31. Eldrin

Chapter thirty-one

Eldrin

F uck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What could I do? What did I do ?

“Amber!” I cried out. “Amber, wake up,” I begged.

I shook her lifeless body as she stared in the direction of the sky. Her gaze faded, already focusing on nothing. Her heart was almost silent, the faintest thrum that threatened to stop at any second. I gripped her hand and nothing gripped me back, her fingers slack.

“Amber…” I bit my hand, stifling another cry, one that was doomed to go unanswered.

What did I do? I trusted a hunch, a legend, and instead I killed her. I let her follow some dream, some hope, that was nothing more than promises whispered like ash in the wind .

I killed her. It would have been better if I had left her alone and let the veinwart poison take her the first time. At least then she would have been with her family and friends. At least that way she would have a grave, and someone other than myself who knew what had happened to her.

I did this to her. Me.

I was right all along—it was a good thing I did not accept the ruling of the kingdom. If I did this to her, who I loved more than my own life, what would I have done to the Woods?

It didn’t matter that this had been her idea, that she decided to pursue the veinwart—she wouldn’t have been able to do it without me. I should have known better. I trusted some obscure hope, and now she was gone.

I failed Amber. I failed everyone.

Her weight was heavy in my arms as I sat on the ground, beyond caring that the damp ground soaked into my breeches. Her dress—that beautiful dress—was in tatters, its threads long unraveled. The veinwart rustled behind me, but I didn’t care. Their bite wouldn’t harm me like it did her, but they were welcome to try. they could cause was nothing compared to what I did to myself. To her.

I bit my hand, hot tears blurring my vision. She was dying, her face taking on the sweet oblivion of sleep. Her breath was weakening with every moment. Fading. Fresh puncture wounds graced her arm, dripping that crimson ichor over her skin .

There was only one thing left that I could do for her. I wasn’t going to let her die here, not in the woods that claimed her life. She deserved to be taken home, back to the human soil, where someone would find her. A place where her memory and grave would be treated with respect. Her family and friends deserved to know what happened to her.

I could give her that at least. The Woods took her life, and I was not going to let it own her death.

Gently, I tugged my robe back on, lifted her up, and carried her away from the spiders and towards the barrier. The last time I carried her she was sated with lovemaking, whispering sweet promises in my ears. I had promised to keep her safe forever.

I had failed.

We were miles away from the barrier, and I rushed towards it, each thudding step heavy blasts against my heart. I went as fast as I could through the trees, darting through shrubs and gullies, no longer caring if I was discovered—it didn’t matter what happened to me now. Nothing mattered other than getting her home before it was too late. I didn’t care about the damn barrier any longer, even less than I had this morning—Vanir deserved its destruction after what he let happen.

Was that breath her last? What about this one? Or this one?

There was no way to know .

My tears dropped on her face, which didn’t react to my tangible grief touching her glassy skin. Nor did she so much as blink at my sobs. And after I left her, what was I supposed to do? She was gone.

Why should I stay here? Why should I stay anywhere? There was no point to me.

Vanir had the kingdom. The kingdom didn’t need me. I failed Amber. I had nothing. I resolved that after she was gone, I would leave. Whether I would leave this world or just leave the Woods as best I could, I did not know. I just had to get away . I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel the loss that permeated me, delving into every part. I was nothing but a void where she had been my light. She was my ember, and now her spark was gone.

The barrier tingled over my skin long before I saw it, the iridescent haze that blurred the air, like heat rising off hot stones. I could see through the barrier, see the mortal farmer’s fields beyond it, an abrupt line where the eternal autumn of the Darkening Woods broke into the mortal world. The barrier naturally pushed most elves and animals to stay within—and others out—but I had the ability to push through it. It would fight me—as it was meant to—but I would take her home, even though the barrier would shatter.

Others from our home had interacted with the mortal world and survived. Now that we were no longer the first, things would be easier for the elves of the Darkening Woods. We would endure. We had to .

I stood at the edge of the barrier and took a deep breath. Everything I had worked for from the moment Amber crossed my path had been a lie. And now I would destroy it all. Vanir could deal with the consequences.

“Look what I found,” Vanir suddenly said from behind me. I whipped my head, finding Vanir and his henchman, Ivas. Both of them were dressed for battle, in simple tunics and breeches and light armor. Both of them sneered at me, at Amber dead in my arms. I looked around, seeing only the two of them, and hearing nothing to indicate that others were nearby. A small blessing. And a sign that they didn’t expect me to be any trouble.

