All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

C reslyn grabbed a handful of her sodden skirts and tore, her nails digging deep into the fabric until the sound of ripping satin filled her ears. Her heart hammered wildly, and her body was wrecked with tremors as she tried to focus, to save the life draining before her eyes. She bundled the smooth cloth together, pressing it firmly onto the wound in Kjeld’s chest. His blood soaked through it in seconds, staining her hands and seeping through his leathers. All the color drained from his tanned face, and his summer blue eyes listed toward her.

“My…” Kjeld sucked in a garbled breath. “Lady.”

“I’m here.”

Her heart tumbled into her stomach, and the tears that slid down her cheeks were lost to the rain washing away his blood. It weakened her, paralyzed her, seeing a man of his strength and fortitude succumb to such a horrid fate. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to reverse it.

She continued to press the bundle of cloth to his wound, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference, knowing she would be unable to save Kjeld’s life.

Caelian clutched his worn leathers, her nails digging into the stiff fabric of his vest. She did not cry, but her eyes roved all over his body, wrought with worry. Gnawing on her bottom lip, her gaze darted to the overcast heavens, then back to Kjeld.

“I can save him.”

Her voice was soft when she spoke, and Creslyn wasn’t entirely sure she heard her correctly. She stared at her twin whose eyes were alight with resolution.

“He’s losing too much blood, Caelian.” Creslyn’s lungs hollowed out and she fell back, the blood-soaked scrap of her gown soiling her lap. The rain continued to fall, the cold drops running down her back like the fingers of death. She pressed her lips together and looked upon Kjeld, whose eyes had closed, whose pained, wheezing breaths were thick and rasping. There would be no saving him. Not even a general of dragons could survive the Shadowblade. “A wound from the Shadowblade has no cure, Cae. It takes every life, every time.”

Caelian shook her head, her hair sticking to the sides of her face like streaks of liquid silver.

“No. I can do it.” Caelian cupped Kjeld’s face with her pale hands, running a thumb along his beard in gentle, comforting strokes as his chest rose, then fell for the final time. Her voice broke as she said, “I cannot let him die.”

But it was too late.

Kjeld Holtstrom, General of the Brackroth Dragon Legion, was dead.

Creslyn tilted her head back, sniffling, and lifted her face to the misty gray skies. Her tears were hot, the rain was cold. The Shadowblade was gone. Her mate was free, his curse finally broken.

But the cost, oh sweet stars, the cost.

Kjeld had forfeited his life for hers without hesitation. He’d shoved her out of the way right before Drake struck, taking the blade to his heart. Searing pain flared through her and her lungs squeezed at the memory. She would never forget the blinding terror she’d felt when Drake fixated on her, his pupils so large and crazed that they obscured the green of his eyes. In that one frightful moment, the bond had fallen silent, as though it had been severed completely.

Even now, she was hesitant to reach for it, to even look upon him for fear of what she might see.

But she could not be afraid anymore.

She could not be afraid ever again.

Creslyn felt for the thread of her heart, and it vibrated softly in return. Still there. Still intact. But it was empty and lacking warmth, as though the soul bound to hers was utterly defeated. Wrecked and damaged. Desolate. A husk of a life.

Daring a glance over her shoulder, she sought Drake and almost fractured at the sight of him.

It was worse than she ever could have expected.

Drake stared where Kjeld laid motionless on the wet ground, each sharp inhale shuddering through him as though it hurt to even breathe. His face was pure agony and the vacantness in his eyes almost broke her. He stood with his arms limp by his sides, his gaze harboring all those restless emotions he fought so hard to control. Creslyn had never seen him in such a state of despondency.

This was Drake.

He was cool, calculating, and cutthroat. He was a god.

And he was breaking.

“Kjeld.” His hoarse voice stole through the courtyard, gravelly and tinged with suffering. He blinked, his gaze sliding to her, and a rush of emotion trembled through the bond. Sorrow. Remorse. Guilt.

“The Shadowblade.” Drake swallowed, his mouth opening and closing as though he couldn’t get the words out. “I didn’t believe you. I…I didn’t trust you.”

He stumbled forward and dropped to his knees beside her, bowing his head.

Creslyn grabbed his hand and squeezed. His palm was like ice, clammy and cold.

“I killed him. My general.” He lifted his gaze, and his throat worked as he tried to fight some unreadable emotion. Misery carved the handsome planes of his face. “My…friend.”

“It wasn’t you.” Creslyn’s voice caught, pleading with him to understand. The guilt he carried was torturous and suffocating, so heavy she felt herself gasping as she said, “It was the blade. It was cursed.”

