Page 151 of As Above, So Below

“The best healer in the city is due soon,” Ryc speaks quietly behind me, and I give him a slow nod. “You rest. I’ll be right here. When you wake, you’ll feel better, and we’ll have dinner.”

He makes it sound so easy, routine, as if we’ve done this for centuries. And for a split second, I allow myself to imagine what a life with him would look like. The thought causes pangs of bittersweet to pulse in my heart. If we weren’t who we are, we could continue to have moments like this for centuries.

But he’s the Sovereign King of Erus, and I’m a daughter of death.

Everyone knows demons don’t get faerietale endings.

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The second time I wake is much less painful than the first.

Whatever healer Ryc had sent for deserves far more than gold for their service. No lingering pain or soreness, and my side bears no evidence of injury. My mind is still tired, and my innate slowly recovering—as I’d pushed too hard against Kassil—but those aren’t things a healer can address.

Neither are the proverbial rips and tears in my heart mourning the loss of Cora. Nor the guilt that eats at me. Lacking the resolve to stop myself, I ruminate and fester on last night’s tragedy, toiling on what I could have done differently.

There’s much I could have done differently.

I may not be the greatest fighter or warrior, and it’s because of this I wasn’t able to reach Cora quickly enough. If I’d just been faster—

“Guilt will get you nowhere, little demon,” Ryc whispers behind me, his arm tightening around me.

It’s not guilt.

Not entirely.

“I am capable of more. Eve doesn’t deserve to lose Cora,” I respond, staring blankly at the wall, my tone devoid of feeling. “And Cora didn’t deserve to lose her life.”

It’s self-loathing, and guilt, and mourning, and sorrow, and anger.

All of the emotions wrap themselves around my darkened heart and threaten to squeeze the life from it. I could have done more. I could have been faster. I shouldn’t have given her my hair ribbonknowingthe hells would soon have information on where I was.

Cora is—was—innocence.

It shouldn’t have been her to die.

It should have been me.

In a weak attempt to save myself from my spiraling thoughts, I roll to face Ryc. His eyes open, a brow arching. The way his hair falls into his eyes and how he stares at me through the dark curtain—the concern in his eyes is clear.

I frame his face with my hands, and a small, lazy smirk tilts his lips.

“I never thanked you.” I don’t mean for the words to sound hollow, but they do.

Ryc laughs, a soft and quiet sound. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Even so,” I counter as I lean in and place a soft kiss upon his lips. His arm tightens around me in a possessive grasp.

I draw back, searching his face and he does the same.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Behind Ryc, the bedroom door opens, and an older human woman enters the bedroom.

“Your Majesty, if you wish to be ready in time for dinner, I suggest you get out of bed.” she chirps as she moves across the room to throw back the curtains.

As curtains scrape against their rods, light from the late afternoon sun floods the room. It causes my eyes to water and become narrow slits. At the same time, this woman addressing Ryc asyour majestybrings the reality of our situation crashing into me.

It’s a reality I want to ignore for just a little while longer. Let reality lie outside of this bedroom, let me have this. Please.