One year. It had been one year since Iris Gwenneth became the first heroine of Eldia --one year since her life took a dramatic turn for the better. And in this one year, she'd found meaning in the days that had once had none. Iris had a new job, one...
A/N -- So this is long overdue. Surgery recovery + restarting this chapter seven times=late update. So sorry!
Also, check out this cute drawing of Rhalla by SyniaSidhe! I squealed so much at the cuteness.
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Rhalla stayed until Azabela was soundly asleep. Ever since her stunt with the barrels, camp had been quiet. Everyone was resting up before the march inside, which Rhalla was sure would begin soon.
"And you're sure she'll be alright?" the mighty woman asked Sorella, who was prepping for the night ahead of her. It was sure to be a long one.
"So long as you keep everyone out of the tents... yes. She will be fine," Sorella answered. "Away from any further harm, I assure you."
A moment of silence passed. "You must blame me for this," Rhalla motioned to the slumbering huntress. "This wreck of wounds left on her. They make me sore to look at the lot of them."
"Why should I, pray tell? Your hands didn't bruise her."
"Because I blame me," Rhalla took a breath. "If I wasn't so adamant on... ending this. So determined to exact justice... to punish the baron and his men. Or maybe I should have tried harder to convince her to stay home, explained the consequences. Maybe she'd still hear in her ear. Maybe she'd move without pain."
Sorella met Rhalla's gaze. "Touching words. But fruitless ones." The old woman had a seat. "Did I ever tell you about my late husband?"
Rhalla's brow dented. "He's been... mentioned. Once or twice."
"Samhuel Havers was his name," a ghost of a smile passed on Sorella's lips. "He was the good sort of man. He was practical. He loved me and he loved... our daughter. He always played little jokes on us and... we were always laughing. His hands were hard with calluses from the days he'd spend working to keep us fed and sheltered. He loved Azabela too, for the very little time he knew her. He died before she was three. He wasn't in good health the last years of his life, but it was still sudden. Heart attack. He never stood a chance against it."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks. Don't be," Sorella waved it off. "I'm telling you this because Azabela... Well, you have to love someone a whole lot to risk death for them. And with that love... if you'd died..." Sorella took a breath, suddenly looking even older than she was. "When the shock of Samhuel's death wore off and I realized how lonely I would never stop being... I woke up that next morning to find my heart figuratively still. I woke up to a far darker world that day."
Silence. Then, Sorella said, "I'd give up an ear and even more if I could have him back. There are wounds that can tear rifts worse than scars. With your past, I know you can attest to that too. And Azabela would be in far worse shape if you'd died in the explosion. For someone that you love, sacrificing yourself truly does feel the better option. Because there's a difference in being dead... and absolutely wishing you were."
