The Heartstone Saga, Archibald Bradford [the snowy day read aloud TXT] 📗

on a chair and humming a lullaby over Nameless’s prone form on the bed where he slept wrapped in Volka’s wings and softly glowing aura.

The Flutterby was just as weary as anyone, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep, too afraid of the haunting dreams that would likely come if she did.

Dreams of Nameless’s lifeless lips against hers.

“How’s our boy?” Paul asked quietly from the door, the only one brave enough to enter the house.

She looked up at him and smiled a tired smile.

“Still out of it. I don’t know when he will wake up.”

Left unsaid was whether or not he even would: after reprimanding them for getting angry with Volka, he had fallen so deeply unconscious that they couldn’t rouse him.

The other girls were downstairs, forcing themselves to eat even as Helena, Milly, and Erica comforted Escrya after her loss, the four of them surrounded by Cockatrices.

Disturbed by the noise in the room, Volka shifted slightly; her golden eyes opened, but upon seeing that everything was safe, soon closed again.

Ophelia and Paul both lowered their voices.

The old man came over to the bed and put his arm around the Flutterby’s shoulders, squeezing tight and giving her a reassuring little shake.

“You should get some kip yourself. You look ready for it.”

She smiled again, but didn’t look ready to comply, so he didn’t push it.

There was a long minute of silence, wherein the farmer pulled up another chair to sit in vigil.

In fact there was a hush all around them, enforced by the ring of fierce Amazons standing guard outside the house, hell-bent on ensuring that their Valkyrja-datta’s rest remained undisturbed by the goings on of the world.

The only reason they’d let Paul and his flock inside was that Helena was with them, and even then they’d entered under threat of violent death should they break the rules.

He would find the whole thing bloody hilarious, if worry for Nameless hadn’t prevented it.

Ophelia drew in a deep breath as she absently stroked her bond-mate’s cheek with the back of one finger.

“We’d like to take him home, if that’s alright.” She finally sighed as she looked to Paul again; “None of us have any interest in going all the way back to Garland right now. And technically we’re homeless anyways.”

He snorted as he took up his carving knife and began to whittle away at a random stick he’d picked up outside, making sure that the shavings all landed on a little cloth he had laid out in his lap.

“Not so long as I’m breathing. I already did the paperwork, cottage is his. Truth be told, it’s just about been his since he and Milly first set foot in it.”

Unsurprised, the Flutterby simply nodded.

Even if Nameless took it somewhat for granted, she knew how much he meant to Paul.

Moving with care she lay down on the bed, half of her body on top of her bond-mate, Volka’s wing shifting to give her room.

Things were still a bit strained between them, but they both knew that they would get past it, eventually.

“It will be good to be home again.” Ophelia slurred as her eyes drifted closed, the Flutterby trusting the beloved old man to watch over them.

__________

In the days that followed the historic battle outside Wayfelt, a great many things happened.

For one thing, the massive pressure that was within Garland eased off as fearful refugees returned to their homes, though a few of them had actually made a life for themselves there and chose to remain.

Their numbers were more or less balanced out by others who now struggled to recognize the broken streets as the city they once knew, the pain of loss clinging to the very stones of the place and making it impossible for them to remain.

And yet more felt that they did not belong anywhere at all anymore.

Such was the case for Adrian Shaw.

His task was done, and now he had nothing left to keep him going.

With no bond-mate and having already endured so much, he’d been assigned to protect the city when Volka led the others to face Evadne.

Which was just as well, because returning from the wilds to discover yet another enemy that needed to be dealt with was too exhausting for Adrian to imagine.

Everywhere he looked there was evidence of the troubled times: destruction wrought by the Ogre raid on the city, a couple arguing in the street, a small child crying for a mother nowhere to be found.

It soon overwhelmed him and he sank onto a damaged bench, his weight making it shift and creak beneath him.

Despite what Volka had told him, it was so much easier not to care.

He didn’t want anything anymore.

There was no more life left in him, just dark thoughts and dark emotions.

Were he left alone in that moment it was very likely that he would have followed his beloved Truffle into death.

But fate had other things in store for him.

A hand settled on his shoulder, clawed fingers gently squeezing him to rouse him from his spiral.

“Are you okay sugar?”

He lifted his face out of his palms to see a cream-coloured Katje looking down at him, a worried frown on her face and compassion in her eyes.

Some small part of him must have realized that he made for a sorry sight, so Adrian wiped at his face and stood up, the Katje’s hand falling away from his shoulder as he did.

“I’m alright.” He tried to reassure her, but there was no energy in his words.

She nodded slowly at his obvious lie.

“You guys have had a rough time of it lately.”

It actually took him a minute to remember that he was in uniform and he shifted on his feet self-consciously when he did.

“Oh, um, yeah.