Page 21

DAHLIA

I dream of blood and fire and agony, of crimson eyes and dripping fangs. I flinch away, as if I can outrun the nightmares. No. Not nightmares. Memories .

I gasp and shoot upright, a scream caught in my throat. Warm, firm hands clasp my shoulders.

“My Lady. Dahlia ,” Takara corrects. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

I meet the vampire’s gaze, but I can’t really see her. All I can see are the bodies, the blood soaking the earth, the menacing glee in those crimson eyes.

“You need to breathe, Dahlia.”

I try, but I can’t find a way to get the air into my lungs. I claw at my chest, gasping. It feels as if my ribs are closing in, squeezing my insides, stabbing me and crushing me as they shrink smaller and smaller…

Something pricks my arm and a moment later, blissful darkness swallows me again.

“Keeva, you must wake. You must …”

I hear Alaric’s voice drifting soft as the wind through my mind. Or, I think I do. It’s probably just a dream, but I cling to his voice, wrapping my arms around it and holding on as strongly as I can, letting it buoy me in the dark waves trying to drag me beneath the sea, down into the memories again. I push against them, clutching at the soft sound of Alaric whispering Keeva over and over and over…

I’m more prepared this time as I slowly rise out of unconsciousness. The memories are still there, but they aren’t so sharp and intense now, not enough to overwhelm me completely. Even now, I still cling to Alaric’s soft whispers. The ones I most surely concocted in my mind, but I cling to them all the same.

I blink my eyes open slowly. The room is dim, only a fire burning low in the hearth lighting the space, but everything looks clear and sharp.

Takara sighs in relief.

“There you are.” I try to push myself up, but Takara reaches forward. “Here, let me help you.” I try to protest that I’m fine, but I’ll admit that I’m exhausted and weary down to my bones, and decide to take the vampire’s assistance. She helps to ease me up into a sitting position, my back against the smooth wooden headboard, and a second later, a cup of water is being pressed to my lips, a touch too forcefully. I take in Takara’s worried dark eyes, the strain clear on her beautiful face, and I take the cup from her, drinking deep.

Takara watches worriedly as I drain the cup and take a deep, settling breath before speaking.

“What…how…” I rub my face, trying to organize the hundreds of questions trying to escape my mouth all at once. I settle on the most important: “Is everyone ok?” The memory of Victor’s body lying limply in the dirt, blood soaking the ground around him, of Kane roaring at me to run while he fought two of those creatures, rears up behind my eyes and my chest twists painfully. I rub the heel of my hand there while I wait for the answer, dread hanging over me like the hangman’s noose.

“Isaiah, Kane, and Descartes were slain,” Takara says, bowing her head. Grief floods through me, my eyes burning with tears. I know that those in the army view a death in battle as a great honor, but I can’t help the spears of guilt stabbing my heart. They had died because of me . They’d only been on that road because I’d wanted to go to the village. Kane had tried to fight two of those things off alone so that I could run. It’s a long moment before I can push past the lump in my throat and speak again.

“And everyone else? Viktor…I saw him fall…” I swallow hard as memories rise but I try to push them away.

“He’s alright. He was injured and knocked unconscious, but he’s already healed.” I nod. Healed . That reminds me…

I look down and gasp.

“How…?” I run a finger over the thick pink scar on my bicep, the spot where there had been a gruesome wound not long ago. I move and flex my fingers, turning my arm this way and that. I’m a bit sore, just a dull ache, but I’m truly healed.

“Alaric gave you his blood. Your injury was grievous and you’d lost nearly too much blood. It was the only thing to do to save your life.”

More memories rise then, ones I wasn’t sure were real until this moment. Alaric had saved me. He’d taken the Revenant’s head and then he’d cradled my face so gently, spoken my name so tenderly…No. That couldn’t be right. I had to have imagined that part. He did save me, though. I know that much for certain.

“How did he even know to come?”

“You’ll have to ask him that,” Takara says, sounding nearly as tired as I feel. “You need to eat something before you sleep again. No arguments,” she adds sternly, and my lips curl into a small smile as I bob my head in obedience. Takara grabs a tray off of the table across the room and brings it over, watching me like a hawk as I eat the cheese and fruit and cold chicken. I don’t taste much of anything, really. I’m still so…numb, so raw.

I’d been attacked by Revenants. I’d seen people die all around me. I can still smell their blood and hear their cries of agony. I’d nearly had my arm taken clean off by a sword and apparently nearly died as a result. The food almost comes back up, but I force it to stay down, taking slow, deep breaths in and out through my nose. Takara hands me more water and it helps. Eventually, I calm down enough to speak again.

“How long was I asleep? How long as it been since…since it happened?”

“Nearly three days.”

“Three days??” I repeat, incredulous.

“Despite Alaric’s blood, your body needed time and rest to heal. Your mind, as well,” she adds softly. “It was no small thing that happened to you.” Takara squeezes my hand and I squeeze it back, holding on to it for dear life. I wonder if she still remembers her attack after all these years. Had she been as afraid as I’d been? As…helpless?

“I heard you scream,” I say softly, tears stinging my eyes again. “After the fighting started. Everything was chaos and I didn’t know what to do but I heard you yell my name and then you screamed in pain and I tried to get to you and?—”

Takara places her hand on my cheek, eyes shining.

“I was worried for you too, Dahlia.” She leans forward and places a soft kiss on my forehead. When she pulls back, she tries to look stern. “Do not do that to me again.”

I huff out a small laugh, though the sound is a bit hollow.

“I’ll try my best.” She nods and clears her throat, clearly forcing the emotion away.