How did they find me so fast? Then again, I wasn’t subtle this morning. Someone had to have seen, and the king was faster than me and had been searching for me for weeks. He had to have been watching the barrier, looking for any sign that we were trying to leave. I would not have put it past Vanir to have known where I was for some time, to make me think that we were safe until it was too late.

“Pathetic,” Ivas said. “You had a woman trust you, and you managed to kill her after what, a month?” He was right.

I wanted nothing more than to carve that smirk off his face. It wouldn’t bring Amber back, but it would feel damn good.

“How did she die?” Vanir asked, raising an eyebrow, looking at Amber’s limp body. Her red hair trailed over my arms and hung over the ground. “I don’t see any blood. ”

“Does it matter?” Ivas said.

“Yes,” Vanir said. “We should have noticed if this happened.” Then his eyebrow raised again. “A fresh bite? Interesting.”

I clenched my fists, my breath tight.

“She was always going to die,” Ivas said, as if announcing that trees had leaves. “One way or another.” There was something in his smirk, something that told me I had missed something obvious, yet again.

“It was you,” I said. “You’re the one who ordered that she be attacked in her rooms.”

“Of course,” Vanir said.

If I had the ability to feel anything else, I would’ve been shocked. But as it was, I was just tired. The game had been stacked against us from the start, everything manipulated—no wonder we had lost.

“I knew the attack wouldn’t succeed,” Vanir continued, “not with you so devoted. But I knew it would push her towards you. And it did—how could it not, when the elf sent to guard her saved her life? And now look—my brother ran away with my betrothed, blatantly obsessed with her. And look here, I caught him trying to break the barrier, which would doom our people.” Vanir pulled out a long dagger. “No one will blame me for what I’m about to do. And here’s the best part—you can’t kill me. Well, not easily. One must never be too optimistic. ”

“I think we can assume he won’t be able to manage it,” Ivas said, looking me up and down. “He’s barely standing.”

Vanir was right—I couldn’t spill his blood, or the Darkening Woods would take its cost. And he was also right that are plenty of ways to kill someone that don’t involve shedding blood. But Ivas was also right—it would be very hard to accomplish a bloodless death when fighting two skilled elves at once. And it had been a long time since I had a full night’s sleep or a meal that wasn’t berries and roots.

And I had just lost my reason for living, for fighting. Who cared if they let me join her?

Vanir nodded to Ivas. It was time. What had lurked between us our whole lives was going to be settled here, with only the Woods as a witness.

I could just let them kill me, to spill my blood and let my soul greet Amber’s. But I couldn’t let them win without a fight. I owed Amber that much. I wouldn’t insult what she had given to me by cowering before the men who had taken her life from her as surely as the veinwart did.

As if they planned their movements, Vanir and Ivas spread out, their daggers now out of their sheaths. I had mere moments before they would be in position to attack, and it would take everything I had to meet it.

I shrugged off the robe, leaving my chest bare to the cool air. Carefully, I set Amber down on the ground in a pile of leaves next to my garment. I would bring this fight away from her. Even dead, she didn’t have to watch me fight. She didn’t have to watch me die. And they wouldn’t bother with her—to them, she was already dead. They wanted me. With luck, they would forget about her and leave her body here to find peace in the Woods.

There would be no such fate for me.

Quickly, I stepped away from her, both of my knives out, my hands moving to a familiar grip. This fight would test me—there was a very real chance it would kill me. I was a better fighter than Vanir, and Ivas was more into the appearance of fighting than practicality, but it was two against one—and I was not at my prime.

Before I could take my next breath, they attacked. I feinted Vanir’s blow and ducked Ivas’s. There was a flurry of blades, blocking and slashing, and a mere second later we stepped back, all of us untouched. Each of us weighing the other.

That was just a test, to see what I was still capable of. Now the real fight would begin.

I blocked another flurry of attacks, not thinking—only moving. Always moving. I couldn’t stop. One would attack and the other would move, aiming for where I was vulnerable. The three of us ended up in the fluid dance that was the signature style of our people—the first time either of us stepped out of line it would be our death. The first time either of us stumbled would be the last.

