The hand on my shoulder undid me.
“Time’s up,” the woman said softly, so softly I didn’t think I heard her properly.
“A few more minutes,” I said, clutching Hannon harder. “Just a few more minutes.”
Leala lowered his head and sat back, softly crying. She folded her hands into her lap.
Vemar looked up at me. “I can keep going, Finley, if you want. I can go as long as you want. Tell me what you need.”
He wasn’t asking what Hannon needed—he was asking what I needed. He was asking how he could ease the blow of my brother dying.
FORTY-TWO
Nyfain
“Can I do anything, alpha?” Weston asked as I watched Finley huddle with her family.
The faerie guard circled our small encampment, moved from the garden area to a place where they prepared the dead for their transition to the afterlife. Hannon was inside a small wooden house-like structure, lying on a wooden slat covered in white satin and flowers. The faeries were washing away the blood and stitching him up before they dressed him in such a way that his family could see him without being pummeled with the evidence of his gruesome death.
I wanted to turn away. I wanted to rage and take to the sky and bluster and blow. I wanted to declare war against Dolion right then and there, or at least have a do-over of that battle so we could kill them all a second time.
I didn’t want to lose another dragon and three wolves, though. Hannon hadn’t been the only casualty.
“See to your wolves. Make sure they are looked after,” I told Weston, glancing at the other little houses. I’d already visited the others’ lifeless forms and given condolences to the men and women who’d bravely fought beside them.
Fucking Dolion.
Fucking Starvos for not taking this threat seriously. Though I supposed he wasn’t to blame. He had the castle locked down tight. People knew not to wander far at night with the current threat looming. Hannon had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time without any protection.
I turned away, drowning within the grief and sorrow coming through the bond.
“I’m sorry about this,” Calia said as she walked closer. Her sister followed behind her with a wary expression, probably awkward around strangers and emotion. “I am so, so sorry. Hannon was well loved.”
“He was, and for good reason.” I watched Mom approach Finley and her family with a special tea that would help them relax.
“The king is taking this hard.” She braced her hands on her hips, looking at the little houses, then shifted her attention to Finley and her family. “I know that doesn’t mean much to you now. He is not a man who takes well to failure. There wasn’t just one guard out here. There were five, and all were killed. He knows it could’ve been far worse for him if the demons hadn’t drawn you away.”
Starvos hadn’t expressed any of that. He’d come to offer his condolences and apologize, but then he’d left us to our grief. I told her that.
“He hasn’t been transparent. He wasn’t a great fan of your father and wasn’t entirely sure about you. He definitely didn’t want to take on the demons if he could help it. But this… The demon king underestimated how far he can push the king.”
“Or else he was taking necessary risks.”
“Or maybe that.”
Although Finley got her family to take the tea, she refused it for herself. Sable objected, but her father pulled her in for a tight hug to squash her outrage. My mother pushed the tea on Finley again, trying to get her to take it.
“Are you going to help Arleth?” Calia asked, watching the scene.
I shook my head. “Finley won’t listen to me any more than she’ll listen to my mother or anyone else. She was incredibly close to Hannon. They helped each other through hard times. She won’t want to wash away the pain. She’ll think she needs to feel it—”
I cut off my words and looked away, getting choked up.
“Why?” she asked softly as Finley finally took the mug, held eye contact with my mom, and then poured the contents out. She handed it back with a stony gaze.
“Because she feels guilty. She thinks she’s to blame for what happened to her brother.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Grief doesn’t follow logic.”
My mother finally relented, proving which of them was the most stubborn. She ushered the others back toward the castle. I knew she’d get them situated, offer them more tea if they needed it, and stay to comfort the little ones. It was what she did best. She’d had a lot of practice with me when I was a child.
“What should we do?” Dessia asked, the first time she’d ever spoken directly to me.
“You don’t need to do anything. What’s done is done.”
I blinked quickly to wipe away the moisture in my eyes. Finley wasn’t the only one who felt incredible guilt. I’d pushed Hannon to be a part of our government, hoping he’d protect his kingdom—my kingdom—the way he seemed hard-wired to protect his family. I’d insisted that he come on this journey, wanting him to see what other commodities were out there to buy and sell. I’d let him bring his family, knowing he’d want to look after them. It wasn’t Finley who had instigated all of this—it was me. And then I’d left him vulnerable. I’d let him get taken and used against us. What kind of king did that make me? What kind of man?