“Liam is with Isauria in the ballroom, Zelene,” he said in a sympathetic way that came across more as patronizing. “I'm sorry I had to do that, but I needed to weaken you. We have to go. We can talk more on the way.”
“Leave her alone,” Cedwen said with as much force as he could and tried to pull himself off of the ground. “You and I aren't finished yet.”
Braddock ignored him, reaching down and gripping Zelene by the arms then lifting her up. She was limp in his embrace, her legs struggling to carry her own weight. He started to drag her away, but the doorway burst into flames. He turned around slowly to face his opponent. Cedwen had managed to get to his feet, though he leaned on the bed frame for support. Blood covered the side of his head and he still looked like he might be seeing stars, but he held his hand out in front of him, prepared to fight.
“For the record,” Cedwen said with great effort as he struggled to rise to his full height, “I wear my face a lot better than you do. I think it's time I take it back.”
Braddock wrapped his arm around Zelene’s waist and used his free hand to pull his knife from the sheath on his hip and pointed at Cedwen with the blade. “I left you alive once,” he said. “I won't make that mistake again.”
Zelene couldn’t pull free of Braddock’s hold, even though he used only one arm to pull her against his body. She was dizzy and nauseous, and the way his hand splayed across her stomach didn’t help. She knew she couldn’t fight him off, and Cedwen would be too weak to fight him. He could barely stand, and it was clear Braddock was out for blood. The idea terrified her. She clamped down on his wrist, pushing his hand to the ground. She didn’t want to lose anyone else. There was no other choice.
“Don't . . . ” she slurred weakly. “Don't hurt him. I'll go with you quietly, but only if you don’t hurt him. Please.”
Cedwen didn't get a chance to argue this. Varrick burst through the flame barrier with a loud roar. His eyes were blackened from the fear Zelene felt, his skin and clothes charred from pushing his way through the walls of flames that separated him from his ward. Smoke rose from his skin and his smoldering uniform. He sneered, baring his teeth at the boy now holding a knife against Zelene's neck.
“Who do you think is faster, Cyneward? You or my knife?” Braddock challenged, glancing between the warrior and the prince.
Cedwen stumbled over to Varrick, toppling over when he reached him so that he fell into the man's chest. He gripped his leather breastplate, whispering as he made a show of trying to regain his balance. Zelene glanced up to her captor, but Braddock was too busy scanning the room for an exit to notice the exchange.
Varrick helped to steady him, giving him a covert nod. “There's no way out, boy. Drop the knife or die.”
Braddock turned so that they all three circled each other. He stopped his cycle of the room in front of the window, backing over to it and risking a glance down. “I'm a Cahiran, Varrick. I don't give up that easily.”
Zelene watched Cedwen focus intensely on the blade in Braddock's hand. She felt the heat at the same time Braddock did. Braddock released the blade, and she was ready for him. She elbowed him in the ribs and dropped down. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back up, but her hand had already wrapped around the hilt of his dagger. It burned her skin, but she didn't let it go. She turned and plunged it into his gut then pushed herself away, practically falling into Varrick's arms.
Braddock stumbled backwards, holding his wound and looking at her like she had betrayed him. “I believed in you.” He lunged, but Cedwen threw a blast of air at him, sending him flying through the window.
Cedwen sank to the ground, releasing the flames he had been holding in place at the door. He closed his eyes and rested his chin against his chest. Zelene stumbled over to him, Varrick holding her up as they crossed the room. He helped lower her onto the floor next to Cedwen, who looked up with a brief smile before putting his arm around her and letting his head drop once more. She leaned hers against his shoulder, wearily looking up at Varrick as he walked over to the window and looked down to survey the area where Braddock should have crashed.
“He's gone,” he said gruffly, and somehow Zelene hadn’t expected anything less.
***
It was convenient that the fight took place in the leigheas. Bianca went straight to work on both her and Cedwen, whisking him away to his bed as she inspected his head. Zelene hadn't moved from her spot on the floor. She was too tired. She remained curled up against the wall, head resting on the cool stone as she watched the people bustle about around her.
