Page 53 of Wrath Of Suns And Shadows (The Osparia #2)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kade

I watched as a sudden stillness overcame Emelyn’s body and her eyes went vacant. Something had changed. Something was wrong. Emelyn wasn’t Emelyn anymore.

In the blink of an eye, her hand lashed out like a viper against the bewildered Sky Elf, who narrowly evaded with agile grace.

Yet, he was not swift enough. Her second blow found its mark, her fingers coiling around his throat like iron vines.

Confusion etched deep on his brow, the realization dawning too late.

“Emelyn, stop!” My voice was a silent scream to her mind.

I was desperate to reach her, to shatter whatever invisible force had ensnared her will.

But my thoughts crashed against an impenetrable wall, the mental link we shared severed by something unseen.

Knowing that I was powerless to stop what she was doing, an icy terror gripped me.

I couldn’t protect her from this.

“Emelyn!” I pleaded again, my voice lost to her.

An eerie silence drowned out the roars of the crowd. Her grip tightened like a vice around the Sky Elf’s neck. I watched, transfixed with horror, as she clenched and twisted, burrowing deep into flesh and muscle.

A sickening rip that would haunt the darkest recesses of nightmares broke through the quiet. Blood—bright and terrible—erupted violently from the Sky Elf’s throat. Crimson sprayed her face, and the crowd roared at the sight.

The Sky Elf’s eyes, wide with shock and betrayal, met hers for a fleeting moment before he collapsed, his hands clawing at the gaping wound where his throat once was.

He gurgled, choking on his blood that pooled beneath him, his wings fluttering weakly, a final, failing attempt to rise above his fate.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, Emelyn returned to herself. Her body slackened. Her gaze fell to her hands, painted with the life of her actions. The tremors started in her fingertips, a subtle tremble of horror that traveled up her arms and seized her entire body.

“Emelyn,” I whispered as I moved to her side, my voice barely audible over the roar of blood in my ears. My heart fractured as I saw her devastation mirrored in the depths of her haunted emerald eyes.

But she didn’t hear me, or she chose not to.

“What have I done? What have I . . .” Her voice splintered through my mind, each syllable laced with horror. She dropped to her knees and clutched onto the elf, her hands desperately seeking to heal him.

“I didn’t . . . I-I—” she stammered, her words shattering my heart. “Take off my cuffs, please! I can— I can heal him. I can fix this. I—”

“Emelyn—” I tried again. My voice broke through the heavy air, thick with despair and the iron scent of blood.

“No, no, no.” She sobbed, holding the elf, trying to keep all of his blood in his body. He held up his bloody, trembling hand. “It’s okay . . . ,” he signed, and she bellowed out a cry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I—

Her words fell from her lips and bounced off the walls of my mind in uneven sobs as she gripped onto him.

Tears carved silver trails through the grime and blood on her face, her lips trembling with each hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, her voice a ghost of its former strength, barely audible above the din of the onlookers’ excited murmurs.

The elf’s eyes dimmed to distant stars as he took his last breath. Emelyn clung to him, her hands slick with crimson regret. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, louder this time.

A guttural cry tore from Emelyn’s throat, raw and haunting, echoing off the walls.

It was the sound of a soul fracturing. Emelyn shattered, all her pieces scattered like broken glass.

My father had done it. He had broken her, just like he had said he would, and it fucking destroyed me in ways I couldn’t put into words.

I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms. She pushed at my chest and flailed her arms to get away from me as sobs overtook her body. The elf’s lifeless form lay there as I gripped her against me and started walking back to her room.

I held her firmly, but tears silently fell from her face. She had gone expressionless, seemingly lost in thought and grief. I quickly made it back to the room and shut the door behind me.

I moved us to the bathroom. My hands shook as I peeled the cursed cuffs from her wrists, the metal clinking hollowly against the countertop.

I moved and started the bath. She stood motionless, doll-like, as I stripped away her garments stained by tragedy.

There was no resistance, no spark of defiance that so defined my Emelyn.

She merely existed within the eye of her own storm.

I moved her to the tub, and she stepped in and lowered into the water.

I watched, heart splintering, as it turned a ghostly pink.

I quickly cleaned off all the evidence of what had happened, drained the water, and refilled it again as Emelyn sat in the tub, draping her arms around her knees and resting her head there with puffy, tear-smeared eyes.

She looked at me then. Her empty emerald eyes bored into my fucking soul, and her face crumpled.

“I killed him,” she whispered as her breathing became uneven again. “I killed him,” she said a little louder as the sobs racked through her again. I quickly climbed in behind her in the tub and wrapped my arms around her. The warm water seeped into my clothes.

I held her firmly against my chest as she cried. I ran my fingers soothingly through her hair as tears of my own slipped quietly from my own eyes at seeing her pain. My other hand ran circles over her back as she shifted onto her side to lie on my chest.

“Shhh,” I whispered. Her body convulsed with sobs, and I anchored her to me. Even as my own tears betrayed the facade of strength, I struggled to maintain.

I tried to whisper promising words from my mind to hers, doing my best to keep everything inside, hoping it would help soothe all the broken pieces of her soul.

I’d sit here until she was a semblance of put together again.

However long it took. I’d do anything for her.