The King's Cursed Bride

Letting Go

Carissa shoveled the last handful of dirt on top of Elon, her tears wetting the soil. Her fingers were growing numb, as if they'd exceeded the limit of pain they could feel. It felt like her heart was doing the same.

She rose to her feet, swaying slightly. Her husband was buried several feet beneath her. Dead. Gone.

No, not dead. He'd said something about Second Life, hadn't he? He wasn't supposed to leave her yet.

Or perhaps she was supposed to go to him, meet him in Second Life. Elon had always referred to Second Life as somewhere one went after death. Which meant all she had to do was die.

She unsheathed the dagger at her waist, still smeared in the wolves' blood. She could just plunge it into her chest, fall dead right above her husband. She pressed the dagger's sharp tip to her chest, her hands trembling. Just a quick shove and it would all be over. No more pain.

She closed her eyes, her grip tightening on the dagger. It pricked her chest, and a stream of blood ran down her skin. Elon couldn't have meant for her to live much longer after himself anyway. Given that she couldn't heal without him, it was only a matter of time before she died. Why not expedite the process?

But Elon had given his life to save hers. What if it was wrong to throw away the gift Elon had sacrificed so much to give her?

She slowly lowered the dagger. Elon had saved her because he loved her and he had a purpose for her. But she'd always imagined that purpose would be fulfilled with him at her side.

Her wedding band grew warm on her fingers, a comforting warmth that chased the chills away. She splayed her fingers and peered down at it. It only heated when danger was nearby.

She held up her dagger, surveying the woods. Minutes creaked past. She eventually lowered her dagger, before sitting on Elon's gave once more. Though the sky was bright—as bright as it could be in Esmeray—exhaustion tugged at her bones, leeching the life from her.

She forced her eyes to remain open. No danger came. Perhaps Elon's death had broken the ring. But that didn't seem right. Elon had placed particular emphasis on her keeping the ring, no matter what happened. So what was its significance?

She laid down on her back, holding the ring up so it caught the light. Perhaps it was the key to defeating the Reaper King. Yes, that must be it. Elon wanted her to defeat the Reaper King. That was where they'd been going.

Would she get to join him after that? Or would she live out the rest of her life in grief and anguish, slowly withering away? But so long as she could see Elon at the end of it, she could bear it. Even if the loneliness made her feel hollow where once she'd felt whole.

She clasped the ring and brought her fist to her chest. Why make a ring such as hers significant? She was the weak link in their marriage, the one who hesitated to love and trust. But perhaps the ring didn't represent her vows; perhaps it represented his. After all, he'd been the one to slip it on her finger, right after speaking his vows.

The thought made her smile. If that was so, then this ring was the last piece she had of Elon. And she would sooner die than let it go.

***

The sky was a medium gray—the shade that she'd come to identify as either dusk or dawn. She sat up with a sigh. She couldn't wait to be rid of this dark, cloud-smothered, colorless land. She stared off at the horizon, until the brightness of the sky made her eyes water.

She imagined a gloriously vibrant orange, the color of ripe fruit and candy. A soothing lavender splashed as a backdrop behind the clouds. Pinks that stole her breath, so vivid that she knew she'd never be able to capture its beauty, to remember quite how lovely it appeared until she saw that color again.

Unless she didn't see it again. Her thoughts stuttered, then slowed. If she were to die in Esmeray and meet Elon sooner, she had already seen her last sunset. She tried to remember the last sunset she had seen. But she couldn't remember. Had it been in the village of Hasita? The palace? Or had she been so wrapped up in her own troubles that she'd never taken the time to look? And now she would possibly never have that opportunity again.

It felt like someone had taken an axe to her heart, making it splinter beneath the pressure. Her last sunset. She didn't know why the thought would pain her so. She'd always thought that she would slow down and admire the world around her when she was older, when death was imminent. But that was the thing about death: it was the one certainty that no one ever expected.

Carissa shook her head. The darkness must be getting to her, tempting her grief toward depression and melancholy. She needed to defeat the Reaper King and find Elon... somehow.

She yawned, only to bite back a cry as the movement stretched her cheek. The wounds from her battle with the wolves pained her just as much now as they had last night. Did Elon expect her to kill the Reaper King in this condition?

Carissa rose and examined the gash in her forearm. Perhaps she only needed one arm to defeat the Reaper King. She slipped the pack onto her shoulders. She would go to the creek and travel alongside it. It would hit a town and she would find her way to the capital from there.

But for some reason she couldn't convince her feet to move. Each step she took would be a step farther from Elon. No, not Elon. Just Elon's body. He wasn't there anymore.

She took a deep breath and took one step, then another. Each one hurt, as if she were physically tearing herself into two. Elon wasn't there. But leaving him still felt wrong.

She cast one last glance at Elon's grave, tears filling her eyes. And then she walked away.

***

Author's Note: Check out my profile bio for a sneak peek. :)