33. Thirty-Three

Thirty-Three

The weight of heartbreak was too much for my trembling limbs to bear.

I crumpled to the ground, my knees slamming onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor.

My hands reached out in a desperate attempt to catch myself, but they too gave way under the heavy weight of these flooding feelings.

My vision blurred as hot tears spilled down my cheeks, clouding the details of the room around me. Every breath felt like a knife in my chest, each inhale scraping against raw emotion.

I struggled to make sense of the overwhelming despair that consumed me.

Why her? How could the Gods be so cruel?

I knew I should get up, find some way to distract myself from this agony. But my body refused to move, as if it was too exhausted to bear the weight of my heartache. So I lay there on the cold ground, letting the tears overtake me.

All I knew was that in this moment, the pain was all-consuming, and I had no choice but to surrender to it.

“Hyacinth,” Landers’s voice cut through my sobs with an undercurrent of fear.

My thoughts were spinning out of control.

Landers wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, pressing me against his warm chest. His heartbeat, a steady rhythm against my cheek, echoed between the breaking of my heart. Landers stayed there, holding me on the floor, slowly rocking me back and forth.

My cries echoed off the walls until they were reduced to soft whimpers. Landers lifted my body with gentle strength, cradling me close to his chest as he carried me over to the couch. He tucked a warm blanket around my trembling body as the last of the tears streamed down my cheeks. I buried my face into the blanket, trying to hide the redness and puffiness etched into my features.

Landers reached over and brushed his hand gently through my curls, letting the coils twist around his fingers, his gaze full of worry as he studied me. Lifting my chin so our eyes could meet, he tilted his head as his brows pulled together.

“There’s no need to hide your face from me,” Landers whispered. “You are beautiful, Hyacinth. Your grief is beautiful.”

I sniffed, letting my eyes fall to my hands cupped in my lap.

“Stay here,” he ordered before standing. “I will get you coffee.”

I gave him a slight nod as I watched him walk into the kitchen. I settled into the corner of the couch, pushing into its crevice as I listened to him brew a pot of coffee from the other room. There was something about him taking the time to make it by hand instead of using magic—a quiet intimacy.

My eyes had dried by the time he came back into the room, carrying a large kettle and two steaming mugs. He placed one in my hands before sitting next to me, pulling my legs over his lap as he sipped from the cup.

“Is Pri going to be okay?” I sniffed into my coffee.

I knew what pain she was feeling and I didn’t wish that kind of agony on anyone.

“She will be. She is like you, incredibly strong. Not many people could have been in the situation she was and lived, let alone escaped.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “It will be hell to heal though, her burns are deeper than yours were. I am guessing once Andrues finishes she will be out of commission for a few days,” Landers said before chuckling to himself.

“What?” I nudged him with my foot.

“I just know Pri, and she will not be happy about us not allowing her to fight this fight.” Landers smiled over at me, rubbing his hand down the length of my legs.

“I knew I liked her,” I said before raising my mug back to my lips. “So . . . did you talk to Wren? About gathering information on Ata?” I ran my finger around the lip of the cup, catching a drip of hazel liquid as it slid down the side.

“I have. Once Andrues has completed inspecting all her wounds we will go to Mornos.”

I bobbed my head and set my cup down on the coffee table in front of us.

“Hyacinth,” Landers said and it was the first time I had ever heard his voice unsteady; his face looked pained as he dragged his hands through his hair.

“Yes?” I urged, searching his face.

“I want to ask you to go to Ithia with Wren and Pri when we go back to Mornos to extract Ata.”

My heart dropped, he knew how I felt about this. He promised he wouldn’t take that choice from me.

“Before you get upset,” he continued, “it is not because I think you are not strong enough, or capable of fighting alongside us. I have seen that you are.” He hesitated. “I am scared, Hyacinth.”

“Scared that I will slow you down?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Landers said firmly. “That none of us will come out alive. I do not want that future for you.” He sighed leaning his head against the back of the couch—studying the ceiling. “I do not fear death, I have lived many lives. When the Gods call my name I will be ready to meet them. But you, your life is just beginning. I want you to get the chance to live it.” A small, sad smile touched my lips and I grabbed his hand, my eyes filling with tears again.

