Chapter 23

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One of Theron's arms began to unwrap from around her. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to feel the coldness that would sweep in where his arms once were. She could admit she was afraid in her mind of what would happen. Uttering the words out loud was another story she didn't know if she could do.

Theron bent down and swooped his arm under her knees, and lifted her off the ground. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent she thought she'd never smell again. Her throat clogged while tears still poured from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks in slow, steady flows.

"Asher?"

"He's being tended to. He'll live, though," Theron said softly.

She would have missed his words if she wasn't so close to his face. She could tell Theron walked by how his muscles moved and the slight breeze against her skin. It sent a jolt of guilt straight to her heart that weighed heavy like acid. Eating away every possible thing she could have done differently.

"Don't. Don't you dare think that anything could have been done differently. Not a single thing was your fault. If there's anyone to blame, it's me."

Lydia shook her head against his chest. There was no way he was to blame. He wasn't the one sought after for a power she finally knew she didn't even possess. If she couldn't stop a dragon, how did she have the power to destroy the Kingdom as the royal family thought?

Answers were needed, and everything seemed lost when no one knew the full prophecy. Everything would have been answered if she could have gotten her hands on whatever piece of paper it was written on. Kian was useless. He'd always smirk at her and tell her she didn't need to know since she would never leave there to have the half he was worried about come true.

It was laughable. A laugh she couldn't contain bubbled up from the pit in her stomach. It bounced off against the dark-colored walls. The sound came out soft, rising into a burst of maniacal laughter. She had escaped-or rescued, but she'd take it as a slap in Kian's face nonetheless. Oh, how she wished she could have seen his face before she was whisked away by Theron. The utter fury his face would have contorted into and the explanation he would have to give. Her laugh died down into choked sobs.

An explanation that she was sure he would twist to fit his needs. That thought unsettled her, but she pushed it down to revel in the bit of glory she got from being out of arms reach of him and Launt.

Lydia felt herself lower in Theron's arms and thought he would put her down before the click of a doorknob met her ears. Her fingers regripped his shirt while he straightened up and walked through the door. There was no other way to explain why she didn't want to let go of him yet, other than she felt like he would disappear before her eyes once she did, and she'd be back standing in front of Kian with the priest's words finishing the ceremony. If she had to leave, it would be by force when she was shaken awake harshly.

Theron stopped in the room, setting her down slowly. He didn't let go of her when she made no move to let go of him. His hand wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her head into his chest again. Her head moved when he heaved a sigh. His words of reassurance settled over her head and drifted down to her ears. She felt far from okay. The only thing grounding her was his arms around her, the rough edge in his tone when he spoke to her, and knowing they had saved Asher. Whoever they were.

Slowly, she let her grip loosen on his shirt. Her hands began to shake while her vision grew hazy around the edges. Rough hands grabbed hers, holding them with tender care she hadn't had in what felt like ages. She looked up when she felt softness meet her knuckles. Theron was inches from her face, his lips on her skin. A warmth spread from her hands, traveling down to her heart. She had never seen Theron be tender before. He was always awkward when knowing what he should and shouldn't say. He was different from the last time she had seen him. It made the small affection that settled in her heart diminish a tad at how much more she had missed out on in the time she was gone.

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