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It singed each breath, eroded my bones, and sliced at my skin.
“I forgive you,” I sobbed, the words robbed from my soul, my heart, fracturing into the air warmed by his blood. It was all over me, slippery, so much of it, shit…
My fingers gripped the collar of his tunic, so wet with his blood, and I shook him with every ounce of strength I did not possess. “Please, Dade. Come back. Come back, come back, come back. I forgive you.” I fell over his wounds as though I could stem them all if only I could cover them…
“I forgive you,” I yelled, the words echoing into eternity, useless, meaningless now that he was no longer.
No, no. I grabbed at his cheeks, fingers desperate for his rumbling laughter beneath me, that smile. What I wouldn’t give to see it, to hear it in his voice. The words trembled out of me, over and over until I couldn’t breathe unless I said them to his mouth.
I kissed him. Gently, reverently, murmuring pleads trapped upon still lips. “I forgive you, okay? I forgive you, you vile, wonderful, merciless, incredible creature. I fucking forgive you.” I sniffed. “Okay, Daden? I forgive you.”
Footsteps crunched but never neared. I cared nothing for them, for whatever battle still raged around us. If he was gone, I wouldn’t leave. I would stay.
I would stay wherever he was.
More wet washed over my cheeks, the salty taste of tears mingling with the coppery tang of blood.
“Opal,” a male’s voice said. Scythe maybe. I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
He came closer, and I rose, hands slipping in the muddied and bloodied grass either side of Dade’s head, to gnash my teeth.
He paused, then raised his hands, and though I warned him not to, the one-eyed warrior still pressed forward.
A stillness roared through me, so complete, so violent in its silence that he finally retreated—bounced back.
When he tried again, his mouth fell open, his hand hitting a wall he could not see. He wouldn’t be coming any closer.
Relieved, I turned back to Dade, sniffing as I whispered, “I love you, too.” I laughed then, brushing dirt and blood from his cheek. “Though I suspect you already knew that. But you,” my lips wobbled, my body trembled with a regret so huge, I couldn’t breathe as I pushed out, “you left before I could tell you that I forgive you. So come back.”
“Stars,” I heard someone say.
I smoothed his hair, insisting, “You have to come back.”
“What the fuck?” came another.
“Opal,” my mother called, breathless. “Opal, stop.” Her rapid footsteps came closer, then halted as they reached that invisible barrier. She cursed, then softened her voice. I didn’t look. I wouldn’t move.
“Listen to me,” she urged. “I know, believe me I know how much it hurts, how much it feels like the end, but you must stop.”
The stars made you just for me.
I didn’t know what she was talking about, and I didn’t care. I was certain I would care about nothing for a long, long time.
I do love you, Opal Gracewood.
“She’s burning, fuck. Brim,” I heard Scythe roar. “Is Fang here yet? Someone get him and a damned healer.”
“No,” I heard Silver snap. “You will do nothing.”
Then there was only light.
It surrounded me and my king—untouchable, impenetrable, and blinding. It tickled my skin, hummed in a comforting rhythm that matched my slow-beating heart.
Tears raced anew as I shielded Dade, leaking onto his face, dripping to the dirt. That ravine had finally broken, the roiling current too strong to be contained. It crashed through me.
It exploded.
“Not burning,” my mother said, and it sounded as though she were talking inside a deep cave, her voice and others growing more and more muted. “She’s glowing.”
Strength evaded me with each ragged breath, and I curled over Dade, too weak to move even if I’d wanted to. I didn’t. I knew I would eventually have to, but I couldn’t fathom it. Not yet.
“Never,” I croaked, my nose skimming over the stubble on his jaw, inhaling the faint cedar and smoky scent in his neck.
A thud sounded, something crawling beneath my arm.
I startled, rising but only to my elbow, everything too dark, too bright, too much effort—just a dream.
He groaned, and I dragged my eyes from his chest, from the blood that’d stopped flowing under my arm, from the skin that had begun to re-stitch. “Dade,” I gasped, forcing heavy eyes to his face.
“Swan.” His lips smacked together. He swallowed, groaned again, then cursed. “I heard you, and I…” he coughed out, voice hoarse, “I will hold you to that. To all of it.”
I smiled, breath gone and long forgotten as relief slammed into me. I smiled, reaching for that face, my hand too heavy, flopping to his shoulder instead.
I smiled, and then everything went dark as I let myself fall inside the dream.