Chapter 7 Don't Leave My Side

• The darkness fell over Wilshire like a thick, suffocating blanket, and the Duke was still not back. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the pace of my steps as I paced around the cold, dimly lit interior of the church. The scent of damp stone and burnt candles filled my nose, mingling with the sweet but sour taste of fear that coated my tongue. Every minute that passed felt like a hammer strike against my ribs, a reminder that he was still out there… somewhere.
• I glanced over at Winifred, her expression as tense as my own, though her hands were steady as she lit another candle, hoping perhaps to push back the shadows with the flickering light. The two guards who flanked the door stood still, their faces impassive, yet I could see the apprehension in their eyes. They were not used to being kept in the dark, and neither was I.
• The thought that he might never return clawed its way into my mind. Was I to be a widow so soon after getting married? The idea was absurd and yet… freeing. If Damien were to die, I would be free—free from the title, free from the expectations, free from the man himself. But the guilt followed swiftly. No matter how much I wanted my freedom, I wouldn’t wish death on any man. Not even him.
• I shook off the thought, disgusted with myself, and made a decision. "I can't take this any longer," I announced to Winifred and the guards. "We’re going outside to look for the Duke."
• The words hung in the air like a challenge. Winifred shot me a wary glance, and the guards shifted uncomfortably.
• “Lady Arabelle,” Winifred began cautiously, “it’s dangerous out there. Whatever is happening… it’s not safe.”
• “Dangerous?” I scoffed, though I felt the tremor in my own voice. “And you think it’s safe in here, waiting in silence? I will not stand idly by while my husband—" I hesitated over the word—“while the Duke is out there.”
• “But the Duke will be fine,” one of the guards added, his voice tinged with a confidence I couldn’t share. “He’s capable. He’s with his men.”
• I wanted to scream at them, to make them understand that I couldn’t just wait here, that every second felt like an eternity, and each eternity was filled with a thousand new fears. Instead, I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.
• “We’re going out,” I repeated firmly, leaving no room for argument.
• Winifred’s protest was cut short as I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, stepping out into the night. What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. The street of Wilshire was in ruins. Buildings that had stood for centuries were now crumbling, their stones scattered like broken teeth against the cobblestone streets. Flames flickered in windows, their eerie light casting monstrous shadows. Children were crying, huddled close to their mothers. The air was filled with smoke, screams, and the acrid scent of fear.
• “What in the…” I whispered, horror gripping me. But where was Damien?
• “Damien!” I shouted, my voice raw and desperate. “Damien!”
• There was no response. Just the wailing of a woman clutching a bleeding child, the low groan of a structure about to collapse, and the distant clatter of swords and metal.
• “We should go back to the house,” Winifred urged, gripping my arm. “He’ll meet us there. He always comes back.”
• “No,” I said sharply, shaking her off. I didn’t know where this sudden resolve came from—perhaps from the chaos around us or perhaps from the raw, desperate need to prove to myself that I could do something, anything, in this moment.
• We continued down the street, dodging debris and stepping over fallen beams. The guards moved ahead, clearing a path, their hands ready on their weapons. I could see them scanning the area for any signs of the Duke—or danger. The entire village seemed to be in motion, guards and soldiers running to and fro, shouting orders, while others tended to the injured or fought off things that skulked in the shadows.
• A shiver ran down my spine as we passed a group of soldiers gathered around something on the ground—a creature, its limbs contorted in ways no human limbs should be. Its eyes were open but vacant, its skin an unnatural shade of grey. One of the soldiers drove a sword through its chest, and the thing let out a final, blood-curdling shriek before lying still. I averted my eyes, bile rising in my throat. Whatever these things were, they were not human.
• “Where’s the Duke?” I demanded of one of the guards as he rushed past us.
• He paused, glancing at me with a mixture of recognition and urgency. “He’s with the High Priest, Lady Arabelle. They captured one of the intruders and are investigating him now.”
• I felt a rush of relief so powerful it nearly knocked me off my feet. He was alive. Damien was alive. But relief was quickly replaced by a different emotion—a determination to see him myself.
• “Take me to him,” I ordered.
• The guard hesitated. “My lady, it’s not safe—”
• “I said, take me to him,” I repeated, my voice low and firm. He nodded, relenting, and gestured for me to follow.
• We weaved through the chaos, moving past the injured, the crying, the broken. My heart was pounding, but there was a strange calmness that had settled over me—a sense of purpose that cut through the fear. I had to see him. I had to know what was going on.
• Finally, we reached the church’s inner courtyard, which had been turned into a makeshift command center. The High Priest was there, his robes splattered with mud and blood, speaking in low tones with Damien. My husband—still very much alive. He was leaning over a table, his face lit by the flickering torchlight, his expression hard and unreadable as he listened.
• I stopped at the entrance, suddenly uncertain. The sight of him filled me with a confusing mix of emotions. Relief, yes. But also anger—anger at his calm, his control, his complete and utter assurance that all of this would somehow work out. But there was something else too, something softer, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.
• “Damien,” I called out, my voice breaking slightly.
• He turned at the sound of my voice, and for a brief moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—surprise, maybe even concern—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
• “Arabelle,” he said, his tone a mixture of irritation and something else I couldn’t place. “What are you doing here?”
• “What am I doing here?” I repeated incredulously. “I was worried about you. I thought—” I stopped myself, biting my lip. I wouldn’t admit that I had feared for his life, that I had been terrified he wouldn’t come back. That was too much, too soon.
• He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I told you to stay at the church. It’s dangerous out here.”
• “And I told you I wouldn’t wait around like some useless doll while you’re out here risking your life!” I shot back, louder than I’d intended.
• There was a tense silence between us, and I could feel the eyes of the others on us, their curiosity, their surprise. But I didn’t care. Damien’s jaw tightened, but there was a flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips.
• “Stubborn as always,” he muttered. Then, more seriously, “Arabelle, we’ve captured one of them. We’re trying to find out what they want, why they’ve come.”
• “Who are they?” I asked, stepping closer. I could see now the creature they had chained to the ground, its skin mottled and grey, its eyes glowing with a sickly yellow light. It hissed as I approached, straining against its chains.
• “We don’t know yet,” Damien replied, his voice tense. “But they’re not human, at least not entirely. They’ve been attacking villages like ours, leaving chaos and death in their wake. They seem… driven, like they’re looking for something.”
• I stared at the creature, my heart pounding in my chest. “And do you think they’ve found it here?”
• He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, we need to find out—before more of them come.”
• I nodded, my mind racing. “Then let me help.”
• Damien blinked, clearly surprised. “You want to help?”
• “Yes,” I said firmly. “I’m not just going to sit around and wait for death to find me. If there’s something I can do, tell me.”
• For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression inscrutable.
• Then, slowly, he nodded. “Alright, Arabelle. You want to help? Then stay close. And whatever happens, do not leave my side.”