CHAPTER 32

VIENNE

The blast was so profound it knocked me back until I nearly stumbled to my knees. My ears rang, and the heat from the fireball that had once been the carriage nearly singed my eyebrows.

The shockwave left me momentarily dazed, causing me to waver like a blade of grass in a windstorm as my equilibrium sputtered. Then I blinked, trying to orient myself.

The first thing I was able to hear past the shrill ringing in my own ears was Anniston’s cry as she thrashed against my chest, her fear making her frantic. Then I heard Yasmin’s earsplitting screams next to me, followed by Allera yelling Urban’s name as she raced up the hill toward the fire.

I blinked and shook my head before lifting my hand against the heat to block it from my face, only to see Urban’s unmoving form lying sprawled on the ground next to the flames, covered in black soot, torn clothing, and fallen debris, his arms and legs splayed at odd angles, and more blood gushing from him than I’d ever seen gush from any human.

My mouth fell open because I couldn’t immediately piece together what I was really seeing.

Allera, Brentley, and Nicolette reached him simultaneously, grabbing arms and legs and dragging him safely from the inferno, while Yasmin continued to scream unceasingly and Soren groaned at my feet. Anniston clutched me for dear life, bawling for all she was worth, and I just stood there, too dumbfounded and dazed to immediately react.

Torn with too many tasks—soothe my child, check on my husband, silence my sister, help Urban, and make sure no other threats were approaching—I hesitated, overwhelmed.

“Guard the perimeter,” Allera yelled to her husband as she pulled her own sword from her belt and thrust it at Nicolette. “You too. If someone you don’t know comes near, skewer them through. Got it?”

While both Nicolette and Brentley nodded and raced off in opposite directions to guard us, Allera fell to her knees next to her brother. But before she could check on him, she scowled at Yasmin. “And for God’s sake, someone ~shut~ her up.”

For some reason, that gave me the boost back to reality I needed.

Anniston was still screaming as much as Yasmin, so I pressed her face to my chest, bouncing her in reassurance as I murmured soft hushes in her ear, right before I kicked my sister in the shins and growled, “~Stop~ ~it~. This instant.”

She stopped screaming to blink in shocked confusion at me as if I’d lost my mind, but I merely snarled, “Check on Soren. I need to calm the baby.”

Then I turned away from everyone and began to sing a tune to my child, the very same song Urban had sung to us the night he helped me put her to sleep. Once she quieted down to the occasional shuddered hiccups, I turned back to find that Yasmin had actually followed my command and was helping Soren to his feet.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, using her as a crutch, and tried to step down on his left foot, only to wince and hop on the right.

“You okay?” I asked, drawing near.

He looked up, seemingly dazed. Dirt and black soot were caked to his face and clothes, blood was trickling from one ear, and his hair was a mess, but he looked otherwise fine.

He nodded, confirming it, before turning his gaze toward Allera, where she was sitting on her knees and howling over her fallen brother.

“He saved my life.” Sounding confused, Soren shook his head and urged Yasmin to help him limp toward Urban. “Why would he save my life?”

I held my breath before looking that way myself. I had waited until last to check on Urban because I was too afraid to take in the damage, even though I knew it was already severe. My limbs shook and fear took over as I clutched Anniston a bit tighter than I probably should have and trailed Yasmin and Soren meekly to where Allera was sobbing.

“Don’t try to talk,” she ordered, pressing her fingers to his bloody lips. “Save your strength, Brother. Shh.”

I peered past my husband’s shoulder, only for shock, pain, and disbelief to spiral through me.

“Oh God,” I gasped.

It was worse than I feared. Urban had been torn to bits. His face had been scraped raw and his chest was ripped open, with one arm looking as if a stiff breeze could detach it completely.

Agony choked my throat, stealing my breath while cold, hard dread blanketed me. For the longest moment, it felt as if I were falling, my ears began to ring again, and my vision went gray. When Anniston wiggled against my chest, whining over how tightly I was holding her, I gulped unsteadily and loosened my hold, unable to take my eyes off the man who considered me his one true love—the man I was starting to see as ~my~ one true love.

“Take them… Back… Castle… Safe,” he gasped, reaching for Allera to clutch her sleeve.

He coughed up blood, and I winced, tears pricking my eyes. I couldn’t handle seeing him like this. Couldn’t handle ~any~ of this.

No. It just…it couldn’t be happening. Not to Urban. Not him.

“Get…her…safe,” he tried to tell Allera.

“Shh.” Attempting to quiet him, she shook her head and sniffled before bowing her face and squeezing her eyes closed.

I stepped forward, knowing there was nothing I could do to help but wanting—no, ~needing~—to be by his side.

