The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 20: Conquerors: Section II: Aurelius

Aurelius: The Palace: Qemassen

"There's still time. I could ride after her and bring her back." Aurelius was halfway to his chamber door when Hima's words stopped him with the force of a wall forming in his path.

"She didn't want you to go after her." Hima sighed in a way that made it clear the sound was meant to cover her judgemental tone. She added, more softly: "She never loved you, Aurel. Eaflied told me everything." Hima's pathos was worse than her coldness.

Never loved him. The words twisted inside him. It couldn't be true. He couldn't lose Bree along with everyone else.

Aurelius eq-Eshmunen had returned to a city half-drowned, whose only victory in war seemed to have been that at least some of her remained standing. The Lora had no such hope to cling to. What few men had survived the harrowing of the city had been summarily rounded up and imprisoned. The majority of the Lora force had either drowned or been buried beneath Qwella's tunnels, and though Qemassen's navy had also sustained heavy casualties and widespread destruction, their losses had been few by comparison.

Few.

Qwella and Ashtaroth were both missing, presumed dead. Hima's scouts had apparently scoured the streets and even the outlying hills for Ashtaroth. That nothing had been found suggested he'd somehow escaped his room and been killed in the chaos. And Qwella—Aurelius grew choked at the thought of her.

Qanmi's youngest daughter said Qwella had been crushed in the tunnels along with the Lora soldiers she'd been trying to fight off.

Aurelius hadn't been here to save her. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to either of them. And now, Hima lay in front of him telling him his wife had fled. He'd lost nearly everyone he cared for in the span of a few days. Maybe a few hours.

She hadn't ever loved him.

"And Bree told her mother that, did she?" Aurelius's smile was tight.

Hima's bruised face smiled back at him—her own attempt at acting human. She lay back on her settee, holding her hand to her bandaged side. She was almost as much of a wreck as Qemassen was—her leg broken, arms sprained. Four burly slaves had been forced to carry her to Aurelius's rooms. She'd narrowly avoided death.

Instead of stewing on what was lost, Aurelius should focus on the people who remained. None of what Bree had done was Hima's fault. She was just the messenger.

But fresh from the road, Aurelius was still in shock.

Qwella. Ashtaroth. Bree. All gone in a hair's breadth. Aurelius had done nothing to keep them safe. His sisters had broken themselves in service to the city Aurelius was duty-bound to protect, all while he'd been chasing fantasies of a glorious Inda victory.

"Eaflied wasn't her mother, Aurel, I told you. And yes, I suppose she must have, because that's what Eaflied told me." Hima leaned forward and the settee—or perhaps her splint—creaked. "I thought it might make it easier for you to know."

That Bree had pretended to be a princess, Aurelius had no trouble believing, but that she had feigned her interest from the start was more difficult to understand.

As soon as Aurelius had arrived, as soon as he'd passed through the gates amidst the rubble and the builders who swarmed about it, his first thought had been of Bree and their son. Were they safe? Were they alive? In so many ways, it was better that Bree had fled than that she'd died. It should warm him to know her heart was still beating when the hearts of so many others had stilled.