Chapter 16

IN her grip, her husband lay lifeless, but Helena refused to let go of Darius. She lacked the strength and will to rise from the floor, despite feeling Carlotta's hands on her shoulders and hearing the nursemaid's quiet murmurs, urging her not to face this alone. However, Carlotta's pleas fell on deaf ears.

Her heart thundered within her chest, its rhythmic beats resounding in her ears. She tightened her arms around Darius and braced herself, determined to remain there indefinitely if necessary.

If staying in this room, for however long she had left in this world, meant bringing Darius back to life, she would anchor herself to the very floor and never leave. The maid's emotions surged with heartbreak and anger, leaving her on edge. Every nerve in her body quivered intensely as if she still anticipated the emergence of the sea witch from the farthest corner of the room.

She half-expected the witch to either revive Darius only to snatch his life away again or seize his lifeless form, dragging him down into the depths of the ocean's abyss, like the creatures of Ariel's tales—the sirens, the mermaids, those abominations.

Once captivated by the idea of these beings, she now found herself repulsed by the very thought, especially after witnessing one of them directly involved in her husband's murder.

The concept she once found intriguing now evoked nothing but deep aversion within her. Every sound echoing through the outer corridor sent shivers down her spine, filling her with unease and fear.

She was well aware that Eric would likely search for her and eventually order Darius to be separated from her, entombing him within the castle grounds alongside his ancestors.

It was a fate he had anticipated, but one that she couldn't bear, not now and not ever, even if it meant waiting until he was old and time-worn. The mere thought of his separation from her tore at her heart, unwilling to endure losing him a second time. Overwhelmed by this dreadful sensation, a new and blinding emotion consumed her for a moment. Her thoughts were solely occupied by Ariel.

It was because of that wretched mermaid that her detestable aunt had taken Darius's life. Surprisingly, an uncontrollable rage erupted within the depths of her being, igniting a burning fire in the pit of her stomach. She sniffled, her shoulders quivering as she suppressed yet another sob. Gently, her slender fingers combed through his disheveled black hair, which was long overdue for a trim.

It used to be Carlotta who took care of it, Helena thought as an abrupt bitterness seeped into her belly.

A lump formed in her throat, and an intense pressure built up in her chest as she struggled to control her breathing, the air rushing in and out uncontrollably, as if defying her will. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unhindered. Helena tensed as she felt Carlotta's grasp tighten behind her.

"We should bury him, my dear," whispered the Prince's elderly nursemaid, her voice as kind as possible, though Helena detected a wavering note in Lottie's tone.

It was evident that she, too, was barely holding herself together, clinging on by a fragile thread.

Carlotta's words pierced through Helena, causing her to flinch. She couldn't fathom what could belong to her now that Darius was on the brink of being laid to rest beside their family.

The prospect of possessing next to nothing but a fleeting existence weighed heavily upon her.

Her husband was the only true possession she could claim, yet even that was snatched away by Ariel's detestable aunt. The gods seemed relentless in their cruelty.

"Grimsby and I, we loved him just as much, my dear. Eric did too," Carlotta continued, her voice tender as she attempted to coax Helena to rise.

With a wave of her hand, she signaled for a pair of guards who had hesitated near the door to approach.

One of them was Brutus, Darius's captain, who flinched upon meeting Helena's gaze and witnessing the maid's bloodshot and frantic brown eyes. Her body stiffened as the guards took a step forward, but their advance came to an abrupt halt upon hearing the frigidness in her voice. Through clenched teeth, she all but hissed her words, sending a sharp and piercing message to the guards.

"So, Captain, Eric sent both of you in here, didn't he?" Helena replied curtly, her voice trembling yet filled with a bright and sharp intensity. "To take him away from me," she growled, her grip on Darius's lifeless form tightening even further.

"Dear, he deserves a proper burial, and if your husband were here now, he would assure you that this is not the end," Carlotta whispered soothingly, trying to coax Helena into releasing her hold on her husband. Yet Helena's grasp remained resolute and unyielding.