“Your friends came to see you. Wesley and Nova. They came the minute word began to spread through the camp.” That made the strange, hollow feeling in my chest ease a bit. I lost friends, but I still have others here who care about me. I’ll go see them as soon as I can. “There will be funeral rites for those slain at dusk. The High General thought that you might want to attend, so he held the ceremony off until you woke. I was fairly certain it would be today that you finally pushed through the darkness.”

My eyes prick again, both at the thought of laying those who gave their lives protecting me to rest, but also at Alaric’s kindness. I wonder again how he knew to come—the bond because of the blood he’s taken from me, perhaps? But…no, he must have already been on the way before he realized something was wrong to get there so quickly—we were still at least an hour from the camp when we were attacked, probably closer to two. Why would he be riding towards the town? An unpleasant thought regarding the blood house drifts into my mind and I forcefully cut the thought off at the knees.

Either way, he was kind in holding the funerals until I could attend, somehow knowing that I would want to be there to say goodbye.

“Yes, I’d like to attend.” I glance towards the window but the curtains are closed tightly and I have no idea what time it might be. “How long do I have to get ready?” I start to throw my feet over the edge but Takara stops me, gently pressing me back into the pillow.

“Hours yet. Rest, Dahlia. I’ll wake you when it’s time.” I start to protest—I’ve been sleeping for three days already, apparently—but a wide yawn splits my face and my argument is lost before it’s begun. “Rest,” Takara says again, pointedly. I nod and settle back into bed. Takara tucks the covers around me and I’m already nearly asleep, my lids feeling heavy as lead.

“Tell Alaric I said thank you…for…for everything…” I whisper before the darkness welcomes me once more.

The funerals are simple, but beautiful. Alaric’s gaze slips to mine as Takara and I approach the gathering and my pulse races even as my entire body seems to sigh in relief, practically melting with it, with each step that I take closer to him. All the blood , I realize. I’m even more connected to him now than ever before because of the blood he’d given to heal me. His eyes burn with too many things for me to name, but eventually he simply inclines his head in greeting as I take my place in the first row of soldiers beside him. A place of honor.

Takara slips in beside me, clasping my hand and squeezing gently. Three wooden pyres have been constructed, and atop each one is a body of one of my guards—of one of my friends. My throat feels thick and acid churns in my belly, my eyes already pricking with tears, but I try to hold them back. I need to be strong, like the thousands of soldiers behind me.

On some signal I don’t see, Elias steps forward, a torch of rowan wood in his hands.

“A death in battle is a death well given. Descartes Moreau, we mourn you and honor you by battling another day. Vale, brother.”

A seemingly endless echo of vale, brother rumbles through the lines of soldiers. Tears slide silently down my face and I grip Takara’s hand tightly as Elias touches the end of his torch to Descartes’ pyre. The flames dance up the wood, sparking and jumping until they’re so high they seem to touch the clouds above. He moves to the next pyre and repeats the words.

“Isaiah Burrowleaf…”

Vale, brother.

“Kane Aurelius…”

Vale, brother.

The tears continue, though I manage not to sob. I feel empty and hollow as I say my silent goodbyes, thanking them for what they gave to protect me. Telling them that I’ll miss them. Telling them I’m sorry.

After the last pyre is lit, the soldiers all bow their heads and thump their fists over their chests three times in perfect synchrony. That’s apparently all there is to it. They begin to leave their formation in quiet, practiced precision, but I don’t move. I stare at the flames for what feels like forever, and, to my surprise, Alaric stays beside me. He doesn’t speak, but his presence beside me is a comfort that I can’t help but cling to.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly as the flames finally begin to die, smoke and ashes sifting on the wind towards the mountains.

Alaric turns to me, but before he can say anything, one of the men calls his name. He turns towards the voice and before he can turn back again, I walk away. He doesn’t come after me but I don’t expect him to. I find Wesley and Nova waiting on me near the path back to the cabin and Takara tells me she’ll see me in a while, letting me have my time with my friends and, I suspect, going to spend time with Malcom. I squeeze her hand before she walks away, silently thanking her for too many things all at once.

I throw my arms around Wesley’s neck, a fresh wave of tears scalding my eyes.

“Gods, Dahlia, I can’t believe…When I heard what happened…Fuck, I was terrified, ” Wesley confesses, squeezing me almost too tightly. I bury my face in his neck for a long moment and when I pull back, he chucks me under the chin lightly. “I just found you again. Don’t you dare try to leave me already.”

I laugh a little bit through tears before Nova yanks me into a bear hug.

“We were so worried,” she says quietly. She pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. “You’re alright? We heard you almost lost your whole damn arm, that you almost…” She trails off, beautiful face pinched with worry.

I nod. “I am.” Mostly. “My arm is all healed thanks to Alaric’s blood.” I sigh. “It was…scary. Terrifying, actually. I don’t know how you do it, day in and day out.”

“It’s alright to be scared. I still am some days. If you aren’t afraid, you aren’t alive,” Nova assures me.

“But I just…I stood there. I was completely frozen by the fear for far too long.” I shake my head in frustration, remembering how I’d done nothing while the chaos and fighting erupted around me, while the others bled and, in three awful cases, died for me.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Nova says. “Truly. The first time I came face-to-face with a Revenant, I nearly wet myself—well, I would have if I was still human, I mean. I froze, couldn’t even lift my blade. Someone else cut the bastard down before he could gut me like a fish, thankfully. And that was after a year of training at the academy and another here at the camp. So, you shouldn’t feel anything but proud that you even made it out of there alive.”

They ask if I want to go back to Third Quadrant with them, drink until I can’t remember my own name, but I decide to hold on to that offer for another night. I just want to be alone for a bit. We say our goodbyes and make my way to the field behind the cabin, collecting stones as I go.