Page 11 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

DELPHIA

W e crossed over the border into Auryna in record time, and my body screamed with every step, my lungs tired and abused.

I didn’t have enough meat on my bones to make a trek this long, my weak muscles trembling on the first day. The next was infinitely worse. My thighs felt like they were tearing straight off the bone.

I wheezed, each breath reverberating painfully in my skull.

No matter how much water I drank, the thirst never faded, and the nausea never let up.

Each time I vomited, Thana held my hair back, and I hated that she saw me.

I hated the shame that burned in my cheeks and the lingering need to turn around.

I hated that I wanted to go back to Canyon and drink myself to death.

While Thana kept a close eye on me—even slept with me at night—she gave me some semblance of space during the day, walking with Edana, who, shockingly, was Rogue’s mother.

Thana, of all people, would know. She was the one who burned her body in a pyre.

She just hadn’t stuck around until sunrise to watch Edana rise from ash.

“Not much farther.” Godrick’s voice had hardened with tightly veiled anger.

I hadn’t realized why we neared Capitol until we arrived at an inconspicuous cottage, held together by splintering beams. Moss consumed the sunken roof, yet light still shimmered from inside.

Questions flitted through my mind, but I bit my tongue, gripping the hilt of my dagger with my good hand. We were a few days’ travel from where Godrick said the entrance to the Black Veins would be, so this couldn’t be that.

When he’d told us where he thought she was, I’d been so choked by my fucking demon, its grimy claws crushing my throat so viciously, my broken fist had connected with the closest wall.

My hand was obliterated now, utterly unusable. Iaso had offered to heal it to the best of her abilities, but I refused. I didn’t need two hands to throw a blind over everyone; I did need that physical pain to think and function.

Peeking around the side of the house, I found nothing but overgrown bushes and vines devouring the entire wall. “Does someone…live here?”

“Let’s find out,” Godrick answered, the anger not so veiled anymore.

My head swiveled to him, stunned. Lee flanked him, his expression matching Godrick’s tone, his arms crossed over his chest and spine straight.

Godrick gave one rap on the front door, and a slurred voice shouted from inside before we heard shuffling, a loud thump followed by a grunt, then the door flung open, held by a man swaying on his feet.

“What do you want?” he asked, blinking rapidly before he focused on Godrick’s face. The color drained from his cheeks, his glassy eyes widening in recognition. Not even a breath later, Lee had him by the throat as he backed him into the house.

“Who is this?” I asked, but no one answered. They simply followed them into the house. With one final glance around, I scanned the area, entered, and shut the door behind us.

“W-wait,” the man cried when Lee slammed him down in a chair, and Godrick stood behind him, terrifyingly large and darkened by shadows, his face devoid of any light as he looped a rope around the man’s neck.

Lee crouched in front of him, his head tilted to the side. “Where’s your daughter, Lyren, hmm?”

“My daughter…” Lyren sat straighter, his brows pulled together. “Livvy?”

Lee’s body tensed, his knuckles going white where he gripped the armrests, and cracks shot through the wood. “Do you have another daughter?”

“No.” Lyren attempted to drop his forehead to his hand, but the rope prevented any movement. He tugged at it before sighing and lifting his hand to his face instead. “No, I don’t… I don’t know where she is.”

Godrick cinched the rope tight enough to jerk Lyren’s head back, a choked gargle leaving his lips.

He clawed at the rope, but it dug into his skin; his futile attempts left streaks of red around the unwavering noose.

When his face paled and eyes bulged, Godrick released it, and Lyren sucked in a sharp breath.

“You were supposed to protect her,” Godrick seethed.

“And where were you?” Lyren scoffed, rubbing his throat, chest heaving. “Strolling around Ravaryn?”

“I left as we agreed . You insisted I leave Livvy here, so you could ‘hide’ her among the common folk in plain sight, that she’d be in more danger among the Fae.” He twisted the rope again, and it slowly got tighter. “I was a fucking fool. ”

“He abused her,” Lee ground out, the armrest splintering. He stood, picking the pieces from his palm. “He hurt her, made her provide for him . She worked her childhood away to keep him alive.”

Godrick went utterly still. Not even his chest rose and fell. The burly man had become a statue, his eyes distant before his attention fell to Lyren. “Abused?”

“No. No, I did no such thing. She wanted to do it. She wanted?—”

The rope cinched again, his throat wrenched. Blood vessels burst along his neck, but more notably, his eyes. The whites stained with red until he looked like a blood-crazed monster. Lyren clawed and choked, gasping for air that never came.

“I’m sure she wanted to be a kid. To have a childhood and be safe. To be happy.” Godrick walked around the chair and sank to meet Lyren’s gaze when he started to go limp. “Alivia Stirling, second of her name, will reign, and you’ll never live to see that day.”

Reign?

Lyren groaned as his eyes fluttered open again. They didn’t meet Godrick’s eyes with disdain, though, or even fear. No, I recognized the…relief.

I jerked my gaze away before Lee snapped his neck in one swift crack. The body slumped to the floor with a sickening thud—a distinct sound.

Doran’s body had slumped to the ground, too.

Suddenly out of breath, I gasped again and again, scrunching my eyes against flashes of Doran’s body.

A trail of blood had stained the grass behind us as I dragged him. We just needed to find a wagon or a sled or?—

He released a pained moan, and I gasped, dropping to my knees. “Doran? Oh Goddess, hold on. Just hold on. Iaso is close by.”

“D, I’m not… Iaso cannot…” He struggled through each word, his expression twisting like each syllable wrenched an invisible knife in his gut. “I love…you.”

“No, she’s here, and she will help.” My voice held none of the determination I felt. Instead, it came out broken and hoarse, each sound choked by a sob.

