healer’s squawks of protest, struggled to his feet, and limped toward Alvara. He pulled her away from the wall, hissing as he pressed her body into his and enveloped her in his arms.

She buried her face in his shoulder, not caring that his warm blood soaked through her tunic. She needed to feel his heartbeat—proof that he was real.

“I’m all right,” he whispered. “I’m all right.”

Blood and sweat had mangled the scent of the forest his bear was so fond of, but it still slowed her breathing, each inhale coming easier than the last.

Shit.

When had this happened? He had come to mean something to her, a part of her that she couldn’t lose without also losing a piece of her soul. He had become a weakness she couldn’t allow, not if she wanted to defeat King Einar. It was the only way to honor her family and become whole again.

Alvara tore herself free and backed away toward the door. The back of her legs rammed into tables and chairs, but she only stumbled faster.

“You need a healer!” Boden lurched forward, and the healer caught him before he collapsed to the ground with a moan.

That one little sound sent her pulse and feet racing. She needed to put distance between them. The more, the better.

“Alvara!” His voice, so godsdamned familiar now, disappeared into the cacophony of sounds from the town. Alvara weaved through the destruction and let the stench of fading pull her back to reality.

The staggering loss of life had left its scar on every spirit and surface.

Swirling plumes of smoke reached up into the sky, twisted and gnarled hands wishing for one last morsel of sunlight before fading, never to return. The smell of scorched flesh tinged the salty air and branded itself on her mind. Funeral fires. The same ones that had turned her mother’s and sister’s bodies to ash.

Elves and humans dug through corpses to find those that mattered, and their anguished moans shattered Alvara’s heart anew. Magic or no magic, ears pointed or round, they all met the same end. Helvati didn’t discriminate.

Melodies in the human tongue intertwined in the air, singing of love and loss in a way that could break anyone’s heart. If this invasion was any indication of the king’s strength, what hope did they have of winning?

Blocking out her pain and exhaustion, Alvara bent down and helped a human lift a body, if she could even call it that. It had been mutilated beyond recognition. She barely held down the contents of her stomach long enough to stack it on top of a wooden pyre next to other pillaged corpses.

She retched in the nearby bushes, only allowing herself a moment to dry her watery eyes on her shirt before helping with the next body that needed moving.

One thing was certain: Alvara would kill King Einar—she had to.

Whispers of the town’s devastation reached her as she worked, each one worse than the last. Their chief had survived, but three of the other visiting leaders hadn’t.

Only soot remained of the crops Lilja and a few others had planted under the watchful eye of Boden’s mother, along with the shelters that had begun to take shape as a more permanent solution for the refugees. Rebuilding Gosibik and its wall would take weeks, if not months, and require shifting some of their focus from the coming war, which was something they couldn’t afford.

Even with the dark cloud of consequences from King Einar’s attack, Alvara’s mind kept wandering back to Boden. His mangled body, the wound that could have taken him from this world forever.

He had managed to find a home in her heart so effortlessly that she hadn’t even noticed. If she let it continue⁠—

No. He had already become one more person King Einar could tear from her life, leaving a gaping hole that could never be filled.

Alvara wasn’t sure how much more she could lose.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Astabbing pain shot through Alvara’s arm and wrenched her from the sleep that had finally found her after countless hours of tossing and turning. She cursed and rolled onto her back. Drops of blood splattered the sheets, so much like the hearts and necks she had torn open the day before.

Alvara reached for the stain with trembling fingers and flung the sheet away from her, then wiped her sweaty palms on her pants that she hadn’t even bothered to change out of before going to bed. Maybe a bath would do her some good.

Threadbare towel and pungent soap in hand, she tiptoed around sleeping bodies and headed for the hot spring. The sun had yet to rise, leaving the town swathed in blessed darkness that hid all evidence of the brutality that had torn through the streets.

Curling wisps of steam invited her into the blistering water, and she stripped her body bare. She would need to find new clothes again, but for now, Alvara sank into the delicious heat, wincing at the sting of her injuries. A measly amount of soap wouldn’t cleanse her of the lives she had taken, but that didn’t stop her from scrubbing until her skin turned bright red.