Her father looked even paler than before. He paced the floor in front of her like a guard dog on duty and continually ran a worried hand over his beard. Isauria hovered nearby in complete hysterics, having clairvoyantly witnessed the whole thing.
“I'm fine, Izzy,” Zelene assured her for the millionth time.
Isauria shook her head. “He was going to kill you. That thing that he did with the white light? That's what Kellen did our mother.”
Zelene glanced around, wondering why her mother's ghost was nowhere to be seen, then turned back to her sister. “Yeah, but I'm fine. Varrick saved me.” She smiled at her Cyneward appreciatively, watching as Liam handed him another uniform since his had been burned. “Give him his leather jacket back.”
Varrick lifted a brow at her. “Why?”
She grinned up at him. “Because you deserve it, you badass. You just broke through a wall of fire to get to me. Doesn't get any cooler than that. Unless you have a leather jacket on.”
Varrick chuckled. “She nearly gets killed and she's giving me fashion tips.”
She looked up into Cedwen’s smirking face with relief when he offered her his hand.
“I thought we should talk,” Cedwen said, and he lifted her to her unsteady feet. “Can I walk you to your room?”
She nodded. “I'd like that.” She glanced over to Varrick, signaling him to give them some space. He nodded and gestured for them to go ahead. Once they reached the hallway, she moved to lean against the wall, those few steps taking more out of her than she liked to admit.
“Are you all right?” Cedwen asked and moved to help her.
She shook her head. “I don't know what he did to me, but it was a doozy. I feel like I got hit by a bus. A really big horse with wheels,” she explained in terms he might understand.
“Do you want to stay here and get some rest?”
“No way. I want my bed, stat. Aren't you supposed to be a prince? Help a girl out.”
He couldn't help but laugh at this. “I suppose I'm a little out of practice,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist for support. “I could carry you, if you'd like.”
“I think that's a little bit too romance novel for my taste, thanks,” she retorted as she hobbled along with him. “Thanks for your help. I mean, back there.”
“Just doing my princely duty.”
She stopped, turning her head to look up at him. “Seriously. You risked your life for me. I won't forget that.”
His blush intensified as he looked down at her. “What are friends for if not to save each other’s lives?”
“So I guess now that you know my name, you can really call me a friend, huh?”
“And I learned it before I knew my own,” he teased as though he was the winner of their challenge.
“Yeah, I guess technically you did. So I guess, I owe you one now, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she drew out the word as they passed over the crosswalk leading to her building and she steered him toward the stairs. “You saved my life. Now I have to save yours so we're even.”
He dodged her gaze and turned his attention to the stairs. “There is no way you are going to make it up there on your own.” He leaned her against the wall and gave an exaggerated bow, holding his hand out to her. “Will you permit a prince to carry a lady up the stairs?”
She swatted his hand and rolled her eyes with a smile. “Whatever
. Just do it.”
He scooped her easily into his arms. She put hers around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder with a tired sigh.
“You already have, you know,” he said as he carried her up the flight of stairs leading to her floor.
“Hmm?”
He stopped in front of the entrance to the stairwell and turned his head so that he could look her in the face. “You saved my life already. I was ready to give up on myself when I started remembering things. All of the fights, all of the blood . . . but you saw more in me. You gave me a reason to dig deeper. If you hadn't, I might still be back there wondering who I am. You saved me in more ways than I think I could ever explain to you.”
Zelene swallowed hard as she stared into his earnest eyes, her mouth hanging open as her heart pounded in her chest. “This is it. I mean, this is my floor.”
“Oh,” he said before clearing his throat and lowering her to her feet. He offered her his arm once more and gestured for her to take the lead. “After you, my lady.”
She gripped his arm tightly, feeling more unsteady on her feet than she had before his touching little speech. Her heart clenched with guilt over how it made her feel, which she quickly dismissed. They walked in silence until they reached her door. She hesitated with her hand resting on the doorknob. “Thank you, again. I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other now with the whole possible marriage thing.”
