Chapter 80 Elena Heart- POV
The ringing in my ears was slowly replaced by the sound of pouring rain. Water cascaded through the jagged hole in the ceiling, turning the dust of the explosion into a thick, grey slurry.
The smell of ozone and burnt stone was overwhelming, but underneath it all was the iron tang of Xavier’s blood.
"We have to move," I whispered, though my own body felt like it was made of shattered glass.
Xavier didn't move at first. He was staring at the pile of obsidian where James had disappeared. The regal, untouchable King of Drakmor was gone; in his place was a man covered in the soot of his own failures. I reached out, my fingers trembling, and gripped his hand. His skin was ice cold.
"Xavier! If the Palace guards find us, they won't bow. Or worse."
That seemed to snap him back. He looked at me, his blue eyes bloodshot and raw. He understood. The explosion was the signal. To the world above, the King was dead, and the "Assassin Heart" was his murderer. We weren't a sovereign and his subject anymore; we were ghosts.
We didn't go to the palace. We couldn't. Instead, we crawled through a drainage tunnel that emptied into the lower districts, where the city's waste met the rising river. The rain was a blessing, washing away the smell of the Sanctum, but it chilled us to the bone.
I led him to a place I knew from the first timeline, a derelict clockmaker's loft in the slums of the East End.
The owner had died years ago, and the building was slated for demolition, hidden behind stacks of rotting timber.
The room was cramped, the ceiling so low Xavier had to stoop. The only light came from the rhythmic, pale blue flash of the "Rebel" towers in the distance, pulsing like a fever dream through the cracked window.
"Sit," I commanded, my voice barely a thread.
He sank onto a pile of old burlap sacks, his back against the brick wall. I found a rusted basin and caught some of the rainwater leaking from the roof.
My hands were shaking so hard the water sloshed over the sides, but I knelt between his knees anyway.
I began to peel the shredded fabric of his royal tunic away from his shoulder. The silk was sodden with blood. As the fabric pulled away from the wound, he let out a low, ragged hiss of pain.
"I’m sorry," I breathed, my eyes stinging. "I’m so sorry, Xavier. I thought I could stop it. I thought I knew..."
"Elena." He reached out with his good arm, his fingers catching my chin and forcing me to look up. His touch was no longer the demanding grip of a king; it was hesitant, almost fragile. "Look at me."
I looked. The rain-slicked hair, the smudge of soot on his cheekbone, the way his jaw tightened in agony. He was so real it hurt.
"You gave me a chance I shouldn't have had," he whispered. "Without you, I would have died alone in that chamber. At least now... I’m alive to see the world end."
I dipped a scrap of my dress into the cold water and began to dab at the gash on his chest. Every time my fingers brushed his skin, a jolt of electricity, the ghost of that dream, raced through me.
I could still feel the phantom sensation of his lips on mine, the way he had whispered my name in the dark.
I worked in silence for a long time, the only sound was the steady patter of rain on the tin roof. I cleaned the grime from his face, my movements slowing as I lingered on the curve of his jaw.
I was hyper-aware of his breathing, shallow, labored, and so close I could feel it on my forehead.
"You moaned my name," he said suddenly.
I froze. The scrap of cloth stayed pinned against his collarbone. My heart stopped.
"In the garden," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration that made my lungs ache. "When the paralytic took hold... you weren't screaming in terror. You were whispering to me. Like you’ve known the taste of my name for a thousand years."
I couldn't look at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the wound I was cleaning. "The mind plays tricks when it's dying, Xavier."
"Don't lie to me. Not here. Not when we’re the only two people left in the world."
He reached out, his hand covering mine, stopping my movements. He pulled my hand away from his chest and pressed it against his heart. It was beating fast, a frantic, rhythmic thud that matched my own.
"Tell me, Elena," he murmured, leaning closer until his cold nose brushed against mine. "In that dream you remember... did I love you? Or was I just another king who used you?"
The honesty in his voice broke the last of my defenses. I looked up, and the distance between us vanished.
The loft was cold, the city was burning, and we were fugitives, but for this one, slow-burning moment, the only thing that mattered was the heat radiating between our bodies.
"You were everything," I whispered.
Xavier didn't wait for another word. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the dark.
He didn't kiss me, not yet. He just stayed there, holding me in the wreckage of our lives, as the first purple lightning of the 'Rebel' storm began to tear the sky apart outside.
The thunder came three heartbeats later, a deep rumble that vibrated through the floorboards and into my spine.
I could feel the heat of him, the solid presence of his chest inches from my own, but he made no move to close the distance. His breath came in shallow bursts against my lips, warm and uneven, carrying that faint trace of cedar and smoke that had haunted my dreams for weeks.
My fingers curled into the rough fabric of his shirt. I wanted to pull him to me. I wanted to crash against him with everything I had, the way I'd done before, desperate and burning and thoughtless.
But something in the stillness of him held me in place. His forehead pressed harder against mine, and I felt the slight tremor in his jaw, the tension coiled in the muscles of his neck.
Outside, another bolt of violet light split the darkness. The shadows in the room jumped and twisted, casting his face in stark relief for one fractured second.
His eyes were closed, the lids tight, and I could see the faint sheen of sweat along his temple. He looked like a man standing at the edge of something, trying to decide whether to leap or turn away.
"Xavier," I breathed.
His name was barely a sound, but it moved through him like a shock. His hands came up, framing my face with a gentleness that made my chest ache.