*Please do not read these shorts unless you've read Tellus, Book Two of the Thanatos Trilogy! There are major spoilers and I don't want to ruin the entire book for anyone*

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Blackberries

A Meryn POV Short

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     I wasn’t surprised that I was a Titan.

     Well, maybe a little.

     Some part of me had always felt a little out of the loop. A little too busy-minded, a little too unsure of what the empty hole I felt in my chest could be. I had always thought companionship could fill that space. A pet, perhaps, or a lover.

     But Ailuros, my pet felie, and Sylvr, my girlfriend, had filled different voids in my life. I hadn’t quite imagined that the hole I had always felt would be so . . . literal.

     Would it hurt, getting my life essence back?

     I wasn’t really sure.

    A sigh slipped from my lips. The forest was loud today: soft drips from the leaves after a morning rain, bright birdsong, the buzz and chitter of insects. So much life teemed and thrived between the hidden crevices and nooks in the forest, and so much of it called out to me.

     Nahara.

     Maybe that was part of my lingering power. I could sense the souls of the world, even if I could do nothing with them. I had always had a preternatural sense of where things were, both animals and plants. Before, I had thought nothing of the fact. Or maybe, with my memories restored, I would know why these pieces never quite seemed to fit together. 

     Regardless, I was a few hours walk out from Thrais and eager to get back to Sylvr and Ailuros. Part of me, a large part that hadn’t quite been smothered by the sounds and feelings of the world around me, couldn’t stop thinking about Natylia, Jyn, Camion, and Andimir. 

     I shouldn’t have let them go off alone.

     Natylia’s magic was so untrained and unpredictable. She was as much a danger to herself and her friends as she was any enemy who crossed them—if she had the confidence to use her powers at all. 

     Andimir and Camion were well trained swordsmen, but I knew what hunted them. If not from my own mind, then from the pages of books I had been consuming since Natylia brought the original threat to my attention. The Titans were once strong, powerful. Human-hating in many cases. Though, quite a few were willing to live alongside humans in peace or by overlooking them altogether; it didn’t really matter.

     But Jyn was the only one I truly trusted to look after them. If he went down . . .

     I refused to entertain that idea.

     Jyn would take care of them.

     I pulled myself through the trees, checking the river to my left. Once I broke through the mountain range, finding the rivers that fed off Starberry Lake was simple enough. The moving water wasn’t exactly quiet, and the life around the river was strong. Still, I was surprised no one had followed me. 

     Then again, why would anyone come for the shopkeeper friend of a queen when they could catch the queen herself?

     My stomach fell. I craned my ear, as though I would catch the sound of someone creeping up behind me. But nothing. No dark, ominous vibe that set goosebumps up my arms. Nothing unnatural.

     A blackberry bush caught my eye. I stooped to fill a pocket, and then snatched another handful yet. If I didn’t bring Sylvr any, she would be merciless when she saw my stained fingers.

     Sylvr . . .

    Oh Sylvr. I resumed my walk into Thrais, pulling my hood up as the trees began to thin out. I still didn’t know what to do about Sylvr. She had known I was a Titan. I understood her dilemma, her job. She was supposed to protect me at all costs, and that meant keeping a secret. I had to presume falling in love wasn’t part of the deal. But here we were and, if I were being honest, after we finished our business with the Titans, I would love nothing more than to call that woman my wife.

     Could I forgive her secrets and lies though? Would I get past them, even if I knew deep in my heart that she had only done what had been expected of her for generations?

     The sun was beginning to set behind the trees when I finally wandered into Thrais. Shops were closing and the few people who were in the street didn’t so much as glance in my direction. I wondered if they knew what they were in for. If they knew what their queen was willing to sacrifice to keep them safe. She would give everything for this kingdom. I was honestly beginning to worry that I would have to stop her before she did.

