Chapter 37

Wil was delirious with pain, his world darkened with every beat of his heart. To his eyes, the Warrior before him spoke, but he couldn’t hear the words, they were lost on ears to deaf from the pain to comprehend them.

He felt cold, his fingers were stiff and unresponsive. He had lost his sword, he needed it but couldn’t recall where he had left it. He coughed and another blood bubble burst from his lips, sending a jolt of pain through his ruined jaw.

He was dying, broken beyond repair, the little mana he had left seeped from his body, joining his blood that coated the ground.

But through the pain, he could hear a voice calling him, cutting through the agony.

“You’re a fool, Wil!”

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A Week Ago

“I came here looking for advice, and you call me a fool?” Wil asked, seated before Annabelle Quentin’s desk, his feet propped up on top of the wood. She eyed his boots with disgust, before ignoring them.

“Of course you are. You should settle down, Serena deserves a home, Wil. Running around the Wilds for years didn’t do her any favors.” Quentin responded, sitting on the desk, and crossing her legs primly. Wil quirked an eyebrow at her words.

“I provided her with everything she needed. We had a house, books, I taught her everything that I know, and Amora helped as well.” Wil replied.

“She needs friends! A normal life! You and your Mage Mentor isn’t enough for a young girl. You should seriously consider Mara’s offer to live with her in Aachen. I think it would be best for Serena.” Quentin said.

“I know that, Annabelle. But I don’t want to put Mara at risk by involving her with me. You know yourself that trouble follows me.” Wil answered, looking at his friend.

“And Mara said it herself, she can handle trouble. You and Serena need someone in your life, Wil. It’s not the pair of you against the world.” Quentin countered.

“What about us?” Wil asked, withdrawing his boots, and leaning forward in his chair.

“What about us?” Quentin asked, her eyebrows raised at the question.

“Don’t play the fool, Annabelle. You know as well as I do that there is something between us. Would you truly be happy if I settled down with Mara?” Wil questioned.

“I…” Quentin stammered, at a loss for words at the direct questioning.

Her feelings for Wil had changed over the years the had been apart. When they had first met, she looked at him like a brother, annoying but kind hearted. Things shifted over time, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Her ill-fated attempt at love with Martin had made her look at her relationship with Wil differently.

She had been more forward than she ever had before on the ship ride back to Illyria, kissing him on the cheek when they reunited. Until finally, their relationship blossomed into something more intimate.

She still blushed at the thought of their evenings together, their bodies entwinned, a mess of sheets tangled around them. But it had been her who pulled away once they returned, making it clear that their intimacy was simple fun, not strings bound them together.

She had thought they had been of a like mind, but maybe there was more…

“You’re right. But my business has always come first in my life before everything else. And you’re also correct in that trouble does seem to follow you. I’m not…strong, like Mara or Astrid. I hate relying on someone to ‘keep me safe’. I’m not a glass figurine on a shelf to be admired. It’s why I refused Martin’s advances over the years, he was much too protective, too demanding.” She said, lifting herself off the desk and walking to the window.

“I’ve never wanted a family, or a husband, Wil. My work is all the spouse I ever wanted. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy your companionship.”

“How businesslike, Annabelle.” Wil said dryly, walking up beside her.

“Gods damn it, Wil. Fine. I’m in love with you. Happy? When I heard Garman was going to Lund to find you, I was over the moon. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Quentin said, turning away and blushing furiously.

“But I understand that I’m not strong enough for you. I’m just a weak Merchant. You probably hate that I squabble over money or-” Wil cut her off by grabbing her arm, spinning her towards him.

“You’re one of the strongest people I know, Annabelle.” He said simply, looking down into her blue eyes. He sighed deeply.

“Why can’t anything ever be simple. Meet a girl, fall in love, get married. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” Wil muttered, letting out a deep breath.

“Nothing’s simple when you’re involved, Wil. Go do what you have to do in Brookmoor, we’ll figure everything out after.” Quentin replied, leaning her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

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Three days ago

“Mara’s dead.” Wil told Annabelle, his monotone voice drained of all emotion.

He had returned from Aachen distraught, the loss of Mara and the kidnapping of Serena was more than he could bear. Markus had gone to the capital to search for clues while Wil oversaw the estate. His brother knew that Wil needed this time to deal with things, to put his thoughts in order before they overwhelmed him.

“I’m so sorry, Wil.” Quentin said, hugging into him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt. Her own emotions were similar to his. Mara was one of her closest friends, someone she had known for years. They had traveled all over the continent together.

“It’s all my fault. I got her involved with us. I should have never returned. I can’t protect anyone.” Wil whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. In his mind, he could see Mara lying dead, her heart missing. The laughing, teasing, beautiful woman who lived life to the fullest, gone forever, because of him.

“Listen to me, Wil. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” Quentin said fiercely, staring up at him. “You did everything you could to keep them safe. Mara wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. You made it clear what the danger was, and she agreed to guard Serena anyway. We all know the risks of being close to you, but it’s our decision. Do you hear me?”

Wil slowly opened his eyes, looking down at the beautiful blond next to him.

“You should leave, Annabelle. Once the portal is finished, you should ask Kathryn to send you to the Capital. It will be safer for you to not be around me.” Wil said, emotionless.

“You’re not sending me away, Wil. I don’t care what happens, we’ll face it together.”

Wil ignored her, leaving the room. Once Serena was rescued, he would take her and leave. Quentin, his brother, all of Illyria would be better off without him around.

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Wil’s breathing slowed, the pain receding as the coldness spread from his limbs to his torso. His world was reduced to single figure, The Armored Warrior, a mocking expression on his face as he knelt beside him.

Wil couldn’t remember why they had been fighting, his memory was hazy. He was too tired to care about the reason, or to respond to what the person beside him was saying. He felt as if he was sinking, like when he was a child, swimming in the lake with his mother.

He would float on his back, letting the water carry him. He used to enjoy it, until his sister ruined it somehow. He couldn’t remember what she did, those memories were too remote, and the effort to retrieve them was beyond him.

His sister had done…something, and he had felt the water close around him, burying him beneath their depths.

His mind rebelled. He should struggle! Fight to survive…but he had no energy left.

Lying on the ground, mocked by the Armored Warrior and surrounded by the ruins of Aachen. Wilhelm Brookmoor died.