The Way We Fall

Chapter 196 (Roche)

The moment the portal disappeared was the moment that Tigris fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Icy terror shot through Roche's chest with the force of a hundred storms.

"Tigris!" she shouted in alarm, racing to her queen's side. Tigris' face was bloodless, her lips thin and white. Her skin was icy to the touch.

Please, Roche thought mournfully, I can't do this. I can't lose you.

Tigris' lips curled. Despite her obvious agony, she smiled at Roche. "It's over," she whispered with relish that sent shivers down Roche's spine. After several long minutes that felt like an eternity, the queen tilted her head up with effort, her eyes closing, "My brother is dead. The war is over. My kingdom is safe."

Roche's breath lodged in her throat. "Yes," she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind Tigris' ear, easing the queen onto her lap. "It's over, Tigris. It's all over."

The world was trembling around her as Tigris gazed up at her, burning, passionate affection blatantly shining from her eyes.

"I... I love you too, Roche," Tigris whispered. It took Roche a moment to realise that it was a reply to their earlier conversation, before Finn had interrupted. Her lips tingled with the memory of their kiss.

Tigris' eyelids fluttered shut. The queen went limp.

"Tigris?" Roche grabbed the queen by the shoulders, giving her a careful shake. Her breath flooded out of her when she got no response. "Tigris, wake up! Circe is coming."

The queen didn't rouse.

A howl rose in Roche's throat. She reached for the queen's sword, placing the worn hilt in the woman's hand.

"There. You have your sword. Wakey wakey! It's time to get up and swing it at me!" Roche pleaded desperately. It was a foolish, irrational move, made by pure instinct alone. Roche wasn't sure why she was even trying it. Tigris didn't move.

Roche sobbed. She wasn't aware of the fact that she was cradling Tigris limp form to her body until she felt cooling blood against her skin, seeping through her clothes. A ragged wail burst out of her. She wasn't aware she was reaching for her inkblood until she was screaming loudly, her ink amplifying her words until they shook the skies.

"CIRCE!" Roche howled, keening all the while like a wounded animal. Tigris' chest jumped at the sound of the cry, but Roche couldn't make herself care. Her hand was resting over Tigris' chest, and all she could feel was a fading heartbeat. Tigris didn't have long. "CIRCE WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I'm almost there," the Striga's whispery voice barely rumbled through Roche's inkblood. Their voice was laboured, exhausted. But Roche couldn't make herself care.

"I'll make you a portal."

"Wait, Ala."

A sound fluttered at the edges of the clearing. Hope buoyed in Roche's chest, so strongly that she gasped. She shot to her feet, Tigris cradled in her trembling arms as a dark silhouette filled the skies, blocking out the stars. Roche watched, unable to breathe as the Striga landed. Their eyes barely glowed. They panted heavily, as if they'd been flying nonstop for hours.

"Please," Roche begged, holding Tigris up.

"Bring her closer, Ala. Lay her on the ground."

Roche obeyed, shaking from head to toe. She held her breath, lungs burning as Circe swept their obsidian feathers across the queen's bloodstained skin. Droplets of blood clung to the Striga's inkblood as they cast a thin blanket of the stuff over Tigris' body. After several moments, the ink rolled off the queen and back towards Circe.