     Then the door to my shop opened and my thoughts faltered. The fading sunlight cast a glow on Sylvr’s warm brown skin and the honeyed tones of her dark curls as she stepped out of my shop and closed the door. She lifted a brow in my direction and I realized I had stopped to stare, baldly, in the middle of the street.

     Heat rose up my cheeks. I cleared my throat, hurrying closer, noting how her posture straightened and her shoulders rolled back. 

     I kept my voice low as I said, “It’s me, don’t be ridiculous. You think a 5 foot, 4 inch tall person gaping at you in the middle of the street is going to get the drop on you?”

     Sylvr lifted her other brow to match the first, her own tone quiet as she spoke. “I’ve seen what this so-called small person can do with her magic.”

     “By that standard then everyone is a threat.”

     “Never underestimate the power of anonymity.” She gestured at my hood before her hand lifted toward the door, locking it with a hard twist. “People are at their worst when they think no one’s watching.”

     “Yeah, yeah . . .”

     “You should stay with me tonight. In the temple.”

     “Why?”

     “For a multitude of reasons, but the largest and most pressing is that I’m starting to hear rumors that make me think Natylia’s palace has been fully compromised.” Sylvr stilled and her eyes darted along the street behind me. “Where is Natylia?”

     “The rest of the group went north. I decided to come see about my life essence.”

     Sylvr’s cheeks darkened, visible in the quickly dimming light. “You know, then?”

     “I do.”

     “I’m sorry I had to keep it from you. I hated every minute.”

     “You didn’t,” I said levelly. But I studied the wary set of her eyes, the concern in the frowning corners of her lips, and added, “But I know our relationship wasn’t exactly supposed to happen the way it has, so let’s leave it at that. Now what do you know?”

     “I know a lot, and I’ll tell you all of it.” She sniffed gingerly. “After you bathe. Stay with me tonight?”

Her expression was soft, pleading . . . hopeful. And, for a moment, I simply studied her, taking in the many facets of who she was. Who she really was under the mask, under the creature who lived in human form.

     And before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Only if you’ll marry me.”

     Sylvr’s eyes grew wide. “You can’t be serious.”

     “As serious as . . . these blackberries.” I pulled the handfuls from my pocket. 

     A smile on her lips grew, and she met my nervous stare with the steady intensity I had come to expect from her. The quiet, calm, eye to my storm.

     “Well if the terms include blackberries . . .” She stepped closer, brushing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then she leaned toward my ear, almost pushing back my hood as she whispered, “Then yes.”

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Try Anything

An Andimir POV short

 

     I was no stranger to pain.

     Hell, fate had screwed my life left, right, and sideways. 

     Lost my girl, lost my home, lost my family. 

     I had a brief period of upsides. Things turned around; I climbed back onto my feet and then onto a ship. Yet here I was, tucked into a cave on the edge of Silverglass Forest. Praying, to whomever or whatever could possibly help me save this damned Elf.

     The wound across my chest ached. Binding it had been simple enough, though continued blood loss was mildly concerning. I couldn’t stop—I had to get to Hexryn. Maybe farther, if the brutish Numyra had no way to heal him. They could help me, I knew. My wound wasn’t as deep as it could have been. As it should have been when that Titan, Boreas, struck me.

     If not for this Elf, I wouldn’t even be walking. My guilt was unbearable. Jyn had intervened before the Titan could strike again and, in doing so, had launched the four of us into a fight—one that maybe only we had walked away from.

     My stomach clenched and roiled at the thought, bile biting at my throat. Leaving Natylia and Camion behind was—

     If they died, because of us— 

     Because of me . . .

     A loud groan tore through the darkness of the cave I had sheltered us in. I moved. Clamping my hand over Jyn’s mouth, I waited until he regained his senses to withdraw. When he did, his dark eyes filled with shame and he turned away, tugging his blankets back over his shoulder.

