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Lorcan couldn’t find Elide.
The battle had ended hours ago, the reek of the Valg still invading Lorcan’s senses as he searched and searched, looking for the woman he vowed to protect.
The woman he failed to protect.
The woman he’d failed several times, now.
The first, he supposed, was betraying Aelin. He regretted it. Every second, every minute he lived in his own personal hell, reliving his choice over and over in his dreams, his nightmares. Every night he saw Elide’s face, the hurt flash across her features while Maeve picked Elide’s queen—broken and utterly defeated—up, and into the iron coffin. He could do nothing but watch the horrors unfold, bound to the blood oath, Maeve’s smile a permanent brand. And every night, before he woke up in a sweat, tears in his eyes, Elide would look him with her dark eyes and utter “this is your fault, Lorcan. Your fault.”
And then, as if that weren’t enough, Maeve thrusted a sword through Elide, right through the heart, killing her. When he would wake up, disoriented and scared, worried Elide was truly gone. But she was there, in the tent across the way, perfectly unharmed.
The first time he had this nightmare, he nearly sprinted into her tent, breathless as he opened the flap, searching for her. She only glared, hatred in her eyes, as he quickly apologized and left for his own tent.
Only once he was alone did he weep. He would not let anyone see it, the vulnerability. Lorcan was a soldier, a brute against the enemy, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let his companions know otherwise. Let them think him heartless if it helped them on the battlefield. If it helped him protect Elide.
He would do anything, if it meant protecting the woman he loved.
Even if she kept hating him, he would protect her. And he would do anything if it meant earning Elide’s trust again. Even if she never loved him again, he would atone—would keep atoning and praying to the Gods for her forgiveness.
In the meantime, though, he would keep her safe.
Every battle they fought against the Valg, he was right beside her, killing any creature that dared to get too close to her. Whether Elide noticed or not, it didn’t matter. He would keep his promise to her—he would keep the love of his life safe at all costs.
After every battle, he would search her out, just to make sure she was safe. Protected, using his magic to shield her tent and her, should she choose to leave. She never said anything about it, and Lorcan didn’t expect her to, if she even noticed it.
Tonight, though, he couldn’t find her. His magic couldn’t touch her, couldn’t sense her, as it normally did.
His heart lurched a bit. If Elide was hurt…
But there, a light in the darkness. The lake.
As if guided on instinct alone, he followed the trail to the nearby pool of water, right through the copse of trees. Right to Elide, sitting on the bank, her feet in the water, her dark hair braided down her back.
Gods, she was beautiful.
She didn’t seem to notice him as he strolled up next to her, silent, and took a seat next to her. He braced his arms, keeping him upright on the grass, and put his feet in the water. Right next to hers.
Elide didn’t so much as look at him, not when his feet splashed gently into the water, and certainly not when he turned to look at her, his eyes full of hurt and longing.
“Elide,” he whispered, if only for himself to hear. This was the closest he’d been to her in weeks.
And to his surprise, she turned to him, angling her body towards his. But there was no kindness on her face, not as she looked at him and simply asked, “what do you want?”
“I—I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I couldn’t find you…after,” he said. Gods, he hadn’t stumbled over his words in ages. This witch, this woman, Elide…
“Well, I’m safe, and you can leave me be now,” she said, turning back towards the lake.
He wanted to reach out, to take her hand in his and tell her everything. He wanted to tell her the truth of what happened at the beach, why he’d called Maeve, his love for her, that threatened to consume him at every moment…he wanted to explain, needed to explain. Elide deserved that.
And maybe, just maybe, after he explained it all…Elide would speak to him again. Eventually.
He prayed to the Gods for that day to come.
But he couldn’t take her hand, not when she looked at him with such cold eyes before turning away from him, effectively dismissing him.
Lorcan took the hint. So he stood up, the grass crunching under his boots, and uttered two words.
“I’m sorry.”
And then he was off, back to the camp, to the nightmares.
Lorcan realized two things by the time he reached his tent. He loved Elide. He would always love Elide.
But he understood, now, that though he loved her, she would never love him.
She would never love him again.
That night, Lorcan fell asleep repeating the same sentence, over and over.
She will never love you, she will never love you, she will never love you.
***
Lorcan awoke to a silver-haired warrior slapping him across the face.
“Wake—up—you—bastard,” Rowan said, until Lorcan jolted upright, looking at the male in front of him.
“What do you…” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Is he awake yet?” called a female voice from outside, “he nearly woke the entire camp with his screams.”
Well, that explained why his throat hurt.