Tears dripped onto Doran’s face, and I wiped them away quickly, but when I met his eyes again, they stared up through the trees.

Wrong.

They looked wrong.

“Doran?” I whispered.

No response.

“Doran?” I asked again, taking his hand and clutching it to my chest. “Doran? Doran!”

I couldn’t stop repeating his name. It echoed in my ears over and over. He was my brother, my twin, my other half.

He couldn’t be dead.

He couldn’t be dead, because he’d spent our childhood being anything but a child.

He couldn’t be dead, because he hadn’t lived yet. He hadn’t learned to swim like he’d wanted to. He hadn’t found his mate or returned home. He hadn’t settled down or formed a wrinkle or owned a pet or had a child.

He couldn’t be dead, because he was Doran, the invincible, selfless, loving brother. The man who taught me how to be brave, how to fight, and stand up for myself.

He could not be dead.

“Doran?” another voice asked, a male voice.

I spun around and fell back on my ass with a gasp. A tall Fae man stood over us, alone and impeccably untouched by war, not a drop of blood or a hair out of place.

He stepped closer to look over me, and for some reason, I shielded Doran’s body with the intensity of a feral feline. If this man took one step closer, I would lunge. I would bleed him.

His gaze traced the trail of blood with unease, his face blanching and spine straight. He followed it to Doran’s face, and his eyes narrowed before widening. “Doran.”

“Delphia!”

Doran’s face went hazy, the image of that day cracking and falling to pieces, but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to leave Doran so soon. He needed me.

“No.” My voice sounded distant.

“Delphia.” Someone shook my shoulders, and I shoved at them, my shattered hand useless but excruciating.

“Delphia.” Two palms found my cheeks, and his words were softer. “Open your eyes and find where you are, when you are.”

My throat burned. I didn’t want to. I wanted to return to Doran. I wanted to go with Doran. None of this would have happened had I just gone with Doran that day, or better yet, taken his place.

He could have protected them, where I sacrificed them.

“Open,” the voice commanded.

I did, and a tear slipped past my lashes. Not the first, it would seem, as my cheeks were already soaked beneath Godrick’s hands. We sat on our knees on the floor, in the same position I’d hovered over Doran.

I met Godrick’s brown eyes, his brows furrowed. A father stared back at me, an unfamiliar sight, and a sob nearly choked me before I shoved the suffocating emotion down.

“Are you all right?” Godrick asked.

I resisted the urge to look at the dead body mere feet away. Godrick’s switch from murderous to this had been instantaneous, and it left me reeling. I couldn’t understand how he wasn’t reeling.

Yet I didn’t say anything, not a word. Instead, I nodded once and took his hand. He pulled me to my feet, my legs weak but steady enough. Then, I felt them, the eyes . They all studied me for a split second, Iaso’s gaze heavier than the rest, searching and flaying my mind open beneath her scrutiny.

My heart lurched into my throat, but I rolled my eyes and motioned to the door. “Can we go now?”

I didn’t want them to see me. I didn’t want their pity or even their concern. The only thing I wanted was for them to look the fuck away. My skin itched, and I wanted to crawl out of it.

I opened the front door and gestured outside, desperation easily disguised as frustration. “Move.”

With that, they finally, finally exited, and I released a shaky exhale, letting my shoulders slump.

This wasn’t the first time I’d gotten lost in a flashback.

It wasn’t even the tenth time, the twentieth, but my memories only revealed themselves like this, so I welcomed them in a way.

I couldn’t remember what happened that day on my own, and thus, I was left to slowly piece it together with each flashback.

Each time I went back, I saw a little more, but this was the first time I’d seen another person there—someone who recognized Doran.

This was also the first time anyone else had witnessed me lost in a memory.

Thana had seen the aftermath, sure, but I’d done a good enough job hiding it from her.

Then, shockingly, the flashbacks had stopped for the most part while I was fighting—or perhaps I was too drunk to remember them.

Either way, the physical pain held the emotional pain at bay for a time.

I knocked over a burning candle before following the others out. Godrick stared back at Lyren, shaking his head with a long exhale, until I slammed the door shut.

Orange light swelled in the windows until it latched onto the thatch roof and broke free. Flames lapped at the decrepit wood—the only light in a dark, moonless night.

We slipped back into the tree line and continued as if nothing had happened, like they hadn’t just killed Livvy’s father, like they hadn’t said Livvy would reign.

Rule Auryna?

I glanced over my shoulder at Godrick, a bear of a man, both tall and wide, covered in dark hair, but elderly.

He had to be nearing his seventies, if not already in them, so he would match the approximate age of the last king.

I tried to wrack my brain for any other information, but I couldn’t recall much, not anything distinguishable.

The only thing I remembered about the former king was that he was known to be a family man, a king who loved his wife and daughters more than his kingdom—a rare occurrence. As a child without parents, that particular bit of information had always stuck with me.

He’d said Elora was his daughter, so what did that make her? Was she…royalty? Did Ara know any of this? I had a feeling she didn’t.

If he were the king and Elora his daughter, then Livvy’s mother must have been Elora’s sister, and Livvy his granddaughter.

Another realization struck me.

The king had given his crown to a stranger, betraying not only his entire bloodline but his daughter. He’d been manipulated into doing so.

Was this that man? Had Adonis manipulated him into hurting the ones he loved, too?

I didn’t look away from Godrick until he lifted his gaze to meet mine. He held it long enough for me to see the redness in his eyes and the wetness on his cheeks, and I knew. I just knew.

I looked at a family man without a family.

I whipped my face forward again, watching Iaso’s sure steps over the forest floor, and clenched my fist until my nails bit into my palm. When beads of warmth met my fingertips, I unclenched it and wiped it on my trousers, wincing at the sting.

Physical pain was always easier.