"Yes, it is, Lottie, it's all over," Helena whispered, her voice choked with sorrow, as she reluctantly shifted her attention away from the guards. She twisted her waist slightly while sitting cross-legged on the ground, cradling Darius's body in her arms. "He was all I had left. Without Darius, I have no home," she sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she fought to contain her emotions.

Despite her efforts, her anguish became evident as her features contorted with grief. She sniffled, and within moments, her demeanor transformed into that of a fierce she-wolf.

"There's only one thing you must convey to His Majesty and the mermaid. I don't want Darius buried here, and I don't want their 'apologies.' Eric and Ariel have no understanding of the word 'sorry.' I gave Eric everything, Carlotta—my time, my skills as his maid, my friendship. Darius and I opened our home to the Prince and that...that creature. And this is the gratitude I receive?! What's left for me?" she shouted, her voice cracking and wavering as her sobs intensified. She lowered her head, a loose strand of brown hair escaping her French braid. "Not even my family, Lottie." She sniffed and swallowed hard. "What Eric and Ariel can do for me now is to get out of my sight and stay away. From this moment until the end of my days, I want nothing from either of them. Please, Lottie, deliver that message to him."

"I...yes, dear, I-I-o-of course," Carlotta stammered, taken aback by the sudden shift in the maid's countenance. She remained rooted to her spot on the ground, her husband still cradled in her arms.

Only when Carlotta nodded, her expression filled with sincerity, did Helena show a hint of satisfaction, knowing that Carlotta would deliver her message to the Prince and his beloved mermaid.

"Good, Lottie. Then Eric and I have nothing more to say to one another. Tell your men to leave. I... I need a moment alone, please."

Carlotta stood still, her kind eyes welling up with tears as she observed the poor dear before her.

It pained her deeply to witness Helena in such a state, and she desperately wished she could find stronger words to offer solace.

At that moment, they shared a bond of anguish, their lives forever altered by the cruel hand of fate.

"...the witch, Ariel's aunt... she took his life, my Dari..."

Helena's words escaped her lips, a whispered admission that seemed unfathomable.

Sitting there, she marveled at her ability to find any semblance of speech amidst the overwhelming pain that consumed her, mourning the premature loss of her beloved husband. Her gaze shifted downward, fixating on Darius, cradled tenderly in her arms, his existence extinguished far too soon.

Momentarily bewildered, Carlotta turned her gaze towards Eric, who had silently positioned himself near the doorway, wisely choosing to remain outside the room, concealed within the shadows.

Concern flickered across the Prince's sharp and angular features. Sensing the presence of Eric, Helena clenched her teeth, understanding that his and Ariel's presence would only intensify her suffering.

Her eyes snapped up, piercing through the haze of sorrow, as she fiercely commanded everyone to leave her alone with Darius.

"Go! LEAVE!" Helena's voice reverberated with raw emotion, her words infused with a mixture of grief and anger. Fresh tears cascaded down her pale face, each drop a testament to the agony that consumed her.

The intensity of her outburst startled Carlotta, who stepped back abruptly, her expression mirroring shock at her maid's anguished outcry.

But then, amidst her fractured voice, Helena pleaded once more, her words breaking with a desperate sob.

"...please...please...just go...give me a moment, for the gods' sake!" she shouted, tears continuing to streak down her cheeks as she wept.

Carlotta's short and stout legs wavered beneath her, the weight of anguish pressing down on her like lead in her boots. Slowly, she retreated from the heart-wrenching scene, unable to tear her gaze away from the grieving maid, her tears flowing uncontrollably.

Her mind screamed at her to keep moving back, but her body refused to cooperate. She longed to pull the poor dear away from her deceased husband, to implore Helena to take a moment's rest, assuring the dear woman that they would prepare her husband for burial. Furrowing her brow with concern, Carlotta's stomach churned as she realized she shared in the same pain that consumed her over Darius's death.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow, as she spun on her heels, the fabric of her skirts swirling, and began to follow the Prince's guards outside the hall, to wait until Helena was ready.