“You,” Drake choked out, searching her face for something. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into his lap. His arms curled around her, locking tight, his fingers gripping her sodden gown as he held her close, refusing to let her go. He drew her into him, clutching her like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning in a volatile sea of despair. “I tried to kill you.”

“It was the blade, Drake.” Creslyn despised the way her voice quivered. She threaded her fingers through his dark hair, soothing away the tumultuous emotions coursing through him. The side of his face came to rest against her heart, and she whispered, “Not you. Never you.”

His fingers molded to her back, like he was trying to compress all the space between them, like he needed her to breathe. He held her firmly in his fierce grip, all the while murmuring two words over and over again.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

To her. To Kjeld. To the gods, and the stars, and the fates.

Creslyn squeezed her eyes shut and held him, pouring everything, all of her, into the bond they shared. She gave him her strength, her comfort, her love. All that she was, belonged to him. She calmed his mind with her own thoughts, embraced his torment as though it were her own. Her soul strained, reaching, pulling him from the fathomless pit of torment. She cradled his heart in her hands, warming the stone until it was soft and pliable, wiping away all traces of ash.

Until finally, Drake’s rumbling voice gently caressed the walls of her mind.

“Kearsta.”

“Here.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, unsure she would ever be able to release him. “I’m here.”

But magic simmered along Creslyn’s skin, and her eyes flew open.

A startled cry escaped her as dozens of stars tumbled down around them in streaks of glittering silver, slashing through the rain and wind. They whistled as they fell from the sky, tinkling like broken bits of glass as they bounced off the hard ground of the courtyard.

It was then she noticed Kjeld was glowing.

He loosed a pained groan, a golden aura coating his body as he swallowed an impossible gulp of air. The tanned hue of his skin was suddenly more vibrant, a flawless bronze. Wondrously radiant. The wound from the Shadowblade had healed, disappearing as though it had never been there at all. Blood still stained his leathers, but the slash in them was gone. His fingers twitched, and while his eyes remained closed, his brows were drawn into a frown of discomfort.

Kjeld was alive.

The same…yet different.

His blond hair shone like spun gold and his features were sharper, chiseled and angular. The scar that marked his bottom lip was slightly more pronounced, more visible as the color returned to his lips. He’d been solid before, yet now he looked to be forged from granite, every inch of him hardened muscle. The tattoos of runes crawling up his neck looked freshly painted, the ink a glossy black. Even his beard, short and well-trimmed, seemed to highlight the striking planes of his face.

He rolled his head to one side, away from Creslyn, and she clamped one hand over her mouth in shock.

Where his ears should have been round, they were now long and pointed.

Kjeld was fae.

Creslyn gaped at her twin, shock ricocheting through her.

Impossible. What Caelian had done was somehow unimaginable, and yet…Kjeld continued to draw air. To breathe. To live.

“How?” she croaked.

Caelian sat back, tucking her bloodied hands beneath her. The skin beneath her eyes was sunken and she hung her head, her silver hair falling around her like a curtain.

When she spoke, her words were a scrape of sound against the wind. Tainted by exhaustion. “I made a wish.”

Creslyn could only stare, watching as Caelian’s magic receded and the shooting stars fizzled out completely. Whatever she did to revive Kjeld, the cost would be great.

Dangerous magic that…wishes upon stars.

Weeks later, Creslyn found herself doing exactly as Ariesian instructed—acting as though nothing was amiss and dancing at a ball.

Or at the very least, she was attempting to dance.

Drake was obscenely patient, having offered to teach her how to waltz. Unfortunately for her, she was far better at fighting with a sword than she was being twirled around a ballroom. She could dance just fine on her own, letting herself ebb and flow to the sound of the music. But as soon as she was in his arms, she turned into a stumbling, awkward mess of a lady who could not keep time if her life depended on it.

Tonight, they were at House Emberspire, as Novalise and Asher were hosting a ball to celebrate Embernyte, when the decadence of the autumn season was at its most illustrious point. Nearly every noble in Aeramere was in attendance, dressed in their finery, dazzling with exquisite elegance. While Asher donned more formal attire, a simple suit of black and silver, Novalise wore a gown that looked like it was on fire. Scarlet silk swirled around her like flames and the bodice was covered in gold crystals that shifted in the light, mimicking the glow of burning embers.

