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He swore under his breath, hazel eyes shining with grief as he looked down at his friend.
“It is not that bad,” Rythos snapped, stubbornness sharpening his voice as he tried to push himself upright.
Solas planted a hand against his shoulder and forced him gently back into the pillows.
“Will you stay with him while I go with Helion to see Cerilla?” I asked, unable to keep the worry from my voice. My gaze dropped to the wound that still refused to close. “She might know how to help him.”
“I do not need—”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Solas spoke straight over him, his hand remaining firmly on Rythos’ shoulder. “I will not leave his side.”
Some of the tightness in my chest loosened.
I bent over Rythos and pressed my lips to his forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than I needed to. His skin was still frighteningly cold beneath my mouth.
“Please,” I whispered against him. “Just rest. I promise that I won’t be long.”
His jaw tightened as though even surrendering to sleep was another battle he intended to win.
I brushed my thumb across his temple before forcing myself to pull away.
“I might be weakened right now, but if you do not turn around so Lyra can get dressed, I will let my shadows turn your insides to liquid,” Rythos rumbled weakly.
“And I will drink the liquid and shit it out,” Helion grinned dangerously from behind him, walking up to clasp a hand on his shoulder. “Turn the fuck around.”
“Oh, good, you have two overprotective guard dogs now.” Solas raised his eyebrows at me before shaking his head and facing the wall.
I dressed quickly, promising Rythos I would return before the sun disappeared beneath the horizon.
His tired gaze followed me as I crossed the cabin, and when my hand closed around the door handle, the bond between us tugged painfully beneath my ribs, as though some part of him already knew I was walking towards something neither of us could take back.
I looked over my shoulder one last time.
Solas sat beside him, arms folded across his chest like an unmoving guard, while Rythos had already sunk deeper into the pillows, his black curls damp against his forehead and the colour slowly draining from skin that had once felt indestructible beneath my hands.
I closed the door before he could see my face crumble.
Helion waited for me in the corridor, but I barely registered him as I pressed my palm against the wood behind me, fighting the desperate urge to turn around, crawl back into that bed and pretend there was still enough time to find another way.
But there wasn’t.
Rythos was dying.
The kingdoms were dying.
And somewhere on the ship cutting silently through the fog beside ours was the one person who could make sure I escaped long enough to fix what I had broken.
Cerilla.
Without her magic, Rythos and Helion would be after me the moment I disappeared beneath the water. I knew they would find me.
And I knew, with a certainty that hollowed out my chest, that if either of them reached me before I made it to the throne, then I would never get another chance.
Chapter Forty-Four
Quiet Goodbyes
Lyra
