Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 91 - Lance - Enemies & Allies

Everything was going good. Everything was working out even with the ball nearing.

Four kingdoms declared that they would stand next to us on the battlefield, Darius and Claire were just getting happier, the Bhaltayr was overjoyed and changed with their new armor, and Kat was crying at the sight of the silver diadem Clare gifted to her. It was like mine, only it sat cats across her forehead with an amethyst at its center and a written letter tied to it that had her crying with the diadem clutched to her chest.

Everything was going good, and then Alister comes running up to where Kat and I had been enjoying a little peace and quiet and tells us that there's something wrong with my sister.

For an hour we've stood outside of the tent and tried getting inside or communicating with her. Víđarr won't talk or write - or whatever it is he does. He just growls and snaps his teeth so much that he starts to foam at the mouth, and neither he nor any of his wolves will let us within ten feet of the tent. The tent where Darius can't hear her. He can't feel her breathing or speaking, he just knows she's in there and that she's alive. I'd say he's lying if he hadn't gone frantic himself. He sealed off the tent entirely, ensuring that no one would be able to get in if she didn't want anyone in, but also so he'd know if she left. A defensive wall that would harm all but her.

Two hours we paced a safe distance from the wolves, sending whoever was nearby to try and get past them. Gods and their Saints I was so desperate to find out what was wrong with her, that I ran to go find Will and dragged him to the tent. The wolves hesitated to warn him to back off, but it was only a few seconds, and he had to scramble to avoid getting bitten.

We were all getting too desperate and anxious, but Kat got us all to return to the smaller tent and stand around the map filled table. She's been doing most of the talking beside me and Darius, but she's a talker when she's feeling too much for her to handle in silence. The rest of us just answer her questions or finish her thoughts and sentences. Every now and then we'll have actual conversations, trying to finish our plan - her plan.

Another hour has passed and another is nearly done. Vanya left some time ago with Rohana's permission to do so. She said that Branka had returned to Fernweh with a King and his royal guard. That's all the information she currently had, and it's about as much as we've gotten since Vanya misted back home.

I've come up with at least a dozen solid ideas about what could've gone wrong in the seconds Darius and the others said they saw her smiling and laughing, to when she turned and ran inside. A dozen, all of which I can't tell if they're the actual reason or not.

I can't lose her again. I can't see another part of my sister be torn and lost for none of us to dive deep enough to get it. I can't. I made a promise to my father and I failed that. I told myself that I would get her back and never let her go, and yet here we are, left staring at maps that are pointless and mocking.

All of this, and the fighting, the blood, and the pain isn't enough. The loss I've already taken and pushed through isn't enough. Again and again, I get tested. On and on this plague on our lives just keeps eating away at me, spreading like an unkillable virus that my body can't fight off, nor the doctors or a healer cure. I'm going to give up. Sooner or later, I'm going to give up, but I can't. Not now, not later. I just want to lay down and let the world move around me but not touch me. That's all I want to do. My body's tired, I'm tired, and I'm still wearing this fucking itchy crown.

I scratch beneath it for the hundredth time but don't bother to remove it. Kat notices the repeated motion and raises a hand to brush aside a piece of my hair. It probably looks like a long, frantic mess right now.

Her touch is soothing though, and despite the sweat on my brow from the worry, the warmth of her hand feels more like a cooling touch. It slows some of my thoughts and lets me think for more than a single second. I lean into it if only to keep those thoughts silent a little longer. She lets me and continues to run her hands through my hair gently.