Page 81 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)

THE COLOR OF THE OCEAN

Clara

OF ALL THE DAYS TO be working the rations station instead of the hospital ward, it had to be this day. When the soldier delivered the message, Clara left without turning back. She’d apologize later.

She sprinted as fast as she could toward the ward, trying not to trample anyone or trip. Samuel bounced in the wrap she’d tied around crossways around her chest, her right arm keeping him tucked to her.

In her other hand, she clutched the Stradat Lord Kapitan’s missive in her fist.

They have found Jove and Les and are taking them to the hospital ward. They are alive and relatively well.

It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped on anything with the tears clouding her vision. Just one more tunnel. Just one more curve.

The air burned in her chest, but she only pressed on harder.

He was alive. Alive. Alive. Her prayers had been answered.

She dodged a few more refugees before she turned the corner and saw the crooked rows of pallets and hanging linens.

She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, still holding the missive.

The proof she wasn’t running to identify a body.

She whipped her head right, then left. Where was he? He should be there.

All she knew was that he was alive. And relatively well.

What did relatively mean in Harlan Shackley’s estimation?

Where was Jove ?

One of the men sent to fetch her raced ahead and spoke with another man, who nodded and wound his way to the back of the ward. Clara followed him, stepping around medics, nurses, and the injured.

The ward was loud as it usually was, the noise made worse by the Catacomb walls. Clara’s eyes searched, her head on a swivel.

And then he was there, appearing as if from thin air.

Relatively well apparently meant filthy and covered in blood.

Jove’s face was haggard, his lips chapped.

His days-old stubble clung in patches to his cheeks.

His shirt was torn, bloody, and no longer white.

One of his hands was swathed in bedlinen bandages.

But his eyes burned in his face. They were still the color of the ocean she’d missed so dearly.

“Jove,” she sobbed.

He couldn’t have heard her, not over the noise in the ward, but it was still all the permission he needed. He sprinted toward her, clearing someone’s pallet with one jump, not even clipping his shoe on the rail.

Then his arms wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest. Careful of Samuel, he cupped the back of her head, pressing his forehead to hers. Tears slid down his nose and hers. And then he kissed her.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry…” he whispered against her lips.

She couldn’t respond; she could only stretch to kiss him harder.

He was there. He wasn’t gone, and he’d returned to her, the torn and ragged edges of her bruised and aching heart fitting back together perfectly.

They had much to discuss, but for a moment, it was enough just to love him. Just to have him.

He pulled back slightly to wipe the tears cascading down her face and pressed his lips to Samuel’s head. His other arm didn’t leave her waist, his fingers clutching her side as if she would disappear the moment he let go. He pressed his palm to her cheek and gave her a softer kiss.

“I’m…” His throat bobbed, and he shook his head. “I’m never going to let you…”

But his emotions got the better of him, choking the words he wanted to say.

She shook her head, her own emotions still clouding her mind. “I’ll always be here, love. I promise.”

With careful hands, she worked Samuel out of the wrap, mindful of his head. She laid him in her husband’s arms, his hands trembling a little as he tucked their son close to his chest and brushed his fingers of his injured hand across the boy’s face.

“Hello Sammy,” Jove whispered as he kissed his son’s forehead. Samuel squirmed and stuffed a fist into his mouth.

Clara wrapped her arm around Jove and laid her head on his shoulder. His presence was all she needed. Solid. Immovable. Here . “I’m sorry, too.”

And she was. Leaving that note had been a moment of weakness, though one she needed to have in order to get to this moment. It hadn’t been a mistake. It was a decision that might very well have saved her life and her son’s.

She wasn’t one to question providence. He was here, and so was she. They would get through this together.

He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who…” Jove’s face crumpled again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She caressed his face with soft fingers. “We’re together again, and that’s all that matters now.” He leaned into her touch.

He shifted a little, and Clara held him tighter. “You and me. And Sammy. We can do this.”

He nodded, and even in the middle of a hospital ward with so much darkness surrounding them, Clara knew it was going to be okay.