From the moment she died, Nehemia had been welcomed with open arms by the slaughtered rebels of Ellywe. She had barely had a chance to check on the living: both the rebels and Celaena. But there had been the rare moment. She had seen Celaena attack Chaol. She had seen the start of the rebel uprising in Calaculla. She had seen Celaena sing the ancient Fae mourning song. And of course, the moment where Celaena had opened the Portal. Nehemia still had nightmares of that awful Archer changing the Portal, and that even more gruesome creature slithering through.
Nehemia regretted the fact that her death had sent her closest friend and Chaol apart. Although Celaena was correct in believing that the princess and the assassin should have been warned, the rift should never have taken place. It was one of the few things Nehemia has ever felt guilty about, although it wasn't exactly her fault.
But now, Nehemia watched as Celaena walked towards her grave.
It was the murmurs of the assassins fate among the rebels that had sent Nehemia running to the edge of the Otherworld. Nehemia knew the truth; she was one of the few that did. It was dangerous sending the assassin to Wendlyn, where she'd have the power to overrule the King of Ardarlan, in the blink of an eye. And it was because of that that Nehemia couldn't help but smile. She also couldn't help but wonder about the possibilities of the future: would Celaena force the King and Heir of Wendlyn into hiding? Surely she had to. As much as she hated Chaol, she loved him too. She would never let him die at the hand of the King. And what would happen when she was reunited with her aunt? Would she hand her forces to Celaena in the blink of an eye, or would the lost Heir of Terrasen have to convince her fae aunt? Really, the possibilities were endless.
But that was the future, and this was the present.
Celaena knelt down. "I want you to know that you were right. You were right. I am a coward. And I have been running for so long that I've forgotten what it is to stand and fight." Nehemia regretted those words, and hearing Celaena say them sent a pang of pain worse than death through her body, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. However, it also sent hope. "But I promise. I promise that I will stop him. I promise that I will never forgive, never forget what they did to you. I promise that I will free Eyllwe. I promise that I will see your father's crown restored to his head." Nehemia grinned. It had worked. Sacrificing herself as a martyr had worked. Celaena was fighting back. The captured rebels were fighting back. Her death hadn't been for nothing. Her death had been for everything. "I promise. On my name, on my life, even if it takes until my last breath, I promise I will see Eyllwe freed." Nehemia watched the scarlet blood soak into the dirt, and a shiver ran through her spine.
"Never forgive, never forget." She whispered, as her friend rose. From then on, Nehemia swore that she would watch over her friend, watch over her and protect her to the best of her abilities, as she fought the battle that Nehemia couldn't.
It was time for the real war to begin.