Two of them barked harsh orders for her to accompany them, their urgency cutting through the heaviness in the air. Pushing aside thoughts of Carlotta, Helena refocused on her husband, holding him tightly. Helena couldn't help but notice how fragile Darius felt in her arms. Too limp and relaxed.

But it was the chilling coldness clinging to her husband's skin that terrified Helena the most.

Her love's complexion had grown deathly pale from the loss of blood. With her free hand, Helena gently rubbed Darius's wrist, attempting to infuse warmth back into her husband in whatever way she could.

God, but Darius resembled a specter. His pallor was devoid of any color, making him seem like a ghost.

Another sob tore from Helena's lips as a tear traced its way down her cheek.

Tenderly, she brushed aside Darius's bangs off his forehead. Her husband had been her rock, her anchor, Darius was her guiding light in the darkest of tunnels as her illness continued to worsen and take its toll on her, and without him... her life became a cold, desolate shadow.

The world around Helena turned bleak and devoid of color. Helena couldn't fathom how to continue living without witnessing Darius's radiant smile or hearing the melodic sound of his laughter.

The emotions she had suppressed for so long now surged forth uncontrollably, breaking down the dam that held them back. Helena wept without restraint, her entire body convulsing with intense, wrenching sobs that shook her entire being. At that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care about anything else.

Her hand sank deeper into Darius's hair as she gently rocked her husband's lifeless, icy form back and forth. The pain was unbearable. It surpassed any anguish she had ever experienced in her entire life.

It tore at her heart in ways that no arrow could ever pierce.

Losing her husband was a torment that cut her to her very core.

"I... I'm... so... so sorry, Darius," she gasped, her voice trembling as she struggled to form the words she longed for her husband to hear. "Forgive me, my love, b-but I...I do not know if I can go without you, you promised me that you would never go far from me. I've lost every family I've ever had, but you...when you came into my life, you were always there. The only constant. It should have been me to die at the witch's hand instead. I...without you, Dari, I have no home. "

The sheer magnitude of her agony should have rendered her speechless, yet somehow, she found the strength enough in her throat to speak.

Though she knew Darius could no longer hear or respond, she felt compelled to utter these words to her husband, half hoping, praying, even, that he could hear her, somehow.

In a tragically poignant response to Helena's confession that she had no home without him, a surge of life coursed through Darius. He inhaled sharply, a faint moan escaping his barely parted lips as his unconscious body fought to grasp the dwindling breath.

Helena's eyes grew wide and round with shock and disbelief. Her husband was still battling.

Darius was alive.

Sensing the subtle rise and fall of Darius's chest beneath the tattered fabric of his tunic and leathers, and hearing his pained moans, Helena snapped back to reality.

A mixture of overwhelming relief and renewed hope washed over her at that moment, tears of gratitude streaming down her face. It wasn't over yet.

"Oh, praise the gods, I will never insult them or curse them again, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Helena fervently exclaimed, her voice trembling with desperation. "That's it, my love, keep fighting, fight for me!" Her words were a plea, filled with an unwavering determination. "I refuse to accept your death, Darius," she vowed, cradling her love tenderly in her arms as her sobs renewed with even greater force.

Darius shifted slightly in Helena's arms, though even that slight movement sent an explosion of pain through his head as his neck and his temples began to throb. He was startled by the sound of his wife's voice calling out to him. The soft-spoken and mild-mannered tones that once resonated with joy and warmth now carried an overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessness.

His sweet Helena's voice, usually so beautiful and soft, was filled with sadness and desperation.

It was as if everything she held dear had been mercilessly ripped away from her. Why was she in such agony? This level of turmoil and pain seemed unbearable to him.

As his wife's voice rose and fell, Darius's weary mind slowly began to emerge from the fog of exhaustion.

