Page 43 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

ROGUE

S hall I come now? Guardian’s question floated into my head.

Ara slept on a thick bed of moss, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, her face relaxed. This might have been the first time she’d been truly at ease since she’d returned to me, and I couldn’t fathom breaking her peace.

Not yet.

It was late morning, the birdsong bright as it drifted over the flowering wetland, the scent exactly as I remembered: her scent.

Hundreds of blooms danced in the gentle breeze, the air here still warm, stuck in perpetual spring.

Hummingbirds flitted from bud to bud, followed by fluttering butterfly wings.

It felt like a lifetime ago that we’d found ourselves swarmed by those butterflies.

My chest was warm too, despite the lingering ache. The Fae flame flickered as if it’d never been snuffed out, rekindled by the flare of panic and hurt in those last few moments on the ship.

She tried to leave.

She tried to leave me, and not because someone was forcing her. No, she made the choice. She decided to leave of her own free will, because she wanted to.

There had been a split second, in the moments between heartbeats, between her lightning strikes and thrashing waves, I thought she was trying to…to kill herself, to throw herself into the ocean and be rid of this life altogether.

It was the worst moment of my entire life.

It broke something in me—or freed something. The Fae flame roared back to life in an all-consuming inferno, and I’d decided if she were leaving this realm, then I was, too. I would follow her anywhere, to every corner of the world, to every realm, and across the veil.

So, I threw myself overboard and saw her expression. In her fall, in her choice , she was painfully free.

Then, it all went black until I relived that night and saw what Vaelor and Drakyth attempted. They’d failed, but knowing they tried, that someone out there cared, made the memories feel less…lonely.

In Vaelor’s failure, though, his daughter succeeded. His brave, resilient, beautiful daughter had saved me more times than I could count, and I would never be able to adequately thank her.

When my chest grew too tight, I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, tilting my face to the sun’s warmth, flattening my hands into the bed of moss.

The emotions I’d stifled clawed at me all at once, demanding that I feel each and every one I missed.

It was too much to process, too many feelings, too much regret and shame.

There were so many things to think through, too many things I did and said that warranted a hundred apologies, but I couldn’t think about any of it. Not right now. Not here.

Here, the only thing that existed was her.

She’d brought us here. Her mind might not remember our time, but her soul did. Adonis couldn’t reach her there, in the depths of her heart, where I’d managed to wedge myself while she’d taken ownership of mine.

Rolling onto my back, I tucked a hand behind my head and stared up. An ache settled deep in my rib cage and spread throughout my back.

I’d give anything to be able to fly up there, free and at my own mercy.

I craved the wind on my skin and beneath my wings, the thin, cold air, the free fall while knowing it only took one thrust of my wings to catch an upwards draft.

I hadn’t just lost my wings. I lost my freedom, the only freedom I’d ever granted myself.

Flying wyvern-back was useful, but it didn’t fill my lungs with relief.

Now, flying only rubbed salt in my wounds—emotionally and physically, it seemed.

White hot pain lanced the scars each time we were in the air, and while I knew it had to be in my head, I didn’t know how to stop it.

Everything I loved about it before had been tainted and warped: the sky smaller, the air icier, the fall greater, the joy nonexistent. It didn’t clear my head—rather, it filled it with visions of what I would never have again.

The scars burned, an itch crawling across the stretched skin, and I rolled my shoulders. I didn’t feel the need to bleed them again, but they still didn’t feel…right.

I didn’t think they ever would, but the thought of living hundreds of years like this—ground bound—had me fighting another wave of panic-induced suffocation.

I was ground bound, and Adonis either had a healing ability beyond what anyone had ever witnessed, or he shared the same immortality as his mother.

My heart beat in my throat, my fingers splaying in the soft moss, cool for a split second before rapidly heating beneath my burning palms.

How have we gotten here?

How did my kidnapping of a human woman lead to this ?

We had unwillingly stepped into a game of gods and monsters, the ignorant mortals who’d wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time, flying blind in an attempt to win the war we were never meant to survive.

The odds were impossible, but losing was not an option. Sacrificing the realm was not an option. Not surviving was not an option.

I kept my gaze trained on the sky above, blue and brilliant—clear. The sky was clear, and we would survive.