Couples swirled across the obsidian floor of the ballroom in a kaleidoscope of colors, moving in time to a melodic symphony. Gilded leaves of topaz, citrine, and ruby dripped from the ceiling, some of them falling to the ground, making it seem like they were dancing in an autumn forest. Golden trees overflowing with sprigs of berries and jewel-toned leaves were clustered into corners and the mirrored walls reflected the radiance of warm faerie fire that sparked like orbs in chandeliers carved from ancient branches. Music and laughter filled the breathtaking space, and the heady scent of spiced wine and cinnamon hung heavy in the air.

While Creslyn tried to follow Drake’s lead, she couldn’t quite seem to tear her gaze away from Caelian.

Her twin stood in a lonely corner, her hands clasped together, her gaze downcast. She fiddled with the sleeves of her navy satin gown, tugging at the gold crystals lining the cuffs. Every so often she would scan her surroundings, her eyes filled with dreadful yearning, before she once again retreated into herself. It was dreadful to think of Caelian as a wallflower, for she dearly loved to dance, but her sister had refused every male who asked for her hand thus far.

Likely because the one she longed for the most, a stunning fae who rode a dragon, was currently ignoring her very existence.

Creslyn stole another look at her sister as Drake guided her into a confusing series of steps around the ballroom. “Why is Kjeld so mad at her?”

“Remember how I told you the story of Valorahan?” Drake asked, lifting her by the waist to spare his feet from being stepped on yet again. “Kjeld is a warrior, solysa . He made the ultimate sacrifice to save your life, and for him, there was no nobler way to die. For him, Valorahan was his fate. His destiny.”

He carried her off the dance floor and set her down by a table filled with various forms of pumpkin and apple desserts.

“Caelian brought him back to life. She made him fae. Gave him magic. None of which he ever wanted.”

Drake sighed then, and a line formed across his brow.

Whatever he was going to say next would not be kind.

“Caelian robbed him of his destiny.” He slid an arm around her waist, leading her out through one of the arching doorways to the gardens beyond. “Kjeld will not be so quick to forgive her for it.”

“But she saved his life,” Creslyn countered.

Drake slid one finger beneath her chin, his eyes warming. “It was not her life to save.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew Drake was right. While it seemed like Caelian was acting out of a noble cause when she’d brought Kjeld back, her actions had also stemmed from a place of thoughtlessness. She’d mistakenly assumed the general would be grateful, and now he wanted nothing to do with her.

Outside, the air was brisk, and while the moon had graced Aeramere with the fullness of its dark side, the stars twinkled as bright as diamonds. Out here, in the solemnity of the night, the rest of the world seemed so very far away. The music was distant, a whispering refrain, the laughter and voices no louder than the strumming of a harp.

Creslyn turned in Drake’s arms, admiring the way he grinned down at her, the way the smile she loved finally reached his eyes.

“I have something for you,” he murmured.

Her brows lifted. “Is it something sparkly?”

His smiled widened. “Perhaps.”

Drake reached into his pocket and pulled out a strand of glittering pearls. “I meant to give them to you before, but you were rather furious with me.”

“Mm.” She lifted her hair from her neck and turned, allowing him to drape the pearls and fasten them in place. “I believe it was well deserved.”

“Indeed it was.” He chuckled, clasping the strand around her throat. His mouth grazed her ear, his whisper full of dark lust. “How do they feel?”

She leaned against him and sighed. “Lovely.”

“Then later tonight, I will show you how much better they will feel between your thighs.”

Shivers of delight raced down Creslyn’s spine and heat bloomed low in her belly in anticipation of his sinful promise. She spun in his arms. “I have something for you as well.”

“Is that so?” Drake crooned.

“Yes.” She pulled a small velvet pouch from her gown and emptied the contents into the palm of her hand.

Two rings tumbled out.

One belonging to her, the one Drake had given her, the one she’d claimed to have lost. She slid the black diamond ring back onto her finger, admiring the way it fit so perfectly. Like it always belonged there. The other, however, was a simple band that sparkled softly in the night. She’d had it made especially for him.

“It’s made of black opal. Both dark and light.” Creslyn held it out to him. “To remind you of me. Of us.”

Drake took the ring and rolled it between his fingers.

“I know it’s not much?—”

He kissed her soundly on the lips. “It’s perfect, sjellhert. ”

Drake put the ring on his finger, then captured her waist, drawing her close. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, his favorite spot, and he lowered his head so his mouth brushed hers once more.

“Vai levska dey ,” he whispered softly against her lips.

“And what,” Creslyn asked, swaying into his embrace and melting into him, “does that mean?”

His forest green eyes danced as he said, “You’ll figure it out.”

Creslyn smiled, weaving her arms around his waist, letting his kiss take her to the stars…because she already knew.