Avery
"Lass," Helga whispered. "Avery, your men are dying."
I gently laid Mr. Browning down, wiping my hand over my face, and realized it was shaking. I felt like my world was falling apart. Everything was crashing in on me and I was going to suffocate from the weight. Like I was never going to get better - not until my men were standing next to me. I choked back a cry that threatened to spill out.
What was wrong with me? I never cried. Not uncontrollably, not since my mother had been killed. I'd faced nightmares in my quest for revenge. Yet the thought of these fae dying made tremble.
"Do you care nothing for them, lass?" Helga asked and her words pierced me.
The problem was I cared too much. More than I had a right to. But I was done hiding my feelings.
"Of course, I do. I-I love them." It was too late for regrets. She was right and because of me, both Darrius and Malcolm were the grey-white of death.