“He’s awake,” Rowan called out, and then turned to look at Lorcan. “In all our years together, I’ve never heard you scream like that. And from a dream, no less—”
“A nightmare,” Lorcan said plainly.
Rowan continued. “You’ve decimated armies and seen bloodshed even I couldn’t stomach. What did you see, Lorcan, that made you scream?”
“Betrayal. I saw betrayal.”
“You’re going to need to be more specific than that, Lorcan,” said the female voice—Aelin—as she sauntered into his tent, taking a seat next to Rowan. “Tell us what you saw.”
A growl formed in his throat as he looked to the queen, eyes narrowed. “It is none of your business.”
“Like hell it isn’t. If you’re going to wake the entire camp up, risk the Valg hearing you scream, you’re telling us.”
“No.”
Flame danced around her fingertips. “What if the Valg heard your screams, Lorcan. What if they found our camp and attacked while we were asleep? If they took Elide?”
“Don’t you dare say that.”
“I will. Because tonight, you put her at risk. Now, tell us what you saw. What you dreamt.”
Lorcan’s rage simmered. To put Elide at risk…no, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He doubted Aelin—or Rowan, for that matter—could stop the nightmares, but if they could help, could keep Elide safe…
Lorcan sighed. “Elide. I—I saw Elide. And she was dead by Maeve’s hands.”
Aelin’s eyes widened. “Rowan, leave us,” she said, looking to her mate.
“Are you sure?”
“I need to talk to Lorcan.”
***
“Tell me everything,” Aelin said to Lorcan as soon as they were alone.
He cocked his head. “Why should I?”
“Because I can help, you bastard. I…I’ve had dreams like that before, too. Exactly like that, actually. With Rowan.”
Maybe the bitch-queen could help him, after all. So he took a deep breath and told Aelin every detail of his nightly nightmare. By the time he got to Maeve, tears fell down his face. Aelin reached out for his hand, and gave it a squeeze. Understanding.
When he was done, Aelin told him her nightmares, where Rowan was the one kidnapped, forced into the iron coffin and killed by Maeve as soon as Aelin found him, whipped and beaten beyond repair. She held him in her arms, bleeding, until he took his last breaths. And when Aelin was done telling the horrors she’d faced, she was crying, too, the tears spilling down her cheeks for the male she loved.
“It doesn’t matter that it’s not real,” she said, “it feels real. And when I wake up…the first thing I do is reach for him. To know that he’s real, he’s safe, and he’s alive. With me.”
Lorcan nodded. He would probably do the same, if…
If he hadn’t betrayed Elide.
If she would ever forgive him.
If she would ever share a bed with him.
She will never love you. Never forgive you for what you’ve done.
As if reading the words stuck on his lips, Aelin said, “She will forgive you, Lorcan. Eventually.”
Aelin didn’t realize how wrong she was, Lorcan thought.
Lorcan shook his head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Will you ever forgive me? For betraying you?”
“Lorcan,” she started, smiling a bit, “I forgave you a long time ago.”
“How,” he breathed. If Aelin could forgive him…maybe he did have a chance, after all.
“I knew you’d summoned her the moment your magic left the ship, searching into the world. I’d felt it before…when I summoned the Valg to Skull’s Bay. You saw the ships in the distance and acted on instinct. I’d be a liar if I said I wouldn’t have done the same. Lorcan, you called to the female you trusted, to protect the woman you loved—love,” Aelin amended, “When I was taken, I could see you fighting the oath, trying to go to Elide. To protect her. I knew you realized your mistake, then. When I was put into that rutting coffin…I had already forgiven you. You tried to protect Elide. If it were Rowan…if the tables were turned, I would’ve done the same. So I understood. And I forgave you. Even as Cairn was whipping me, I forgave you.”
Aelin—of all people, Aelin forgave him. He’d never shown her a lick of kindness, he’d betrayed her and allowed her to be taken by Maeve, but…he forgave her.
“Thank you,” was all he could say. All he could muster.
The Queen squeezed his hand. “It might take time, but Elide will forgive you. You have to remember, Lorcan, you hurt her. In her eyes, you were a traitor, no matter your intentions. Give her time.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know,” she said, and gave him a hint of a smile, “one day she will forgive you. I promise. In the meantime, if you ever need to talk, if the nightmares become too much, I will be there, whenever you need it. No questions asked.”
“Thank you, Aelin,” he breathed, watching her leave his tent.
“You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call me by my name.”
As she left, Lorcan felt a smile tug at his lips, genuine and real and full of hope. He didn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt anything like it.
“Hope,” he said, smiling. Aelin had given him hope for the future.
For Elide.