Queens & Liars-Sequel to Three Broken Kingdoms (Completed)

Chapter Fifty-Four: Goodbye

Layla woke up. For a moment, she remembered nothing. Then it all rushed back. Sh and Talia had made her go and if she was dead, dead, dead forever, she would never get to tell her she was sorry, and that she loved her.

She was in bed. The room was bare, small. Layla barely noticed her surroundings. Talia. Where was Talia? She had to have made it. The healers could have fixed the wound in her stomach. They had dealt with worse. She was alive. She had to be alive.

Julian—Julian had killed Naomi and Elaine and Midas, maybe Talia, too. She hoped her aunt's shot had killed him. If not, she might have returned to finish the job. And she didn't want that sort of anger. Not when she had seen what it did to her aunt.

Layla walked to the door. She needed to see Talia, to know she was alive and that she had made it. If she waited any longer, she knew she would begin to wonder-begin to wonder if-she broke into a sprint, running through the corridors. Once she found her aunt, she would tell her that she forgave her, that she understood, that she loved her so much and that she wanted to hold her close and never let go again.

Layla crashed into a body and stumbled back. She found herself looking into Maia's eyes and a glance was all it took to know that-to know that-

"No," she said. "No!" Her sister wrapped her arms around her, and she collapsed into them, sobbing violently. Talia was gone. She couldn't be gone.
Layla couldn't go on without her. How was she going to fix things now? How was she going to say sorry? To tell her that she loved her, that she forgave her, that she wanted nothing more than to hold her close and shut the world out?

She went to her death thinking that I hated her.

The thought shattered through her, sending another wave of sobs streaming down her cheeks. Talia had died for her, still thinking that Layla wanted

nothing to do with her. Now she would never know how much she loved her, how much she needed her. Talia was gone, gone forever and she would never see her half-smile. Never run to her and hid away from the rest of her arms. Her last piece of family was gone and now she was adrift, a lone person lost in a stormy sea. The world suddenly seemed so vast and so empty. No one would ever love her like Talia had. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. A great and heavy despair was taking over, drowning her.

"You're not alone," Kestra's soft voice filled the air. "You're not alone, Layla. I'm here. I'm here." Her sister's warm arms wrapped tighter and tighter around her and Layla fell deeper into them, letting the sobs wrack her body and the tears fall down her face freely.

"Layla," the voice was distant, far-away. She turned to face its owner and found herself staring into Myra Isidore's dark blue eyes. Except this time instead of cold and fierce they were...compassionate. Understanding. The valkyrie reached for her hand and squeezed tightly. Layla squeezed back.

Something flickered in the War-Queen's eyes. A dark, cold rage that Layla had sometimes seen in Talia.

"What happened?" Myra asked. "To you and Talia?"

Layla took a shuddering breath and told them everything.

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"Julian's alive." Myra said, shaking her head. "I always hated him. Came close to killing him once, back in the old war. Wish I'd managed it."

"Are you sure Tyrion's dead?" Nala asked. Layla nodded.

"And Julian?" Myra pressed. She only shrugged. Honestly, she wasn't sure. It had been a shoulder wound and a deep one. According to Myra, it might have hit an artery. But there was no way of knowing. And whilst one part of her wanted him dead, another, darker part of her wanted him to be alive. If only she could kill him herself. Layla pushed that part down, down, down. She didn't want to become like Talia, angry and bitter and vengeful.