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“There is much for us to show you,” Sybil tells her with a smile. Both Fates are careful not to look at their slain sister as she lies there, unmoving.
It’s Xavier who falls to his knees beside Posey, brushing a blonde strand of hair from her face. He strokes her cheek, looking at her. Angrily, he turns to Zara. “She wasn’t supposed to die.”
Helene, who is closest to him, places a hand on his shoulder, soothing him. It’s Essos, though, who has the power to ease his grief. When my husband tries to take a step toward his brother, Xavier cuts him with a glare that lowers the temperature of the room several degrees.
“There was no other way. Your aim to keep her alive was admirable, but ultimately foolish,” Estelle says, finally looking at Posey. I expect there to be something of what Xavier is feeling, a mixture of regret and sadness, but I only see disappointment. I wonder how much of that is true and how much of Posey’s death was a set up. Zara is now standing with Sybil and Estelle. It’s clear that this plan to kill Posey is one they hatched together outside of our original designs.
“I’m sorry,” Xavier whispers to the prone form in his arms. He lowers his head to press his forehead to hers, a sob shaking his chest. Essos gestures to everyone that we should give Xavier his privacy. For as troubled as their relationship was, they were together for centuries. There will be no closure where Posey is involved, no figuring out if there were moments that were real.
When we get upstairs and settled in the living room, I look back toward the stairs to the throne room, wondering if there is something I can do to soothe his pain. Drops of blood on the floor distract me, and I follow it to its source.
Essos has dropped onto a chair, and I see that his breathing is haggard, his shoulder drooped. His eyes are on our family, checking them over for injuries, letting Callie start to tend to them first.
“Essos,” I scold, rushing to him as fast as my damaged knee will let me. I choke down my cry of pain as I settle to one knee before him, the other outstretched to the side.
“I’m fine.” His words are more a whisper as I reach for his wound.
“Is my big brother being a cry baby? Needs his wife to lick his wounds? This is why wearing black to battle is best. Never let them see you bleed,” Galen taunts from across the room. His wife skips over him as she inventories everyone’s wounds.
I ignore him and start to peal Essos’s jacket off. Essos huffs out a pained breath, trying to grit his teeth. His eyes nearly cross when I pull the jacket off entirely. The white sleeve of his shirt is coated in blood and so is half of his vest. He was struck with the God Killer, so his wound isn’t closing. My throat is utterly dry, stopping the desperate plea that has built up in my throat.
“You’re such a jackass, and you wonder why people hate you?” Helene snaps at Galen.
I’m trying to blink away the tears, checking Essos’s face as my fingers tremble, undoing the buttons on his vest. He’s still conscious and with it, and I have to think I’m overreacting because he was standing up just a minute ago. His good hand comes up to cover mine, stilling them.
“Don’t.” He lets out a heavy breath. He’s unable to finish his sentence before he passes out completely. His hand falls from mine limply, and various versions of my future flash through my head, each more untenable than the last.
I scream, pushing up to put pressure on his shoulder. There is a flurry of movement behind me, but I don’t pay it any mind. I focus only on Essos, only on not losing him. A pair of strong hands pulls me away from him, and I turn, ready to shred whoever it is. When I find it’s Galen touching me, I scream for a whole new reason. Immediately, he lets me go, and Callie shoulders past us to get to Essos.
She’s just as gentle, but firmer when she parts his vest. The amount of blood is staggering, and my head feels lighter the longer I look at it. I refuse to let my emotions get the better of me. Essos needs me to be strong right now. He needs me to be here for him and that is exactly what I’m going to do.
“Help me lay him down,” Callie orders, and both Kai and Galen jump into action. She watches her husband closely, not trusting him and, frankly, neither do I, but if he will help Essos and save him, then I am here for it.
One clear thought crosses my mind, and I run as fast as my broken knee will take me to Xavier. He’s the only other healer we have on hand right now, and as badly as I want to give him space to grieve, I can’t. If I do, we might both be grieving and I didn’t go through all of that, all of this, to lose my husband.
As I get to the bottom of the stairs, my knee decides it’s done with my bullshit and gives out. My momentum is carrying me forward and I let all of my weight crash onto my hands to avoid throwing my body weight on my belly when I fall. My bump still hits the ground, but not as bad as if I hadn’t tried to catch myself.
Xavier’s red-rimmed eyes meet mine and he reverently lets Posey back down on the ground to help me. We grip each other’s forearms as he assists me to my feet and before he can say anything, I cut him off.
“Essos needs you,” I plead, proud of myself for keeping my voice from cracking.
“Of course.” He says it without inflection and then helps me back up the stairs. We’re halfway when he quits trying to help and just scoops me into his arms. Neither one of us can find it in ourselves to crack a joke.
No one turns when we enter the room. Xavier tries to set me down across from Essos but I refuse, pushing off the couch to limp to him. I kneel again at the top of the couch, bracing his head with my hands. I run my thumbs over his forehead. One look at his wound starts the tears again, but I don’t realize it until a drop clears some of the blood and grime from his skin.
“You need to stay. We’re not done yet. You’re my sun. I need you here for Pom, and for the family we’re meant to have. Stay with me, please. I can’t have gone through all of that just to lose you again,” I whisper to him.
Behind me, there are hushed murmurs of what to do. I watch Callie stitch the wound shut and apply a clean dressing before she starts to talk to everyone else again. I hear words likeblood lossandfatal, but I can’t listen to them. I can’t acknowledge what they’re saying.
A hand on my shoulder tries to pull me away. “Daphne, we need to look at your wounds.”
“Don’t touch me.” My voice sounds shrill and I jerk my shoulder out of their grip. I can’t even tell who said it; everyone is speaking so quietly, afraid to startle me.
“Daphne,” this voice is harder. Galen. “I will drag you out of this room if you make me. Let Callie look at your injuries.”
His interference is enough to get me to really look away from my pale, pale husband. “Since when do you care?” I hiss. “Isn’t this what you always wanted? My husband dead so you can rule the Underworld all by yourself? Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why aren’t you trying to heal him?” I turn my accusatory gaze to Xavier. “Help him,” I plead. “Please.”
“It’s the blade. We can’t do anything about it,” Xavier explains.
