Page 83 of The Dragon Queen
My eyes flicked back up to hers. “Then—then what made you change your mind?”
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded my face, studying me like she could read my past, present, and future in just a single look. “Because your wife got on her knees—and begged.”
My lungs gasped for breath, and my eyes moistened in raw pain.
“And the others begged too.”
All I could do was breathe, breathe through the pain that made me choke.
Riviana stepped forward. “Bahamut claimed your life and brought you to his domain. Now you stand in the Realm of Caelum, a land of eternal healing and peace, because I brought your soul here.”
It took me a moment to understand. “Because I’m still dead…” That was the last moment I would have with Calista when I’d grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Khazmuda’s voice was quiet, so I assumed he couldn’t reach me here.
She gave a slight nod.
“I see…” I should only feel grateful in that moment, but I was disappointed. Disappointed I couldn’t give Calista a proper goodbye and thank her for what she’d done for me. Couldn’t do the same with Khazmuda.
She watched me for a long time, observed me as I processed these emotions. “Bahamut is the God of the Dead. I’m the God of the Living. Which means it’s in my power to return the soul to the body. It’s an act I’ve never performed before because that’s not the natural way of things—but I’ve agreed to makean exception for you because of the exceptional heroism you’ve shown in your short life. If that’s what you wish.”
I felt my heart start to race in my chest. Felt the adrenaline return.
“Your time in the underworld will leave a permanent mark on your vessel. The scars you’ve received in captivity will be a part of you forevermore. As a mortal, you’ll carry that anguish for as long as you live. But if you choose to remain in my lands, my light will heal you and make you whole. It is a heavy decision, Talon Rothschild—because it is irreversible.”
I felt the sky fall on me with the weight of the decision.
“Do not make your decision yet—because someone wishes to speak with you.” Riviana pulled her sword from the ground then cradled the hilt to her chest before she stepped away, most of her leg exposed in the high-cut dress, her heels as golden as her sword.
Then she suddenly appeared before me, midnight-black hair with crystal-blue eyes identical to the cerulean waters that surrounded the cliff of our homeland, her gaze full of the same love that she showed me when we were both alive.
I choked on my breath and felt the tears I didn’t hold back. They dripped down my cheeks and reached my chin before they fell and dropped to the grass below. Every breath hurt because there wasn’t enough air for what my lungs needed. “Vivian…”
She stood in a blue dress similar to the one she wore when we lived together in our home, the color beautiful with her brilliant eyes and dark hair. Her eyes watered like mine, her love enduring despite my failure.
I moved toward her but stopped before I reached her, unsure if I would feel flesh or mist when I tried to touch her. She’d haunted my dreams for so long, accompanied me in my solitude as I sailed across the sea, remained a part of me even years after she was gone. This felt like a dream—and I wanted it to be real.
She raised her hand, her lithe fingertips moving for my chin with painful slowness.
I held my breath as I waited, as I hoped for something I could feel.
Then I felt her touch, felt her cool skin, felt her love transcend through our flesh.
I closed my eyes and let the tears cascade down my cheeks, gave in to the painful sobs that racked my soul. My arms circled her, and I pulled her hard into my chest, my chin resting on her head just as I remembered, our bodies fitting together exactly the way they used to. I sobbed as I held her. “I’m so sorry I failed you.” The last memory I had of her was being dragged to the stake to be burned. At least now that memory had been rewritten with this one. “I’m so sorry.”
We stood that way for a long time, gripping each other tightly like the gods would try to rip us apart.
She was the one to pull away first. “It wasn’t your fault?—”
“Yes, it was.” I shook my head as more tears came. “It was.”
“No.” Both of her hands went to my arms, squeezing me like she had when she’d consoled me after a hard day.
“I could have done more?—”
“A horrible man betrayed us all, and the responsibility lies with him.” She squeezed me again. “You were an honorable man. A great prince. And an even greater husband. I do not hold you responsible in any way—and neither does your family.”
I closed my eyes when I pictured their faces, knowing they were somewhere there, somewhere in the sunshine and the beauty.
She waited for me to look at her before she spoke again. “You slew him. You freed our kingdom from a violent tyrant. You avenged us all. And we’re all so deeply proud of you.”