I brushed them away as I locked my eyes with his. “I will risk my life over and over again if it means saving the people I love. I can’t live the rest of my life wondering if my presence could have changed something.”

Landers gave me a weary smile, tucking a curl behind my ear and letting the backs of his fingers graze my cheek. “I figured that would be your answer.” His thumb lingered on my bottom lip as his eyes wandered over my face. “People like you, are a rarity in these times.” He pulled me close to him again, nestling his nose into the top of my head and leaving a soft kiss there before standing.

Landers pulled my chin up toward him, and our eyes met. There was a glimmer of pride in them as he gazed at me. “It will be an honor to fight at your side.”

My heart clenched at his words.

This was not the direction I thought this conversation would go.

I thought he would tell me that I couldn’t come. That I would slow them down, or be a burden.

But he didn’t.

He trusted me to know what was best for myself and from his words I felt that strength inside me that had been slowly growing, expand a little more.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Taft hesitate as he walked into the room, deciding if he should enter or run the other direction.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Taft said nervously.

“You didn’t,” Landers responded without taking his eyes off me. “We are finished.” He let his hand drop from my chin and looked in Taft’s direction. “I should check on Andrues; there is coffee in the pot. Help yourself.”

Taft gestured his head in thanks as Landers tethered from the room. Taft stayed by the door for a few moments longer until I finally said, “Are you going to come in or just stand there hovering?”

Taft's face was somber as he sauntered over to the chair Landers had sat in just hours ago and took a seat. A ripple of annoyance shot through me as I watched him sitting there and I tried to shove it from my mind.

Landers didn’t own that chair, it’s not like it was his throne Taft was sitting in.

I took a deep breath, holding it for three seconds and then let it out slowly, just as Landers had taught me; trying to quell the urge to pounce from my seat and tear Taft from his.

“You let him touch your hair,” Taft said, his voice hollow. “You never let me do that.” I stayed quiet. I didn’t know how to respond. He was right. I had never realized that until now and it had never even crossed my mind. “I know Ata and I had our differences,” Taft started, “but I hope you know I will do everything in my power to bring her back to you—to Ardan.”

I resisted the desire to roll my eyes in his direction. The fact that he felt the need to tell me that, spoke volumes. I shouldn’t have to wonder if he would be willing to risk his life for her, but I did.

After all the years of being terrible to Ata—telling me that she wasn’t good for me—I did wonder if he cared enough about her to help. Although, some dark part of me knew he wasn’t doing it for her, he was doing it to prove a point. I took in another breath before I forced myself to say thank you, then busy myself on a loose thread that poked out between the cushions of the couch.

“Do you know what happens now?” Taft asked, stretching his legs out in front of him and clasping his hands over his chest.

That was his tell. When he felt vulnerable, his hands always seemed to find their way in front of his heart, his guts.

“Once Andrues starts healing Pri’s burns, Landers and Wren are going to Mornos to look for her. To see if they can gather any information that will help get her back.” Taft didn’t respond as he stared into the flames. “Did you know all of this about Wren? That he has traveled through all the realms? That he could tether?” I asked quietly.

Taft nodded. “In our line of work, almost all the information we learn on the counsel is classified. The only reason I was aware is because I hold a seat at the table. If I didn’t, I would be learning it for the first time too,” Taft responded without looking at me.

There was a long silence before I asked, “Where are you from? Everyone else has talked about the magic they have but you . . . you have never told me.”

Taft kept his eyes glued to the fire. I watched as his body tensed and his jaw clenched. “That isn’t something I talk about, with anyone.”

“I didn’t realize I was just anyone to you,” I said, the words sharp around the edges.

He finally looked at me. A mixture of sadness and anger plagued his eyes but I held his stare, unwilling to let him scare me into submission.

“Your loyalty no longer lies with me, and though you may be the love of my life, my secrets are still my own.”

My insides recoiled at his words and I looked into my lap to hide the grimace that flashed across my face.

“My loyalty is with this entire group, Taft—with my friends. That includes you.”

Taft scoffed quietly, then turned back to the fire.

There were only two reasons he would keep this a secret from us—from me.

Either he was scared of what we would think of him, or he had done something unthinkable.