     The warm, golden tone of his skin was pallid in the dim glow of the small fire I had dared to light. Sweat glittered across his brow. He wasn’t doing well. I had struggled to get him this far, his body lagging more with each passing minute. Neither of us knew what poison that Vampyr, Valeria, had used on him. This could all be wasted effort. He might bleed to death before we even reached Hexryn. I didn’t know how bad the wound was—he wouldn’t let me look.

     At least I had gotten him this far. Leaving Natylia behind was painful enough for me to think about, but for Jyn? He had spent the last thirteen years of his life serving as her sword and shield. His only job was to protect her from harm. 

     I saw the failure in his eyes. Hell, he had begged to go back. For the first hour, then the second. Begged, pleaded . . . I had forced him to keep moving, dragging him onto the horse while creating as much distance as I could. He had swore at me. Threatened my life, over and over. But he didn’t mean the words. He was expelling his guilt, and I couldn’t blame him. We had to survive. If for nothing else than to get word to Meryn.

     If she survived her own journey, that is.

     My stomach churned. To distract myself, I doused the fire and triple-checked that our boot prints were long gone. I had pulled our bags off the horse and sent her running. When Valeria inevitably pursued, I hoped that the horse tracks would guide her away. The loss of time was a risk but Jyn had agreed so . . .

     Natylia and Camion’s sacrifice had bought us time, but I didn’t know how much. I assumed, based off the bounties we had found in Numyra, that Valeria’s priority was delivering Natylia to Valdis alive. Beyond that, did she have orders? Or would she be free to pursue us?

     Guilt was a thick knot in my throat. Nothing I did could ease it. I tugged at the lacey-leafed brush in front of the cave entrance and tried to blend us into the forest. Maybe it didn’t matter—Valeria could probably smell our blood miles away.

     I didn’t know.

     But as I jerked my blanket up, as my eyes fell to Jyn’s still form, I prayed for the five hundredth time. Because I couldn’t stomach a world where it was acceptable to let such a good man die at the hand of so much evil.

     Because I couldn’t accept that he might die.

 

***

 

     My thumb traced along the cracked surface of my compass. I thought about Shabina a lot, especially in moments like these, when I couldn’t decide on the best course of action. She would know what to do. When I had moved to Dalbran, hard up for coin and itching for adventure, she had taken me under her wing without hesitation. I had never been fully sure why she had gifted me her ships, her fleet. Bina had always had more faith in me than I had in myself . . . much like Nat. 

     “What are we waiting for?” The low growl came from behind me.

     I turned, pausing to study Jyn. His dark eyes were dull, narrowed in my direction. Breathing seemed to be an effort—his chest rose and fell in jagged rhythms.

     “Sunrise,” I said at last. “I don’t have your eyes. I need to be able to see if we’re being followed.”

     “You’re being followed,” Jyn grumbled. “Leave me here. I’ll fend for myself.”

     “Natylia wouldn’t want that.”

     “Natylia isn’t here.”

     “I don’t want that.”

     Jyn paused, then sighed. “You shouldn’t care. I never did.”

     “No. But you had your reasons. And if you don’t believe that I care about you, then at least believe that Natylia does.” I ran my thumb across the cracked compass again. “We shouldn’t be far from Hexryn.”

     “By your compass?” Jyn scoffed.

     “No, by the sun.”

     I saw the reluctance cross Jyn’s eyes. He didn’t like help, even less so when I was the one he needed it from. The walls he had built against me were strong. I didn’t care. 

     “And if the Numyra don’t have a—” Jyn’s words broke off, coughing hard enough that his entire frame shook with the effort. He covered his mouth with his hand, and when he pulled it away blood coated his fingertips.

     “Jyn—” A chill raced across my skin. I moved to his side, reached for the loose bandage around his shoulder.

     He shook me off. “It’s not worth the effort. I can’t survive this. And without Natylia . . .”

     Maybe he was right. I met his eyes and saw the resignation there. The defeat. His skin glistened with sweat. I knew if he tried to stand without help, he would fail. Hell, even his fingers trembled as they slipped across his leathers, wiping his blood away. 