Sensing me, his eyes roved slowly my way and stopped once our gazes met. Tears skimmed down my cheeks. When a single drop fell from his eye, mixing with blood as it trailed into his ear, a sob shook my shoulders.

“No,” I said.

I knew the exact moment he died. His lips curved as he smiled at me right before the light left his gaze. Then his limp hand slid off Allera’s arm and thumped dully to the earth beside him.

The weight of grief slammed into my chest, stealing my air. I couldn’t summon a single breath as I watched him expire.

“Urban?” Allera opened her eyes and lifted her gaze, only to gasp out a small scream. “~No~! No, you can’t leave me. Oh God, don’t die. ~Urban~.”

Nicolette and Brentley forgot their guarding duties to rush over.

“Oh my God!” Nicolette cried, dropping Allera’s sword so she could slap her hands over her mouth and burst into tears. Then she backed away from the scene, slowly shaking her head in denial.

“Allera,” Brentley murmured, falling onto his knees at her side so he could clasp her shoulder with his hand.

“No,” she growled, shaking him off. “Don’t you dare give me pity. He’s not dead. He ~can’t~ be. He wouldn’t leave me like this.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, trying not to fall apart even though everything inside me was swirling into a strange panic. I felt disjointed, like a puzzle whose pieces were scattering in the wind.

This was just all wrong. It couldn’t be real. Urban was the most vivacious person I’d ever met. He was… He was… He was my one true love, dammit. I didn’t care if we could only be together in dreams; he couldn’t leave ~me~ either.

Soren appeared at my side, shaking his head. “He can’t die like this,” he chanted, looking stricken. “He can’t die like this, not saving ~my~ life. It wouldn’t be fair. He’s supposed to be my enemy, not my fucking hero. Why did he die like this?”

I turned toward him slowly. Urban ~had~ saved him. He could’ve just as easily let Soren blow himself up.

Without my husband keeping us apart, he and I could’ve finally been together.

I knew this was exactly what would’ve happened too. If Soren had died instead of him, I would’ve gone to Urban. In fact, as I stared at my discombobulated husband, it was what I ~wished~ had happened.

But Urban had saved him…for me.

Swerving to me, Soren grasped my elbow. “Vienne, you have to fix this.”

I blinked at him, utterly confused. “~What~?”

“~Fix~ it,” he growled sharply. “Fix him like he fixed you. He brought you back from the dead, didn’t he? Doesn’t that mean you can bring ~him~ back? He can’t die saving me. I won’t allow it.”

“I…” With a gasp, I veered my gaze back to the dead man on the ground. It didn’t seem possible that a simple kiss could fix all ~this~. But the hope that lit inside me had me acting immediately.

I had to at least try.

“Someone hold the baby,” I said, already thrusting my child into Yasmin’s arms.

“Move over,” I told Allera as I stepped across one of Urban’s legs. “I’m going to bring him back.”

The princess merely looked up at me through tear-stained lashes before she shook her head miserably. “I don’t know if you can. You don’t have the mark.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I’m going to try, anyway.” As I knelt next to her, blood instantly soaked my skirt, and a sob worked its way up my throat.

“Oh God. ~Urban~,” I moaned, scarcely able to see him through the thick layer of tears gushing from my eyes.

Even if I could bring him back, it would hurt terribly for him to recover from this. And his arm… How could he ever use that arm again in such a condition?

“I’m sorry,” I gushed. “I’m so sorry.”

This was all my fault. If I hadn’t been so determined to remain married to Soren, then Urban wouldn’t have felt the need to rush in and save him for me, taking his place in the explosion.

Or maybe he would’ve done it for anyone, because he was just that kind of man—a protector.

In any case, “I don’t want you to go yet,” I said softly so only he could hear me. “Not without me.” Gently cupping his face in my hands, I closed my eyes and lowered my mouth to his.

~Please work, please work, please work~, I begged inside my head as his blood smeared against my lips and my tears dripped onto his cheeks. ~I think I love you, dammit. Don’t go yet. Don’t leave me~.

As if hearing my thoughts, he tensed under me. Then he coughed against my mouth.

I jerked upright, wiping blood away from my mouth as he winced and coughed some more before clutching his chest, using the very arm I was sure he’d never be able to use again.

“Urban?” Allera asked, clutching my arm and shaking me in excitement. “Are you…are you okay?”

“Holy shit,” he muttered, squinting his eyes open. “That fucking hurt.” Then he tried to sit up, groaning and swaying until Allera, Brentley, and I surged forward to help him steady himself.

“Whoa there,” Brentley cautioned as he clasped Urban’s shoulder. “Take it easy, mate.”

