Sisters Three (Completed)

29. Morna (2/2)

Eyes closed, she waited for his kiss, savoring the feel of his fingers gently tipping her chin upward.

A strange hissing sound developed somewhere behind her, but she ignored it. All her thoughts were on Afton. A split second later, and the hiss whizzed past her arm, followed by a dull thunk. Something warm and wet splattered her face. Her eyebrows drew together, still waiting for the kiss, and then pain blossomed like a fire in her arm.

Eyes flying open, she met Afton's gaze. He looked confused and pale, and then the guards began shouting.

Afton took a step backward and staggered. It felt as if time had slowed as Morna watched his ivory shirt bloom with crimson red around a crossbow bolt in his chest. His hand raised, touching the wooden stick as if uncertain what had happened, and then his foot slid on the rocks beneath him. With a gasp, his weight shifted backward, and he tilted over into thin air. Morna didn't even have time to blink as he fell, disappearing over the edge of the cliff.

She began screaming before she even realized that it was her own voice she heard ripping through the silence of the woods. Without thinking, she scrambled forward, throwing herself at the side of the cliff. She slammed to the ground on her stomach, peering over at the ocean below. She saw only waves and rocks below, no sign of her husband.

"Afton!" Morna screamed again and again, tears soaking her face.

"Lady Morna!" The guards were upon her in an instant, circling to face outward, their swords drawn and eyes scanning the woods in all directions.

"Where did it come from? Is it Revours? An army?" one of them was shouting.

"It's a crossbow bolt. Whoever did this wanted stealth," another said.

The others answered back and forth, their voices loud and harried, yet Morna couldn't hear them. The universe tunneled in on the gray sea below and how it would show her no sign of hope.

"Please no," she choked out.

"Lady Morna, where did it come from?"

Morna ignored the guard and pressed her forehead to the ground. Her memory played back the confusion on his face, the blood spilling from his shirt. The bolt had hit the left side of his chest. Near his heart. So near...

Horror wrenched her stomach, sending her hurtling to her feet.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening. She'd seen it wrong. He hadn't fallen over the cliff. He hadn't been shot. He was around here somewhere. But when the guards turned at her sudden movement, the frozen uncertainty on their faces confirmed what her eyes couldn't.

Afton was...

An overwhelming sense of regret made Morna gasp. Was that it? It was just over? She wasn't even given a chance to fix it, a chance to save him. A few seconds, a puddle of crimson, and he was gone.

A strangled cry stuck deep inside of her, twining around her ribs. A sudden, desperate need to step backward and somehow reverse time enveloped her. Go back only one minute and she could save him or take the bolt herself. One minute backward and her world could stop crumbling.

She stumbled into the solid chest of one of the bodyguards. Another knelt by the cliff's edge.

"Is he dead?" the one behind her asked.

Dead. The word careened through her mind like terrible thunder. A storm of sobs took her.

It came from nowhere, rushing at her like demons released from the Chaos Box itself. The call of water made its vicious return. It shrieked into her with such force that she staggered under its force. A rush of whispers invaded her mind, followed by the hook sinking deep into her guts. The sound of the nearby lake and stream grew in volume, replacing Afton's memory as her sole focus.

The water took over. Her legs walked on their own, taking her toward the edge of the path. She struggled, but the water was stronger.

Through the tears and shuddering breath, she called his name. "Afton, help me!" she gasped, trying to slow her feet but not succeeding. "I can't do it on my own, I need you to fight for me!"

"Lady Morna, what are you doing?" one of the guards asked, his face shot through with disturbed worry. "Where are you going? We need to get somewhere safe."

As her feet carried her into the shallows of the lake, she looked down at the rippling water. In view was her dress, splattered and soaked with Afton's blood. Her hands itched and burned and she held them up, seeing the glint of crimson and the way it caked to every crack and creased. Gagging, she bent down to get it off her skin, and when her fingertips caressed the water, she knew she'd lost the battle. She gave up what was left of her resistance.

There was no point in fighting for a life that was no longer worth living.