After a vicious flurry, Vanir and Ivas jointly stepped back, catching their breaths. I did the same, sweat gathering on my brow. We couldn’t do this forever. I was tiring—it was only a matter of time until I slipped. Until I was too slow.

And I couldn’t spill Vanir’s blood. He didn’t dare run into me because he knew that with the correct move, I’d be cursed, but he’d still be dead. But of the two of us, I was by far at the most disadvantaged. I was weak, weaker than them. All I was doing was prolonging the inevitable. Either they’d kill me, or the Woods would. I couldn’t just win—I had to win in a way that wouldn’t curse me.

“What do you think we’re going to do to your little human after we’re gone?” Vanir taunted. “All that pretty hair—there’s still lots we can do with a corpse. And then look at you—a failure again. A failed king. You couldn’t even keep a human safe.”

“She’s probably not dead yet, I think there’s lots we could still do,” Ivas said, a sickening grin on his face.

I steadied myself. They were trying to anger me. Trying to get me to make a mistake. It wouldn’t work. I had heard all of Vanir’s taunts before, and more besides. Amber wasn’t of real interest to them—it was me. They wanted me. They wouldn’t be able to do a thing so long as I lived.

Then Amber groaned.

Vanir and Ivas turned to look at her—and that little distraction was all I needed. I lunged towards Ivas, getting past his guard and slicing his neck. Small drops of blood coated my knife—not enough. He moved at the last moment and rolled away, avoiding the killing blow, though he was now left with a thin red ribbon across the tender skin. He touched the wound and looked at his hand, sticky and red. And then glared at me, gripping his daggers harder.

All of this happened in the space of a few heartbeats. Before I could steady myself, he attacked me with a renewed viciousness now that Vanir was gone.

Wait—

Where was Vanir?

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t look. I could only manage Ivas and his flurry of blades, the anger in him fueling his attacks. He slashed at me, managing to slice my shoulder. Not deep. I could tell it wasn’t deep. But I was weakening. The next time I wouldn’t be so lucky.

“I think we’ve had enough, haven’t you?” Ivas asked, nodding at my wound.

“Never.”

Darting, I broke through Ivas’s guard just enough to land a blow to his face with my fist clenched around the dagger’s hilt—he didn’t expect me to switch to that style of attack. To his detriment.

Groaning, he stumbled back and knelt on the ground, stemming the gushing blood flowing from his nose, while I took in what made Ivas suddenly gloat.

King Vanir, my craven brother, knelt on the ground, holding Amber in front of him, using her to shield his body. To my surprise, she was awake but dazed, her eyes taking in her surroundings with a distant look. She clutched my cloak in her hands, worrying the fabric through her fingers. A knife was at her throat as she leaned back against Vanir’s chest, unable to hold up her own head. He met my gaze, unable to keep the triumph from his eyes.

“Now, you’re going to stop this,” Vanir said. “You can’t kill me. And I am more than happy to kill her. And look what you did to poor Ivas.” Vanir shook his head. “You should have been more careful, Ivas. You insisted that you’d be the best to help me take care of this, and look at the mess you caused.” Vanir turned back to me. “See, part of being king is handling one’s own problems—the people expect it.”

By now Ivas had recovered, his hands clutched around his weapons, blood still pouring down his face. But he stayed back, watching what Vanir would do.

“She has nothing to do with this,” I said, knowing it would be pointless to argue. But I wasn’t trying to convince him—I needed time to think. I’d keep him talking as long as possible. Ivas took a few steps away from where he had initially rested, and I didn’t dare let my attention slip from him. He was still close enough to attack, but he seemed content to nurse his bloody face for the time being. And watch.

“She has everything to do with this. If you had listened to me,” Vanir said, “the barrier would have obtained what it needs to survive. Our people would be safe.”

“Safe? What about how you are ruining our people with your greed? And those you tortured? Imprisoned? A pleasure house, Vanir? You couldn’t find anyone to tend to you willingly?”

“You cannot blame me for taking respite where I can,” he said.

“Respite?” I spat.

“ I kept our people intact since the worlds merged. The least they could do is thank me and serve me. Ungrateful. So many are truly ungrateful.”

“Well, I’d say not so many any more,” Ivas said. “Some of them are not capable of feeling much now.”

“None of that,” Vanir snapped. “My dear brother doesn’t need the sordid details.” He sneered. “There’s a reason I am king and he is not.”

