it, then, the great temptation
to simply love this warrior, with no Rose Crown weighing down her head, no High
Throne hovering in the background, no allies and wars, no dread beasts of
Shadow on the horizon.
He’d do it. He’d leave his Camp. He’d
drop every last bead from his hair, rip off his honor, and walk hand in hand
with her and their children to a place where no one knew she was the Last
Daughter.
Opening her eyes, she met his molten
gaze, still locked mouth to mouth and sharing the same breath. Unshakeable,
he’d said, and he meant it. For her love, he’d turn his back on every single
thing in this world. If he thought any danger approached, he would meet it
singlehandedly and count his death as nothing if it meant she might live.
Love, the greatest gift of all, and the
greatest sacrifice.
Everything unraveled in her mind. All
the plots and schemes, her strategy for keeping her throne and driving back the
Keldari raiders who encroached deeper into the Green Lands each and every day.
His own battles had become hers; naturally, she strategized with him on how to
keep the Nine Camps united and strong. Now, those Camps dispersed, fluttering
away in a tremendous wind.
Dust. Everything was dust. Everything
tumbled to the ground, the Shining Walls that had never been breached by any
army—except hers—mere rubble.
She felt poised over a bottomless chasm.
Any move could plunge her into darkness. Shanhasson stood on one side, her
people, even the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan and other nations of the
world. They hung by a thread, but that thread was tied to her. It dragged at
her constantly, such a weight, such a burden.
Every muscle ached. Her heart yearned to
soar, galloping like the wind across the hills to wander in the holy secret
Tenth Camp at the top of Vulkar’s Mountain. There, she would hold her Shadowed
Blood again with Rhaekhar at her side. Her children could grow safe and happy,
untouched by the world’s responsibilities. They could all avoid the insidious
taint of Shadow.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her left
hand around Gregar’s ivory rahke . Her
palm burned, the memory of how she’d sacrificed her own blood a searing memory
that would never die. Once, the knife had gleamed in her hand, a beacon of
light in the darkest Shadow, but ever since she had taken Shanhasson, the light
in the ivory rahke had died.
What
does it mean? Have I already lost this battle?
In her mind, she stared at the slender
thread that bore the weight of the world. One cut, and all her worries and responsibilities
would slide into oblivion. She’d be free.
Rhaekhar’s breath puffed gently against
her face. “Decide. I love you either way.”
Tears flowed down her face. It would be
heavenly to be free. Free to love, free to live away from the turmoil of the
High Court and most of all, free from Shadow. Yet there were no promises ahead,
even if she cut her responsibilities and ran with Rhaekhar somewhere far away.
Shadow would never let her hide from
this world for long.
Blessed
Lady, what would You have me do?
Crystal water welled deep within her
soul. Cold like a pure alpine spring, that water had never seen the Shadow of
night because the Lady’s Moon was a constant beacon in the night.
A hint of midnight velvet glided through
her mind: Gregar, her laughing Shadowed Blood. He’d already paid the ultimate
price for her love. He’d died to save her life, and nothing she’d done had been
able to save him.
:I
would die a thousand times to know your love once.: He whispered in her mind, the chilling Shadow of his gift spreading across her
back, his favorite position of defense.
:What
am I supposed to do? What is the Gods’ will?:
:Love.
Whatever that means. Even when it hurts so badly it would be a mercy to die a
thousand deaths.:
She felt the swords hacking at his body,
as though the day of his death played out in his mind. No pain had kept him
from her, no steel, no creature of Shadow, not
to simply love this warrior, with no Rose Crown weighing down her head, no High
Throne hovering in the background, no allies and wars, no dread beasts of
Shadow on the horizon.
He’d do it. He’d leave his Camp. He’d
drop every last bead from his hair, rip off his honor, and walk hand in hand
with her and their children to a place where no one knew she was the Last
Daughter.
Opening her eyes, she met his molten
gaze, still locked mouth to mouth and sharing the same breath. Unshakeable,
he’d said, and he meant it. For her love, he’d turn his back on every single
thing in this world. If he thought any danger approached, he would meet it
singlehandedly and count his death as nothing if it meant she might live.
Love, the greatest gift of all, and the
greatest sacrifice.
Everything unraveled in her mind. All
the plots and schemes, her strategy for keeping her throne and driving back the
Keldari raiders who encroached deeper into the Green Lands each and every day.
His own battles had become hers; naturally, she strategized with him on how to
keep the Nine Camps united and strong. Now, those Camps dispersed, fluttering
away in a tremendous wind.
Dust. Everything was dust. Everything
tumbled to the ground, the Shining Walls that had never been breached by any
army—except hers—mere rubble.
She felt poised over a bottomless chasm.
Any move could plunge her into darkness. Shanhasson stood on one side, her
people, even the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan and other nations of the
world. They hung by a thread, but that thread was tied to her. It dragged at
her constantly, such a weight, such a burden.
Every muscle ached. Her heart yearned to
soar, galloping like the wind across the hills to wander in the holy secret
Tenth Camp at the top of Vulkar’s Mountain. There, she would hold her Shadowed
Blood again with Rhaekhar at her side. Her children could grow safe and happy,
untouched by the world’s responsibilities. They could all avoid the insidious
taint of Shadow.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her left
hand around Gregar’s ivory rahke . Her
palm burned, the memory of how she’d sacrificed her own blood a searing memory
that would never die. Once, the knife had gleamed in her hand, a beacon of
light in the darkest Shadow, but ever since she had taken Shanhasson, the light
in the ivory rahke had died.
What
does it mean? Have I already lost this battle?
In her mind, she stared at the slender
thread that bore the weight of the world. One cut, and all her worries and responsibilities
would slide into oblivion. She’d be free.
Rhaekhar’s breath puffed gently against
her face. “Decide. I love you either way.”
Tears flowed down her face. It would be
heavenly to be free. Free to love, free to live away from the turmoil of the
High Court and most of all, free from Shadow. Yet there were no promises ahead,
even if she cut her responsibilities and ran with Rhaekhar somewhere far away.
Shadow would never let her hide from
this world for long.
Blessed
Lady, what would You have me do?
Crystal water welled deep within her
soul. Cold like a pure alpine spring, that water had never seen the Shadow of
night because the Lady’s Moon was a constant beacon in the night.
A hint of midnight velvet glided through
her mind: Gregar, her laughing Shadowed Blood. He’d already paid the ultimate
price for her love. He’d died to save her life, and nothing she’d done had been
able to save him.
:I
would die a thousand times to know your love once.: He whispered in her mind, the chilling Shadow of his gift spreading across her
back, his favorite position of defense.
:What
am I supposed to do? What is the Gods’ will?:
:Love.
Whatever that means. Even when it hurts so badly it would be a mercy to die a
thousand deaths.:
She felt the swords hacking at his body,
as though the day of his death played out in his mind. No pain had kept him
from her, no steel, no creature of Shadow, not
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