Something was amiss. Darius couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew deep down that all was not well.

Struggling against his physical fatigue, Darius realized that he had to find a way to rouse himself. It was a daunting task, considering his mind and body were still in the process of healing. Every movement felt heavy as if weighed down by an immense exhaustion that beckoned him to surrender to sleep and rest.

Rest sounded incredibly inviting, and he longed for it. His body and soul yearned for a reprieve.

Helena's grief overwhelmed her, causing her body to tremble uncontrollably. Her deep sobs resonated with such anguish that Darius could sense it deep within himself. Despite his desperate attempts, his body remained motionless and unresponsive, dashing any hopes of physical mobility.

Frustration surged through him as he cursed his own helplessness, trying once again to break free from his immobility. Yet his tongue felt heavy and uncooperative, preventing even a single word from escaping his lips to alert his wife to his presence. Another realization dawned upon him, piercing his consciousness—although he couldn't move, he could still feel.

And what he felt, what he witnessed, was Helena's arms tightly embracing him. Her grip was so strong that he worried she might unintentionally harm him, just as the witch had done during their first encounter. The memories flooded back, hitting him with a force so powerful it nearly took his breath away. Yet, his own comfort meant little compared to the immense suffering Helena was enduring.

One of her arms cradled his shoulders, providing support for his upper body and head. Helena's hand was entangled in his hair, woven so intricately that it seemed impossible to remove without his consent.

Occasionally, his wife's fingers would tighten, almost yanking at his hair roots. Yet, Darius disregarded the discomfort. The other arm draped limply across his waist, lacking vitality, except for intermittent moments when the hand clenched his tunic as if its owner was enduring waves of anguish. Anguish.

Without warning, searing white-hot pain coursed through him, scorching his side and his neck.

It felt as if a fire had been ignited beneath his skin. Instantly, his eyes shut tightly, attempting to block out the unbearable agony pulsating through his veins. He did not understand what was happening.

Had the witch had a change of heart and brought him back to life, was that it?

Darius's previously immobile body spasmed as the flames continued their rapid assault. Miraculously, not a single scream escaped his lips. But he was consumed by pain and distress, oblivious to the gentle touch against his cheek. However, what followed pierced through the haze.

"Without you, Dari, I…I have no home…"

Before he could fully open his eyes or respond to his wife's confession, he felt something warm and feather-light brushing against his forehead.

At that moment, his mind went blank, all thoughts wiped away. He struggled to process what had just happened, unsure if it was real or a dream. But then his consciousness came rushing back, and the pain that had consumed him earlier seemed almost negligible now.

Nothing mattered except for his wife's heartbroken words and the warmth that radiated from his forehead where Helena had pressed her lips, spreading through his entire being. With a determined effort, Darius's eyes finally opened, though they remained shaky and his voice hoarse.

"Helena…"

Helena's eyes, previously closed, snapped open at the sound of that all too familiar voice. It couldn't be! Helena recoiled from Darius's motionless body, finding it hard to believe she heard her husband's voice.

Yet, as she examined her husband's pale face, he discovered his half-opened blue eyes and the slight smile that had been there before, now slightly wider.

"D-Darius?" she choked, unable to hide the shock and disbelief in her soft, trembling voice.

This couldn't be real. It had to be her imagination. Darius couldn't be...

Her love had appeared lifeless, cold... it had to be a dream. Slowly, she raised her hand and hesitated before bringing it closer to his cheek, fingers outstretched.

There was a fear that touching him would shatter some spell, plunging her into a nightmarish reality where nothing had changed. It felt as if her mind was collapsing in on itself, conjuring up this illusion.

However, Darius's eyes, still partially closed and clouded by exhaustion or pain, held a glimmer of life. There was a flicker of light remaining in those blue orbs. Darius was alive.

"Helena," he uttered weakly, her husband's voice barely audible. She could sense the effort it took for her husband to say her name, his scratchy and hoarse voice cracking in the process. Her eyes widened in prolonged shock, solidifying what he had barely dared to believe.

