How had this happened? And oh, Deity, what had he done? Thrown her. Hit her. Choked her. Zacharel released his grip on the sword, the flames instantly dying away. Shame unfurled inside him, dropping him to his knees.
No wonder he could smell Annabelle on her. She truly was Annabelle. And he had hurt her. Hurt her terribly. He would never be able to forgive himself.
He remained in place as she closed the distance between them. “I am sorry, so sorry, Annabelle.” Would he never take proper care of her? Would he always bring her pain?
Her head tilted to the side, as if she heard him, understood him, but the crimson in her eyes brightened, as if she cared not about his apology. And in the ensuing minutes, she proved that very thing. Her claws slashed at him, her little fists beat at him. She twirled with a skill she had not previously possessed, cutting at him with the tips of her wings.
Not once did he attempt to stop her. He deserved this. He deserved this and so much more, and if she wanted to take his head, he would give her his head. I’m worse than any demon.
Finally, though, she jumped away from him and stopped, just stopped and blinked.
“Annabelle?”
She wavered, closed her eyes. A moment passed before she was able to refocus, but when she did, he realized her irises had returned to that startling shade of ice-blue.
“Annabelle!” He leapt to his feet.
“Zacharel?” At least, he thought she’d said his name. The word was jumbled, nearly inaudible.
“I’m here.” Steps slow and measured, he approached her. He didn’t want to rattle her.
As though a strong wind had just slammed into her, she teetered over, fell.
He whipped into motion, catching her before she hit and easing her down. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know it was you.”
Tears filled her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. “Zacharel,” she repeated in that same broken tone.
“Yes, love. I’m here.”
A gurgle of panic left her. Was she scared of him now?
She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut. “Did I…kill you?”
Her poor mind couldn’t distinguish between reality and nightmare. “No, love.” He caressed a fingertip along her bruised jaw. Hadrenial had pleaded for death. Annabelle had pleaded for life. Look what he’d done to them both. Hate myself.
How many hours, days, weeks had he agonized over his decision to do what his brother asked and strike the killing blow? And afterward, when the decision had been made and the action done, how hard had he cried? So hard he’d broken nearly all of his ribs. So hard he’d vomited blood. But even then, he hadn’t wanted to die himself. He’d wanted to live and avenge. Now, he would have welcomed a killing blow.
“You didn’t kill me. I live.”
She coughed, a trickle of blood sliding from the corner of her mouth. When she settled, she whispered, as though ashamed, “Something’s…wrong…me.”
His voice remained low, gentle. “I know, love, but we’ll find a way to fix you.”
“Demon…in cloud…he waited, tried to take brother…I—”
“Shh. Don’t worry about that right now.”
Still she persisted. “Didn’t let… Fought.”
“I know, love, I know, so tell me what happened later, all right? Right now, I want you to drift off to sleep. All right? I will protect you, I swear it.”
“No! Listen!” she said with a sudden burst of strength. “You can’t leave the demon behind….” Her body sagged, the strength gone as quickly as it had arrived. “Have to take him…with you…” Muscles going limp. “His body…please.”
Understanding at last dawned. The slain demon must now carry Hadrenial’s essentia. And she had been carting that heavy weight around, trying to escape, fighting for her life, because she had vowed to protect Zacharel’s greatest treasure.
“I won’t leave him behind, love. Sleep now,” he said again. In sleep, she would not feel the pain. She would heal.
She had better heal.
“Thank you,” she said on a sigh, her head lolling to the side, but her eyes blinked open, as if she didn’t trust him enough to do as he’d asked.
Thank you, she’d said.