They’d felt their Prince’s injury the second it had happened. “I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.” Tony swayed before collapsing to his knees on the hard cement. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the pool of dark-red liquid that was soaking the ground where their Prince had last stood. “I knew better.” His hands came away smeared with the stuff, the stuff which he was not thinking of as blood very deliberately, and brought it to his nose. The scent hit his nostrils and a scream ripped itself from his throat. He had failed. They all had failed. The ache in his chest where the Ravyns’ bond had once been filled them all with a shared emptiness. They clung to one another, weeping wildly, uncaring of any manner of appearance. Tony backed himself into a wall and slid to his knees. He didn’t know what to do. He always knew what to do. He realized vaguely that he was babbling his thoughts aloud but couldn’t seem to get a grip long enough to stop. Everything was a haze of sensation.
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