     I had never seen Jyn so unsteady. It was unsettling.

     If he wouldn’t let me help the wound, all I could do was keep him moving forward. I turned again, checking the cave entrance. Sunlight peeked through the trees now, and I loosed a long breath. Another night survived. 

     “We’re going,” I said, moving to grab our packs. Jyn struggled to help, collapsing onto the ground in a string of profanities. 

     When I held out a hand, he slapped it away. “Leave me.”

     My temper rose, the one that only reared its ugly head once in a great while. I gave it some reign as I said, “We’re going. Now. And you’re going to get on your sorry feet, accept my help, and move.”

     “Why don’t you understand that I don’t want to move?” Jyn’s voice was soft. He pulled his legs beneath him, resting his forehead in the dirt. “I know what waits out there, Andimir. Without Natylia, with all the Scepters gone . . .”

     “You don’t know that, Jyn. When you thought she died before you were ready to press on, to do what needed to be done. Why stop now?”

     “Because this time . . . this time I can’t find a reason.”

     The words were a punch to the gut. I blinked. “Jyn. Natylia is still alive. And she’s going to need your help.”

     “How can you know?” His words were broken. Dark spots flecked the dirt, tears he tried to hide. I frowned. 

     “Because I refuse to believe otherwise.” I hesitated before adding, “And because the bounties said they needed her alive.”

     Jyn stilled. “I had forgotten about them.”

     “Yes, well. Wallowing doesn’t suit you.”

     “Shut up.” The words were half-hearted.

     I shrugged. “Either way, I’m getting you to Hexryn even if I have to drag you. I won’t let you die because I care about you. Make it a bit easier on me.”

     Jyn nodded slowly and pushed himself to his feet. He teetered unsteadily but I gripped his arm, forcing him to remain standing. 

     “You really think Natylia’s alive?” he murmured.

     “I really think I refuse to believe otherwise until I see proof that she isn’t.”

     He inhaled slowly, then exhaled, as though trying to clear his thoughts. Then he gestured to the cave mouth. “Let’s go. Before I can’t.”

 

***

 

     Two days passed before he couldn’t. Two days of half-dragging him through forest land. And the morning I set sights on Hexryn, Jyn looked up at me and I knew.

     I knew he couldn’t go on, not unless I carried him.

     “Give these to Nat,” Jyn whispered as I prepped our bags, dumping anything unnecessary. I paused to look at what he offered me and then shook my head when I realized he was trying to pass off his daggers.

     “You’ll need those. I’m getting you to Eythera.”

     “Andimir. Please. If I live, I’ll take them back. But if I don’t. Please. Get them to Natylia. Tell her I love her. I know if I can’t find her you will.”

     “Jyn . . .”

     He shook the daggers gently and I took them from his hands, tucking them into a satchel. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a finger. I waited, watching him tremble, watching droplets of sweat spill off his brow. 

     Then he opened his mouth and, in a shaky voice I didn’t recognize, said, “I regret not listening to Natylia. I regret not giving you a second chance to prove your worth.” He paused and I winced at the amount of effort he struggled through to continue. “I want you to know I care about you . . . and appreciate you. I want you to live through another day, not only for Natylia but also yourself. And if that means leaving me here, please, Andimir. Save yourself. You still have a fighting chance.”

     “I’m not leaving you here,” I quietly replied. 

     He held my gaze a few seconds too long. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the way it made my stomach flip. In the span of a few heartbeats I threw the bags over my shoulder and scooped Jyn up, ignoring his meek protests.

     “Save your energy,” I muttered.

     Surprisingly, he listened. I gritted my teeth under the weight of him, forcing my mind not to linger on the knowledge that he smelled of coconut and hazelnut, or that, when he relented and stopped fighting me, he rested his head against my chest.

     I needed a clear mind. And I certainly didn’t need to look at Jyn like that.