He pulled back in mock offense. “You say that with such doom.” His amusement melted. “I don't want things to change between us. I understand what you said before, about wanting to have a friend that likes you for who you truly are and not your status. Things were easy between us before and I don't want that to change.”
She stuck out her hand for him to shake, which he did even though the action seemed to puzzle him. “Friends.”
His grip tightened as he understood that she was agreeing with him. “Friends,” he echoed. “I'll see you to your bed.”
She glanced at him askew. “Didn't we just agree to be friends?”
“Don't flatter yourself, Duillaine Ainnir,” Cedwen teased. “I prefer your twin, you know.”
“You haven't even met Ariana,” she retorted.
“And yet I still prefer her over you,” he joked and opened the door to her room, helping her inside.
The doors to the antechamber were already wide open and all the laughter died in their throats at the sight. In the middle of the floor, with her hands resting over her chest and her dark hair haloing her head, was Ellowyn.
Zelene pulled away from Cedwen and rushed over to her best friend. She threw herself onto the ground next to her, pulling Ellowyn onto her lap as she tried to shake her awake. “Ellowyn? Ellowyn! Wake up!”
Cedwen slowly made his way over and sank down onto the ground beside Zelene. He placed a hand over Ellowyn's heart, and his face was grief-stricken when he shook his head at Zelene. “I'm so sorry.”
Zelene's chest heaved, his words sinking in, and she slowly turned back to Ellowyn. Her usually tan skin was pallid and cold, and her hand hung limply at her side. Zelene hugged her best friend tighter, gathering her into her arms as she buried her face in her hair and let out a mournful wail.
Varrick rushed into the room, sliding to his knees to inspect Ellowyn himself. He pried Zelene's embrace loose enough to reach for the maid’s bruised neck but there was no pulse. She lifted her gaze to meet his, seeing the reflection of her own helplessness in his eyes.
Zelene turned to the audience building in her doorway. “Do something,” she ordered them angrily. “Terrena! Get Terrena!” The crowd parted enough for her older cousin to come forward. “You can save her,” she said confidently through her sobs. “You're powerful. More powerful than any other healer. Please. Please help her.”
Terrena knelt down beside her, resting one hand on the girl's head and placing the other on her chest. She closed her eyes, brows furrowed in concentration, and then looked up regretfully. “She's gone, Zelene.”
Cedwen rested his hand on her back and swiped at the stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. “We'll give her a proper burial. She deserves that.”
“No,” Zelene said as she ground her teeth together. “She isn't gone. I can get her to come back. Ellowyn? Ellowyn,” she cried out. “Ellowyn! Come back!” She looked around, her shoulders trembling. She searched every face in the room for Ellowyn's, but she couldn’t understand why Ellowyn wouldn’t appear. Maybe if she could call her spirit back to her body, Terrena could make it right. She could fix this. Together, they could bring her back. “Please come back, Ellowyn.” Her gaze flicked around the room wildly until it rested back with Ellowyn again, and the truth became clear. “Don’t leave me. Please,” she sobbed and held Ellowyn’s limp body closer. “Please…please…someone bring her back.”
Solanna knelt down in front of her. “We need to take her away now, Zelene. There's nothing more we can do for her.”
Zelene frantically shook her head, hugging her friend to her chest protectively. “No,” she screamed as the Siegwards came in and tried to pry Ellowyn's body from her arms.
Cedwen stepped in, his arms around her tightly as he pulled her back into his chest. “You have to let them take her, Zelene. They'll let us see her again, I promise.”
“Where are you taking her?” she bellowed, struggling against Cedwen's grip. She stilled when Ellowyn's dark head disappeared around the doorframe with Bianca close behind. She let out another wail of despair, then collapsed into Cedwen's arms.
“Get these people out of here,” Meridel ordered. “Give the child some privacy to mourn.”