Vanir addressed me once more. “You don’t know what it takes, Eldrin. To rule, you have to do whatever needs to be done. And why would I need to force anyone to serve me, in any capacity? I’m the king.”

“Let’s pretend that particular rumor is a lie,” I said. “You’re still taxing our people within an inch of their existence. For nothing but your own wants.”

“A king must look the part.”

“A king is supposed to care for his people—to help them instead of burden them.”

“Oh, dear brother,” Vanir said, shaking his head. “This is why you’d never make a good king—too much idealistic hope.” He shook Amber, jostling her head back and forth, so that it flopped like a rag doll. “Like what you had with this one.”

“You were going to kill her.”

“To save us.”

I shook my head. Only Vanir would consider murder to be a noble pursuit. “There is always another way.”

“Not this time. The barrier demands blood. Would you have demanded it from our people?”

“I would have told them the truth,” I said and Vanir snorted. “They had their home taken away and will likely never see it again. They deserve that much.”

Suddenly, the barrier flickered right behind Amber and Vanir, as if it knew that we were talking about it, that we were discussing providing a life to sustain it. They were so close to letting Amber be free from here—mere steps. They could have literally tossed her through the barrier, to give her a chance at life, but they wouldn’t. Vanir must have followed my gaze, for he said, “Convenient that you brought her here. Looks like I’ll be able to strengthen the barrier with her blood after all.” His lips curled.

“You need a willing sacrifice.”

“Willing has many definitions, and the barrier is thirsty.”

All the blood left my face.

He would do it. He would kill Amber here, in front of me, and spill her blood for the barrier. And the worst thing was, he would come away from this a hero. He would be the one our people praised, never mind that he killed an innocent, unwilling woman to do it. The people would probably overlook his cruelty and excesses for a time, or at least pretend to, because he did this for them.

“Ivas,” Vanir said, “Get rid of him.”

“No!” I cried out, raising my arms, preparing both to block Ivas’s attack and throw my dagger and kill Vanir, no matter what it did to me.

Then Amber moved. Her eyes opened. And right as Vanir twisted his wrist to slit her throat, she raised the skull on my robe, smashing it against Vanir’s nose. Blood sprayed over her, over the skull, as Vanir howled.

I couldn’t see what happened after that. Ivas attacked me, using the distraction to almost slip inside my guard. I met his blows and pushed him off, using the break in our fight to see what Amber had done to the king.

His arms were wrapped around her, the knife discarded on the ground. Amber was struggling in his grip, reaching for something, finding my robe. Somehow, my robe, the king’s blood still on the skull, ended up in the air, touching the barrier—

“No!” Vanir cried out. He shrugged Amber off him, sending her rolling to the ground. “What have you done?” he screamed. Blood streamed down his face in thick rivers from his nose, splattering over his garments and Amber.

“You said the barrier needs blood,” Amber said, her cut lip sending a red line down her chin. She slowly pushed herself up, struggling in the dirt. “I figured, why couldn’t it use yours?”

What was happening?

My heart stopped.

“Your Majesty!” Ivas howled when Vanir began to change.

Vanir’s eyes grew larger and larger like eggs, while his face started sagging. This was beyond aging—he was melting. Like the hot wax dripping off a lit candle, he collapsed and fell apart, dripping onto the ground and pooling. His bubbling flesh, a miasma of the colors that he used to be moved towards the barrier. Ivas fell to his knees, yelling for Vanir, begging for him to come back.

While the king fell apart I darted for Amber, taking her in my arms even as her head flopped against me, pulling her away from whatever was happening.

How was this happening? The barrier was consuming him, but such a thing required intent, not an accident, based on what I knew about magic. An elf or human with a cut alone wouldn’t have triggered the barrier, or it would have taken someone long before this—there had to be the intent. Right?

But Vanir was the king—the rules were different for kings. The rules could be brutal for kings. Vanir did take an oath during his coronation…

Vanir had sworn an oath promising that he would give of himself in service to the land. To the Woods.

Apparently, the Woods decided that it was in need, and that it needed Vanir. The Woods didn’t concern itself with our politics and desires—it was eternal, our lives nothing in the shadow of its sovereignty. We lived and served under the Woods’ protection, and that protection came with a cost.

A cost kings had to be prepared to pay.

With her hugged tight against me, Amber and I watched, breathless, as Vanir melted and entirely disappeared. The barrier took every last bit of him until it was as if he had never existed at all.

He was gone.