     But Hexryn was no help to him. A pair of Numyrian healers were able to ease the pain of my wounded chest and apply poultices to help prevent the infection, while another pair examined Jyn. He was faint now. He didn’t talk, barely moved, and his skin was slick and pale. I frowned. Jyn had completely lost his fight and the thought broke my heart. 

     “Can you save him?”

     I didn’t appreciate the look on the healer’s face. He shook his head. “I don’t know what the poison is. The best I can do is buy him time.”

     “Do it,” I said. “I’ll pay whatever you need. And where can I find a horse?”

     Within the hour we were galloping south. The healers had cleaned Jyn up, but he still didn’t look well. Each minute that ticked by he grew stiller and stiller as he leaned back against me in the saddle. He didn’t fidget when I checked his pulse over and over, and when the horse’s hooves hit the sand, he slouched in my arms. My heart rate spiked.

     He was not going to die.

     No.

     I wouldn’t accept that.

     I pulled the horse to a stop and scanned the desert, my fingers tight on Jyn’s wrist. A slight tap barely registered, and panic began rising in my chest. I didn’t know where to find Eythera. The Elves moved their city regularly.

     But the moment I had the thought, shadowed forms crested one of the dunes. 

     “Where is he?” Izoryian called.

     Relief poured through me. The Lord of the Elves. If anyone could help Jyn, it would be him. Andáerhyn reached me first, his sword drawn. 

     “Incoming,” he said, passing me swiftly. By the time Izoryian reached me a shriek of anger sounded from behind me. I whirled in the saddle. Valeria. My grip on Jyn tightened.

     “What happened?” Izoryian demanded, reaching up to take Jyn from me.

     “Her.” I jerked my chin toward the Vampyr that Andáerhyn was now facing head on. “She used a poisoned blade on him.”

     Izoryian pulled Jyn from the saddle, lifting him with ease. But when he studied him for a moment his frown deepened. I jumped down, pulling Jyn back into my arms, and reached for his wrist.

     Nothing.

     I checked his throat, his chest, inside his elbow. Not a single heartbeat. I looked up at Izoryian, air stuck in my lungs. Izoryian shook his head.

     “He’s gone,” he said in a small whisper. “I can’t feel him anymore.”

     “No. I refuse to accept that. Save him.”

     “He’s gone.” 

     Andáerhyn grunted and I turned. Valeria was pushing him backward. I gently passed Jyn back to Izoryian.

And all the rage and fury I felt for her, for what she had done to Jyn, exploded from me in a flurry of blades. Andáerhyn and I pushed her back, the tip of my blade slipping up the side of her neck. Crimson burst forth over her pale skin. Dark hair fluttered around her face as she lunged, long nails outstretched. She grazed the side of my arm, a set of scratches breaking my skin, when Izoryian yelled.

     “Andimir!” I spun, in time to see him gripping Jyn in his arms and moving steadily backward. “I have an idea. I don’t . . . I think it’s too late but . . .”

     “Anything, try anything, please.” I glanced around. “We’ll buy you time.”

     “Come with me.”

     A caw cut through the air and I glanced up, barely dodging Valeria’s dagger as she focused her attention on me. Andáerhyn stepped between us, pushing her into the stand and stepping down on her stomach. My raven, Fetian, landed on my arm long enough for me to yank the message free of his leg. 

     I skimmed the words, eyes widening. This was . . . I needed to . . . I looked up at Izoryian. The Elf Lord nodded. 

     “Go then. Hurry. Andáerhyn will make sure you escape. Don’t worry about him.”

     “Get out of here,” the Elven commander yelled in agreement. His attention was locked onto the Vampyr before him, and he swiped for her chest before he added, “Thanks for bringing him back.”

     I nodded, hesitating for a long moment before I jumped into the saddle. My gaze lingered on Jyn, so still in Izoryian’s arms. They were out of sight before I went a dozen feet.

     And I didn’t restrain my tears as I pulled on my horse and rode away.