Loving the Forbidden Prince

Chapter 227  Darkness and Pain

AYLETH

Everything in her body hurt—bones, muscles, joints. Everything cried out for relief. Everywhere. She couldn't move. Her chest was on fire and her vision began to tunnel as her body screamed for air.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she was vaguely aware of Falek holding her mother, his blade to her throat, and Borshe beside him, binding her mother's hands.

Falek's eyes were wide and red-rimmed, his face a mask of fury.

"Tell me to do it, Ayleth! I'll do it! Tell me to kill her!"

"The power is not in the flesh!" Quwan barked. "Remember your focus!"

Ayleth heard it all, but she couldn't respond. As her body began to twitch and scream at her for relief, she could only look at Etan, slumped over her chest, restricting it even further. But he groaned and seemed unable to move.

The shard of that fucking vial stood out from his back.

Her vision narrowed again until her husband's blood and the weapon that drew it, were all she could see.

Another set of hands—Borsche's she thought—appeared in front of her face, and his deep voice screaming for help as he tried to loosen the shard from Etan's back.

Etan groaned, and Quwan kept insistening that Ayleth had to surrender, to choose the Light…

Then Falek, screaming at her to give the order so he could kill her mother for what she'd done.

She wanted to do it, wanted to meet his eyes and nod, wished she could open her mouth and tell him just to kill her. But then she remembered the reason she'd always trusted Falek…

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Because he cared.

He had never shown the bloodthirsty appeal for violence. He'd never seemed to enjoy harming others. Only shown satisfaction in creating safety.

His heart… he was a good man. And knowing his goodness… she'd recognized it in Etan the moment they met—that strength used for the protection of others, rather than for personal gain.

Borsche, too, she'd come to see over time.

These three men who she loved, who loved her and had protected and helped her… they were all different, and they all loved this Father of Lights.

His influence was the difference, she realized. The difference between them and the other strong men she knew who always made her feel slightly afraid.

The others protected, but were arrogant or selfish with it. But these men gave themselves. Choose for others. Choose for her good.

Ayleth wanted to be that kind of person. She didn't want to end up like her mother, bitter and hurting others. Threatening her own children.

She wanted to win for peace.

A tiny gasp of air made it in, but then Ayleth coughed and bright red spattered on Etan's side and Quwan's sleeve.

The men were all screaming or frantic. For her. She wished she could ask them.

She could feel herself fading. She didn't know this Father of Lights. How did one give themselves to a God they didn't even know?

Suddenly, the bond hummed, throbbing, thrumming, making her heart glow.

She could feel the light in it, feel the love and the peace and… that was it. What Etan had said.

He brought me to you.

That was the source of their bond? That was this beautiful comfort and intimacy?

That was the love they all claimed? The love of this Father?

I want that, she thought. I always want that. More of that.

Ayleth closed her eyes and Falek bellowed.

Yes, she said in her mind as her body coughed again. Yes. I will give myself to that.

The bond exploded with light, with heat, with flames—as if fire roared through her body.

Ayleth threw back her head and screamed

"Ayleth! Please!"

Her chest spasmed and her she shuddered, but was ablet to bring one hand to Etan's hair and hold him close. Because that was how he loved, and now she understood.

"Be merciful, Falek," she croaked, then arched against the pain of that fire, and everything went black.

*****

ETAN

His body was weak, he couldn't move, but he could hear. And when Ayleth screamed, is heart broke.

He tried with everything in him to reach for her, to clasp the hand she brought to his head, to plead with her to give over, to stay with him, please! The bond came alive—he could feel all of it, her love, her fear, her waning strength. But then that awful fire…

Ayleth shuddered and her fingers tightened in his hair.

"Falek, be merciful," she croaked.

She was speaking! His heart rose and he tried to push up, off of her, to turn and see her face, but then she slumped and under his ear, her heart went silent.

"NO!"

Falek bellowed, lifted the blade as if he would plunge it into the Bitch Queen's chest, but instead he buried it in the ground next to her. With a roar of rage, he dropped her to the ground, flipped her over and began to bind her hands.

"How do we stop her using her magic?" he snarled.

Quwan was trying to help Borsche move Etan from Ayleth, but he was clinging, he couldn't let her go. She needed to breathe! She needed to breathe!

"The Father's power will restrict her. That's all we can trust," Quwan said grimly, then turned to the witch. "You will not use the darkness against us. You will never use it again."

His voice echoed with that strange authority, and suddenly Etan could suck in a breath, could move, though feebly.

Borsche helped him push up, so his weight was off Ayleth. "Don't move, the glass is still in your back.

"How," Etan rasped, his eyes on Quwan, "How did you stop her… I can breathe again…"

Quwan turned to him, his face serious. "The dark power isn't hers any more than the Father's power is ours. The gods give their power as they choose. But the Father gives his power to us. I command her to cease in the darkness because she's nothing more than a tool in its hands. The Father chooses whether she must obey the order."

The Queen screamed curses, hexing all of them to death, but Etan was pulling back, one arm pinned to his chest coughing and groaning in pain as he cried to Ayleth.

"Love… please! Please!" he sobbed. Borsche cursed and a startling pain crackled through his back, but the glass shard clinked to the ground and he ignored the pain.

Ayleth's chest wasn't moving. Her face was pale and she didn't respond.

"Please!"

Heedless of Borsche strapping the wound at his back, Etan reached for her, pulled her into his chest, her head lolling on his shoulder.

"Please, Father, please! Bring her back! Bring her to us! Please!" he sobbed.

He was about to scream again, when Ayleth's chest expanded and she sucked in a long, wheezing breath.

Etan, frantic, pulled back far enough to see her face, to push her hair from her face.

"You're here? You're still here, Ayleth?" he pleaded like a child.

Her eyes fluttered, then she smiled at him, lifting a limp hand to his face. "I'm here," she sighed and her eyes closed again, but she was smiling. "I'm just really, really tired."

Etan sobbed in relief and pulled her into his chest, thanking the Father for a miracle.