Darius was alive! He wasn't... he wasn't...

A choked mix of wonder, relief, and joy escaped her chest, manifesting as a half-sob, half-gasp.

Tears flowed anew down her face. Helena, as if in a dream, brought her raised hand to gently press her palm against Darius's cheek. It was no longer as cold as before; a hint of warmth had returned to her husband's smooth skin. His eyes misted over, starting to close, and a shaky breath escaped him.

Panic surged through Helena at his reaction to her touch, instantly chilling her veins.

"No! Darius!" She carefully adjusted her husband in her arms, pulling his upper body closer to her. Helena cradled Darius against her shoulder and the crook of her arm, providing support while allowing him to sit somewhat upright. She gently shook him, just enough to rouse him without causing unnecessary pain. "Open your eyes! You have to stay awake!" she shouted, careful not to jostle Darius.

Her husband's eyes immediately fluttered open, though they struggled to fully open. Helena realized at that moment that, while Darius hadn't completely faded away, he was still injured from the witch's attack against him. Darius possessed scarce strength, barely able to keep his eyes open, let alone speak.

Casting a glance around the room he found themselves in, he saw no sign of Prince Eric or Ariel, and he was suddenly grateful Eric had whisked the sea witch. The witch's death was a relief and blessing.

Helena couldn't face this alone. Moving Darius any further would likely harm him more than help.

The Prince was the one person she trusted above all to assist Darius. He would know what to do. Anything beyond Helena's capabilities, Eric had proven he could handle.

As Darius's brother, though they were not bound by blood, Eric had been there for him before, and he could be there for him now. With that in mind, Helena looked down at Darius, who leaned against her shoulder, struggling to keep his eyes open, and gently stroked her husband's cheek.

"Darius, my love, can you hear me?" she softly called, her voice a bit stronger this time.

Darius blinked, recognition and awareness returning to his eyes, which sought her own. Blinking again, slower this time, he let out a heavy exhale.

"Yes?" he whispered, his voice still raspy and hoarse, closing his eyes. Helena's heart clenched at the sound, nothing like his beautiful, gentle tones. Nevertheless, she intertwined her hand with his, threading her fingers through his black hair, providing whatever comfort he could.

In response to his unexpected gesture, Darius opened his eyes once more, this time a bit wider.

Her husband's expression softened, and a faint, ghostly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Helena felt a surge of warmth spreading through her chest as if someone had ignited her from within.

As Helena prepared to speak, Darius's eyes suddenly widened, and a deep, pained gasp escaped his lips. His body shuddered, and his eyes glazed over before rolling back, shielded by closed lids.

Her husband gasped again, followed by a small groan. The agony he experienced was evident.

Helena's eyes widened in shock as his cheek pressed against her shoulder, her husband's body tensing from the intense wave of pain coursing through him.

"Darius?!" Helena abandoned any pretense of calm. Raw panic surged through her, overwhelming her senses. The arm supporting her husband's shoulders tightened instinctively, while her other arm swiftly slid under his knees, gripping his lower thigh firmly, grounding herself. "Darius!"

Though he remained conscious, his breathing quickened, and his eyes darted beneath her tightly shut lids, as if trying to ward off the pain. The level of agony he endured surpassed any ability for her to alleviate, and her own panic and emotional turmoil rendered Helena useless.

She didn't know what to do, or how to help her husband. Her eyes widened at the pool of blood at his side, and she realized then that the witch in addition to snapping her love's neck had stabbed him.

Was there anything she could do? Suddenly, a realization struck her, something she had forgotten.

With all her strength and determination, Helena lifted her head, turning it towards the path outside in the hall where the Prince and the others had vanished.

Summoning every ounce of composure she had left, she shouted out with desperation the name of the only person she trusted to help her husband now, her voice piercing through the otherwise dark and desolate halls, "Eric!"