Zelene watched everyone shuffle out, still shaking her head in denial and sending up whispered pleas for Ellowyn to come back. She stilled when the Duillaine Banair turned to leave and their paths were blocked by the three of the younger generation.
Terrena stepped forward, her hands balled into fists. “You will give her a proper burial,” she said, accentuating each word so that there would be no question as to whether or not it was merely a request. “Whatever your beliefs of the Tainted, she was one of this family. And you will honor her as such. Are we clear?”
Sylvanna stared at her incredulously but a sympathetic glance back to the weeping Zelene stilled her temper as well as her adherence to the rules. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “She will be given the highest honor. You have my word.”
“No,” Zelene interjected. “You can't bury her . . . tell them Solanna,” she cried out. “Tell them they can’t bury her or I won’t be able to bring her back. We can bring her back. We have magic . . . magic can bring her back.”
Solanna tearfully approached Zelene and placed a hand on her cheek. “I wish with all my heart that it could. We don’t have that kind of power, Zelene. Not even you.” She turned to Varrick. “Cyneward, I give you permission to stay close to your ward tonight. She’ll need you.”
Zelene barely heard Solanna. She sat on the ground, cradled in Cedwen’s arms while he whispered words of comfort in her hair. She watched the people file out of her room, searching for any sign of Ellowyn, and growing more numb with each moment that she failed to appear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The week following Ellowyn's murder had been quiet. The rest of Anscombe moved forward, welcoming the excitement the Tullians brought with them as guests. The world outside of the city center seemed to go on, buzzing with anticipation of the upcoming saoire festival and the Wassail ceremony to follow. Inside the walls of the city center was a different matter entirely. The atmosphere was somber, laughter scarce. Even those who didn't know Ellowyn seemed to be in mourning for her. It was hard for anyone in contact with the young grieving Duillaine Ainnir to not feel her sadness.
Terrena felt it even now, as she sat with the Duillaine and the Council to discuss upcoming events. Looking around the table, she could tell that most of them felt it. Devland and Morissey were respectfully somber, having never even met Ellowyn. Leone and Arland held
the heartbreaks of their daughters close, while Nolan was wrecked by his own sorrow. Even Sylvanna appeared shaken by recent events as she spoke.
“There is the matter of the Tainted girl's burial that we must speak of,” Sylvanna said, her tone surprisingly kind.
“Ellowyn,” Nolan corrected her with gritted teeth. “She had a name and it was Ellowyn. Not Tainted girl.”
Sylvanna cleared her throat. “My apologies. We must discuss Ellowyn's burial rites. We have been waiting for Zelene to recover, but I think we can all agree that giving her some sort of closure might help her to heal. The sooner we give that to her, the better.”
“She's not going to just get over it,” Rhaya said. Her voice was soft with her own grief, and her eyes were red-rimmed from nonstop crying since Ellowyn's death. Though she also mourned Ellowyn, Terrena knew that being able to sense everyone else's emotions also took a toll on her sister. “And she's going to need a lot more time than there is between now and your festival.”
“We know,” Meridel conceded. “I don't believe your sister will be offended if Zelene decides not to attend her Wassail.”
“Of course not,” Terrena agreed, appalled at the idea that Zelene would be expected to attend. “How could I possibly think of such a thing when Zelene's heart has continually been ripped into pieces since her return? I'd just as soon put it all off. It doesn't seem right to celebrate in the wake of such loss.”
Leone patted her hand. “If only we had that choice, my darling.”
Terrena sat back against her chair and folded her hands in her lap, knowing her father was right. They didn't have a choice. “Very well. What do you have in mind to honor Ellowyn?”
“I thought we might honor her by reflecting on her life. Perhaps Zelene might say a few words,” Meridel suggested.
“I don't think Zelene will be up to the task,” Arland said. “Perhaps someone else might speak on her behalf.”
“We will.” Nolan tapped his fingers on the table, never making eye contact with anyone. “Ellowyn was one of us. I believe the same offer should be made to Tate, Bianca, and Cedwen.”
Heirs of War, Crown of Flames Page 31
