The King's Cursed Bride

A Funeral

Just when she thought she was done crying, tears would well in her eyes once more. She was falling apart, and there was no Elon to hold her together.

She gritted her teeth as she suppressed her sobs until her whole body shook.

No.

This could not be the end.

She wouldn't allow it.

There had to be something she could do. Perhaps if she brought water to him, he would still heal. He'd healed her like that. Why not himself?

Carissa grabbed a flask from a pack and staggered upright. The world was surrounded in a haze, the colors seeming even dimmer than when she'd first come to Esmeray.

Finding the stream took longer than it should have. Her thoughts kept wondering like, snaking around her mind in nonsensical loops, and her feet had a tendency to do the same. Once she'd found the stream, she filled the flask and ran back.

She knelt next to Elon and set a hand on his shoulder, only to find it unnaturally stiff. Her breath caught was he tensing beneath her touch? Was that why?

"Elon? Elon?" It took her a moment to recall that when farm animals had died, they often stiffened soon after death. It seemed Elon's body had done the same.

Her heart came crashing down, the shards embedding themselves in her chest. Though she seamed her lips tightly and blinked the tears away, another sobbing fit overtook her.

She pressed her forehead to her knees and rocked herself. "I am so, so sorry, Elon. So sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn't—If I could've just—" A sob snapped off the last of her sentenced until she swallowed it back.

No. She had to be strong. Elon would come back, of course. He always came back for her. He'd said he wouldn't leave her. She had to trust in him now, even though she hadn't before. She poured water over his face. Though he didn't miraculously come back to life, at least it cleaned him.

She wiped her nose across her sleeve. Even his body was starting to smell. Something twisted inside of her. This was no longer Elon, just an empty husk, hollowed of the man she'd loved. The man she still loved.

The proper way to care for a body was to burn or bury it. But if she did that, would Elon still return for her? She couldn't just let his body decay and rot and front of her. Or worse, let Yare wolves eat the corpse.

If his body was deteriorating, perhaps he'd get a new body. Elon had foresight, after all. He would have a plan for this.

Buried. Yes, he should buried, not burned. That was she could have a location, a place where she felt like she could still return to him.

She began digging, until her nails were ripping and her fingertips bleeding. The nerve endings in her hand were set afire every time she raked her fingers through the dirt. Eventually, she resorted to using one of their daggers to loosen the dirt and her hands to shovel it away. It would dull the dagger, but if she didn't use it, there was no way she'd get Elon's corpse buried before nightfall.

Her fingers grew warm, and she paused. Her wedding ring was growing hotter. What did that mean? Was she doing something wrong?

A wet snarl sounded behind her, and Carissa turned to face three Yare wolves, saliva dripping from their fangs. Something inside her flared to life. In a strange way, she wanted to fight the Yare wolves, to find an outlet for the grief ravaging her heart.

She held up the dirt-covered dagger as the first one lunged. Her blade sank past its fur into its heart. Easy.

The second leapt and clamped onto her forearm. Carissa yelled in pain and switched her dagger to the other hand before stabbing it between its eyes. Blood ran down her fingers.

The third wolf had disappeared.

Carissa whipped around just in time to see his dart body dart toward Elon's.

"No!" It didn't matter that he was dead, that the man who'd loved her passionately had been reduced to a corpse. She wasn't going to let him be torn apart by a wolf.

She ran and shoved the wolf off of Elon's chest. A snarl. Pain flashing across her right cheek. Then her dagger sank hilt-deep into its chest. Carissa yanked it out, grimacing at her hand. The black fur of the Yare wolves clung greedily to the blood coating her skin.

She considered going to the stream before rejecting the idea. What if more wolves came and ate Elon's body. Carissa swiped her hands across her pants and returned to Elon's side. Aside from the stab wounds in his chest, he appeared unharmed.

Bitter laughter soured her mouth at the irony. Aside from the stab wounds. Her stab wounds. That had led to his death.

She returned to digging with a ferocity that made sweat drip along the curve of her spine. Her arms were trembling—she hadn't eaten since before the attack—but she kept digging.

When the sky started to dim, the hole was waist-deep. But that wasn't enough. Yare wolves could dig his body back up. She could roll rocks over him like they'd done for Kybelle, but in a strange way, she feared hurting his body. She couldn't bear the thought of rolling rocks over him and hearing the smack of it thudding into flesh. Or worse, the crack of breaking bones.

She began a small fire and kept digging. Her fingers and arms ached so fiercely that she found herself resting more often than not. Occasionally, she caught a flash of Yare wolf eyes in the forest. But they kept their distance.

The sky was lightening once more when she judged the hole to be deep enough. Carissa hauled herself out of the hole and laid on the ground panting, looking up at the black-gray sky, the smell of death sharp and bitter in her nostrils.

It was time for her husband's funeral.

***

Author's Note: No sneak peek this time! I'm moving into my dorm, and I'm afraid it's proving to be quite time-consuming.