Adonis is Calypso’s son, I said to all the wyverns, though I was sure they already knew. She is…something, but he is still half Fae, and Fae can die. We only need to kill the immortal half first.

Seconds passed with no reply, but their tension rose.

An elder wyvern, his voice deep and ancient, hardly more than a growl, finally asked, How might one go about such a feat?

I said, Apparently, there is a weapon—a weapon that can kill anything.

Anything? Aurum asked. We are anything. Wyverns. Mother. What is this weapon that can hurt us?

Due to his age, his communication was more chaotic. Images and feelings filtered through with his words: a bird’s eye view of a snow-capped forest, a falcon flying far below, and fear. Stark fear.

I don’t know , I confessed. No one does…yet. Have any of you heard of it before?

No, the ancient wyvern said. We’ve not had much interaction with mortals throughout our history. Our only line of communication is through the kings we’ve chosen. We know what they knew.

I pressed my palms into my eyes until I saw stars. And what did they know?

That good prevails. As will you.

I scoffed and threw my hands back to the ground.

A female wyvern stationed in the southern portion of Auryna said, We may not be able to understand the language of mortals, but we feel things.

I feel the liminal moon looming closer in my wings when I fly beneath the blanket of night.

We feel the presence of death when the land is stained with tragedy.

We feel the energy shift when your mate wills it so. We can help.

Guardian’s frustration boiled. We can’t even find the bastard.

The female recoiled for a brief second before replying with, We are powerful beasts. Not all-powerful. Does that mean we should not try?

I mulled over her words, letting them sink into my psyche.

See what you can find, I said to her. We need to discover the weapon before Calypso. I don’t trust her.

Agreement rippled down the connections, reaffirming my concerns. Wyverns were excellent judges of character, or so they said.

Where do we begin the search?

I recounted Calypso and Terran’s stories, and the female wyvern turned straight for that cavern. I’ll see what I can sense. If it hasn’t been too terribly long, perhaps the scent of whoever stole it will remain. Have faith, my King.

“Faith,” I whispered to myself. “I can have faith.”

With that, the wyverns pulled their minds away one by one, all but Guardian.

He flew overhead, blotting out the sun before he landed, carefully avoiding the flowers and sinking into the grass. He crept closer until he could lay his massive head on the knoll we sat upon, his snout mere inches from Ara’s feet.

Your Fae flame has returned, he said while his amber gaze roamed over her sleeping form. How? You are the first Draig we’ve ever seen do such a thing.

He huffed a sound of worry and scooted closer to Ara until his head was close to hers, his long, serpentine neck lying alongside her length. Normally, I’d force him to give her space, but he only sought comfort.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I whispered. “It just…happened when she… Well, you saw.”

We felt your agony, then you disappeared. Gone. As if you no longer existed. As if you were dead. A faint ripple of grief reached down our connection before he reigned it in. Those on the Hearth were ready to mobilize, but you reappeared seconds later.

I didn’t know what to say at first. They were concerned for more than their king. They worried about…me?

Never do that again, he snapped. Suffocate the flame, I mean. Never leave me—us again. This version of you is much more tolerable.

Don’t worry, Guardian. It’ll never happen again.

I rolled onto my back, tucked one arm around Ara, and the other behind my head.

Closing my eyes, I breathed deep, and she filled my lungs, reaching into every crevice of my being.

Sunlight, birdsong, the steady sound of Guardian’s breathing, Ara tucked into my side—for the first time in three long months, the tension in my body eased, seeping out into the soft moss bed with each breath.

We would put an end to Adonis’s terror. I felt it in my gut, in my soul, because this was what we fought tooth and nail for.

All we wanted was peace, and we fucking deserved it.

Aurum’s mind slipped back in, his anxiety palpable, but he didn’t say anything. He hovered nearby like a worried child, unsure what to ask his parent to ease his fear.

I sealed him off just enough to limit that feeling from becoming my own and asked, Are you all right?

Again, he didn’t say anything, but broken images filtered through: a ship deck, an ocean, Iaso fighting tears as Ewan kissed her hand. Then, he pulled me through his eyes, but it was the first time he’d ever done that, and his inexperience left me reeling.

My head spun, my vision blurred as he struggled to hold me, and I flashed between his view and mine.