Urban sent him a confused glance, his eyes still squinted as if everything were too bright for him. “What the hell happened?”

No one immediately answered; we were all too busy exchanging similar glances, amazed he could be sitting up and talking and using both his arms.

He didn’t need an explanation, though. He’d already started piecing everything together. “One moment, it felt as if that damn carriage had blown my entire chest apart, and the next…”

He glanced down at his chest, only to visibly jump when he saw the ragged bits of cloth that had once been his tunic along with blood still smeared across his torso.

He lifted his hand to touch the area, but instead of gaping wounds, his fingers only encountered smooth flesh under the layer of blood.

“How is that even possible?” Yasmin murmured, shaking her head as she gaped over how quickly he’d healed. Even the wounds on his face were gone. “Not even Vienne mended that fast after she was brought back.”

“Brought back?” Urban jerked his face up, focusing immediately on me.

His eyes widened when he took me in. Then he winced. “Oh, damn. Is that ~my~ blood on your mouth?”

Lifting my hand, I wiped at my mouth again.

Urban cringed some more. “Sorry about that,” he offered. “That must’ve been quite unpleasant for you.”

I could only shake my head and laugh. He’d just had his chest ripped apart, arm nearly severed at the shoulder, then died and healed back together again, but he seemed more worried about getting a little blood on me.

“It was worth it,” I said solemnly.

His eyes warmed with pleasure and a small smile bloomed across his face before he glanced around at the others guiltily as if he hadn’t meant for them to see his adoration. Clearing his throat, he turned back to me. “Well, thank you for bringing me back from the dead.”

I started to nod, but Soren burst in with, “She did it at my request. You saved me by pushing me out of the way, so I saved you back by letting her kiss you. So…we’re even now. I don’t owe you anything.”

Urban sent him an incredulous glance before he shrugged and glanced toward Brentley. “We should get everyone back to the castle. Not that I think it’s much safer there. But I feel like a sitting duck out here like this.”

Brentley nodded and helped Urban to his feet while I retrieved my daughter from Yasmin. Allera tried to help Urban walk, but he shooed her away before taking his first experimental step. After a few hobbling shambles, he nodded and announced he was fine.

“I can feel myself mending and getting stronger with each step.”

“Too bad my ~own~ wife can’t heal my twisted ankle so quickly,” Soren grumbled, shuffling along with an even worse limp than Urban’s until Brentley had to lend his own body in support.

“Do you think this was the work of the dark magic bearer?” Nicolette asked as we slowly started our caravan back toward the castle, every single one of us on edge and alert.

“Well, who else could it be?” Yasmin said with an impatient roll of her eyes.

“But who knew we were headed this way?” I said, shaking my head and trying to figure it out. “It was an impromptu outing; we barely spent any time planning it. How would anyone know to set up a trap there…at that time?”

Allera and Brentley exchanged worried glances. “We were actually talking about it all morning. ~Anyone~ in the castle could’ve overheard us and had time to leave that little present in our path.”

Soren snorted. “But who would care so much to go to the trouble of killing ~you~ two?”

“Are you kidding me?” Urban gaped. “The next man in line to the throne and the princess of High Cliff, whose very existence is keeping two kingdoms aligned. Yes, who indeed would concern themselves with such lowly nobodies?” Rolling his eyes, he pointed back toward the carriage we’d left behind. “That was the work of Lowden magic. ~Graykey~ family magic, specifically. They would just love to disrupt any alliance High Cliff has with Donnelly, and killing Allera would do that. ~That’s~ who was behind this.”

“But I thought Father executed everyone from the Graykey family line,” Allera said, shuddering and glancing back toward the carriage as well.

“Most of them,” Urban confirmed on a nod. “All the dangerous ones. But Father was still trying to track down a few who escaped when we left home—ones who hadn’t been involved in the war at the time, but ones who just might be determined to wreak revenge on anyone in our family for what we did to theirs.”

“Great,” Soren sneered. “So you brought the trouble with you when you came to Donnelly. Always lovely to hear.”

Urban shot him a scowl but didn’t have a response. Instead, he glanced my way, and worry littered his features, as if he agreed with Soren. He fully believed he’d personally brought danger into our lives.

Up ahead, a small group of soldiers pounded down the path toward us on horses.

“Oh joy,” Yasmin announced dryly. “The cavalry finally arrived… Nearly a quarter of an hour after we encountered trouble and nearly lost our lives.”

“My lord,” one of the men panted out as he skidded his horse to a stop in front of us, kicking up dust in our path. “We saw the explosion from our post. Is anything amiss?”

Urban sighed and shook his head. “We seriously need to work on your response time, fellows.”