To Rule the Alpha's Heart

38. Love and Loss

EINARR FJERSTÄD

The Dothakan River ran from the peaks of the northernmost mountain in Nortend to the easternmost coast, spilling into the dark and deep waters that separated continents. It steadily flowed half-a-day's journey from the Salt Caves, with downstream currents strong enough to carry a small ship to the ocean in a day – maybe two.

A quick escape on a fast longship. That was the best that Einarr could offer his little mate now.

Cyril's words weighed heavy on Einarr's shoulders for the rest of the evening after their talk. I know you love her, too. So I am begging you, Einarr... Spare her from this war. Send her away. Hide her.

Einarr never once considered sending Calla away. How could anywhere be safer for her than by his side? And yet, for the first time in Einarr's life... He was scared.

He didn't immediately make the decision to send Calla back to Eatrela. Having made his plea, Cyril left Einarr to his thoughts. He stared at the crackling embers for many hours, contemplating the consequences of his actions. Imagining a few years without Calla's jewel-like eyes and adoring smile. Without her touch. Just when Einarr nearly decided that he wouldn't be able to live without her, he forced himself to imagine an entire lifetime without her. He imagined what she might endure if Cyril's fears came to fruition.

The translator was right. As long as Rangvald remained alive, Calla would not be safe anywhere in Nortend.

The sun had long-since disappeared behind the mountains when Einarr emerged from the dome. He felt weak– numb – despite the resolve in his heart.

Calla would not leave willingly. Einarr knew that with certainty, so he slipped into the city of tents and searched for a familiar scent. A way to allow Calla to sleep while he whisked her to safety. After securing the sleep-inducing incense from its merchant, Einarr returned to the Onyx Craven camp and made his final plans.

At moon high, Einarr slipped into his shared tent with Calla. He expected his little drekihjar to be deep asleep, but she stirred upon his entrance.

"You should be sleeping, marana," Einarr chided, forcing a small smile on his lips and tucking the vial of liquid sleep into his waistband.

It felt like a chasm cracked open in his chest when Calla pushed onto an elbow and offered him a sleepy grin. "I wanted to say goodnight to you."

Tendrils of messy, white-blonde hair framed her delicate features, and Einarr recalled the first time he laid eyes on her. She'd been so afraid, cowering against the cobblestones of her homeland. He could scarcely believe that the same woman now gazed upon him with affection in her eyes. Love.

"How was the war council?" she prompted, as Einarr stooped to lower himself onto the furs by her side.

"Long," he answered, attempting to hide the thickness in his throat.

Calla chuckled, reaching a hand out to weave through his dark braid, loosening the locks. "But fruitful?"

Einarr nodded, unable to help himself from leaning in to press his lips to the corner of her lips. "I know what I must do, now."

"Mm," Call hummed, smiling against his kiss. "And what is that?"

Einarr felt his throat tighten and abruptly pulled away. He couldn't falter now.

"I have something to give you, first," he murmured, intentionally avoiding her gaze so that she might not see the turmoil behind his eyes. Eyes downcast, he pulled the little vial from his waistband, the mead-colored liquid sloshing within the glass. "A gift. You enjoyed the smell of the perfumes on our walk to the Salt Caves, yes?"

Calla's eyes widened, and she smiled as she took the vial from Einarr's fingers. "Yes, I did. Thank you, maranome."

Her words sounded so sincere – so unsuspecting. The chasm in Einarr's chest widened, and he nearly doubled over in pain. Especially as she gently pulled the cork out of the vial's neck and lifted the potion to her nose. She inhaled, deep.

"It's beautiful," she murmured. "Like honey and... and..."

Calla's words slowed, and her eyelids immediately began to droop. She nearly dropped the vial, but Einarr quickly took the glass before it could spill. "E-Einarr?" she gasped, his name slurring on her tongue.

"I'm sorry, drekihjar," he whispered, instinctively moving to hold her shoulders steady as she swayed back, her neck rolling as she lost control of her muscles and consciousness. "I'm so sorry."

"E-E-Ein–" Calla's eyes fell shut. Einarr's chest felt like it had been split in two, and he gently lowered her to the blankets and furs.

"Sleep now, my love," he tried to whisper, but the words caught in his throat. No longer able to speak, he bent his head to rest his forehead against Calla's.

A single, rogue tear slipped from his eye, falling to mingle with a collection of tears that had spilled onto Calla's own cheeks in the moments before sleep took her. In the moments when she realized what Einarr had done...

I love you. Sleep now. When you wake, you'll be on your way to a safer world.