Page 100 of The Fury She Holds
Tal stood naked before the king, her clothes having been burned away when she released her fury, and with the last beat of her magic, a single tear escaped her eye and traveled down her cheek. All at once, she felt too tired to continue.
Faron reached for her, and she collapsed in his arms, sobbing with what little energy remained. Egan came forward and covered her with his shirt. Faron wrapped the fabric around her and held her tight. “It’s over. You’re safe. We’ve got you,” he comforted.
Tal fought the exhaustion for a few more breaths and then finally relaxed in Faron’s arms, letting a peaceful darkness pull her under.
27
Tal stood next to another version of herself. The two observed the forest surrounding them, the same one from two nights ago. Soon, people started coming out of the shadows between the trees. Men, women, and children stalked toward them. They didn't say anything. Their expressions remained flat.
They approached slowly, forming a circle around the two Talwyns. Her mirror met her gaze and smiled, letting go of her hand, and stepping into the group. She gently brushed her hand along the shoulder of the first person she reached, and the woman burst into flame, her face to the sky in a silent scream of agony. To her horror, the other Tal continued to set fire to the entire forest—trees, people, and all. She watched, rooted to the spot, as every last living thing around her died a gruesome death.
Hours later, the ground lay black with smoke rising to a cloud covered sky. It blurred her vision. She coughed but made no sound. She stood next to a middle-aged man with a button nose. His warm brown eyes peered down at her with pure devastation in his gaze. The handsome face was ruined by his grimace. He didn’t try to talk to her. Instead, a single tear created atrack through the soot on his cheek. He nodded and Tal’s own eyes welled up with tears of their own. She blinked, and he disappeared.
She stood alone in the open field ruled by destruction. When a light breeze blew the smoke away, she saw the bodies among the ash. Death surrounded her. She walked for hours. Ash left the ground in clouds with each careful step. A hand grabbed her own, and she met Faron’s eyes. His mouth moved, but she heard nothing. The silence was deafening. She tried to tell him she couldn’t hear him, but he kept repeating. Ringing started in her ears. It grew in volume. Faron kept trying to tell her. The ringing became painful. It would burst her eardrums.
“What?!” she screamed at Faron.
“You have to stop it! You have to save them!”
Her eyes searched the scorched field around them. The bodies had disappeared. She turned back and Eddard stood in Faron’s place. Grief pulled at his features.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Tal cried.
Warmth slapped across her face. A red line split Eddard’s head and his body fell away. Behind him stood the other Tal, a bloody, malicious grin on her face.
Sobs shook her awake. She clung to the blanket that enveloped her, muffling her cries into the tear-stained pillow. Strong arms held her tight, grounding her to the space that she once called home.
“I’ve got you.” Faron spoke in a low cadence.
The sound reverberated through her system. Her fury clung to it. Her body relaxed in its waves.
“You’re safe now.”
She tangled her legs in his, wishing it was enough to keep her from drifting into the dreams that tortured her every time she closed her eyes.
“You’re home.”
Home. That word. She knew he meant the tunnels. She knew he meant among her friends. But what was that word? Shelter? Among family? Home was supposed to mean safe. Yet her own mind brutalized her. Nowhere was safe.Nowherewas home.
28
Chills tickled Talwyn’s scalp and crawled along her spine. “When did you learn how to braid?” she asked the king.
Faron’s soft chuckle had become so familiar the last two days. “Did you know that braided rope is stronger, more flexible, and less prone to kinking?”
Tal leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Still answering a question with another question.” She breathed in the lavender and rosemary that filled the air around him. She didn’t know if he continued to use the feminine soap for her sake, or if he truly ran out of the clove and citrus like he claimed.
His arms came around her, and he nestled into her neck, a gesture that had quickly become familiar since Tal’s rescue.
“He’s still here?” Egan asked from outside Tal’s room. It was now common to have an audience in the tunnel. The group had taken it upon themselves to ensure Tal knew she was not alone. The only time she'd been afforded privacy was when she promised to gift each of them a rotten fish under their pillows if they didn't go to their own rooms.
“I don’t see him leaving until the end of summer,” Sybil yelled, her tone sardonic. “At this rate, we won’t find the witchling until she’s died of old age.”
Tal sighed audibly, attempting her usual tempered tone, but it fell flat. “Fine. I’m getting up.”
Faron’s hold on her tightened for a fraction of a second before he kissed her neck and released her.
“Good!” Sybil called. “You need to thank her for sending that note.”
