by Rye Brewer
“She wasn’t there,” Gregor choked out. “But there were signs of a struggle. Blood. Quite a lot of it.”
“No. This isn’t true.” If I kept saying it over and over, I might believe it. Not my mother. Not her.
“I’m sorry, but it is,” Felicity whispered.
“I can’t lose her again. I can’t, I can’t.”
“I know what you’re feeling.” Gregor’s hands closed over mine.
I laced my fingers with his before opening my eyes. The devastation written all over his face nearly tore my heart to shreds. No matter what I was going through, he was feeling it a hundred times over. The image of his happy face, the joy radiating from it when he was with her. A man so clearly, so completely in love. And she was gone. Just like that. Blood all over her room.
“Father…”
“I know,” he nodded, sorrow etched into every line around his eyes, his frowning mouth.
“What about Sara?” I looked at Stark, then back at Gregor. “Does she know?”
“No,” my father admitted.
“I don’t think she should hear about this right now,” Stark urged, standing close to the two of us and lowering his voice to a whisper. “It will be difficult enough for her to control her powers while we’re fighting without having this hanging over her. She’s still too volatile, too untested.”
“I agree. If we’re about to do what we’re about to do, she shouldn’t hear about this yet.” My heart was so heavy, I wasn’t even sure I would be able to fight the way they needed me to.
But then I looked at Gregor again, at the pain in his eyes, and I remembered everything that had been done to us. The way my parents couldn’t be together. The way my mother had almost died—after Sara’s father definitely had. The way Sara had broken the law just to keep our heads above water, and the things Marcus had made me do to keep her from suffering with no blood.
All the loss, all the pain. The pain Jonah would go through when he found out I was in prison for some endless sentence.
All of a sudden, I was ready for a fight. I wanted one. I could hardly wait to get started.
20
Anissa
I didn’t have to wait long before two guards approached my cell.
My visitors hurried away, back toward the entry hall, and I stepped back to allow the door to swing open.
We waited for another two guards to lead Scott from his cell. He looked considerably more sedate than he had before.
It occurred to me that no one had warned him of what was about to happen. Well, he’d find out.
When we reached the entry hall, there was another situation brewing.
This time, it had to do with Gregor and Felicity being there. The Senate had entered, presumably to deliver our sentences, and the six of them glared at the new intruders.
“What do you think you’re doing here, Gregor?” Dracan asked.
That surprised me. Just how much did they know? I was willing to bet the two of them weren’t on friendly terms.
“I came here to find my daughter—and now I see what’s happened at your hand.” He glared at all six of them in turn, while Felicity stood her ground behind him. “What do you think you’re doing, imprisoning fae royalty? The daughter of the king.”
“You’re no king here, Gregor,” Lara sneered. “You don’t even have power here. Perhaps you need to be reminded of what power looks like.”
“Perhaps you do,” Elewyn snarled.
She’d stepped up beside Gregor without any of the Senate noticing—and when she raised her arms, palms outstretched, it was Dracan she focused her power on.
He screamed in surprise, fury and agonizing pain as his body seemed to burst into flames from the inside out.
I gaped as fire shot from his eyes, from his mouth and ears and nose.
The guards fell back, stunned, ready to run. I hated to do it to them, since they were only performing their jobs, but I took the knife out of one of their belts and sank it into its owner’s back, then slit the throat of the other in one smooth turn.
I glanced up as they fell at my feet to find Scott staring at what was happening around us.
Dracan’s screams had turned to garbled groans within a matter of seconds.
Ferda and Rorru ran for cover behind two stone columns which ran along the walls of the circular room, while Nemi ran for the stairs and Torvan attempted to take on Stark, who threw Sara behind him before blasting the white-haired witch with a wall of ice which caused Torvan’s spell to bounce back on himself. He collapsed instantly, dead and staring.
Samara caught sight of Nemi as she tried to make her escape, and bolts of orange light flew from her fingertips as she cast a spell aimed at the other witch.
Nemi darted to the side just in time, and the energy hit the wall beside her—but caused some of the stone to crumble, taking her with it and throwing her over the side of the staircase and to the floor. She was only stunned.
Fane descended on her before she had the chance to get up, stabbing her with a blade he pulled from his boot. Her back arched as she screamed in pain, then fell silent.
“Anissa! Look out!”
I leaped behind one of the columns just in time to avoid being hit with one of Lara’s firebolts, which absorbed into the stone.
The column was hot to the touch, but at least the fire hadn’t hit me.
It was Elewyn who had warned me, and I peered out from behind the column in time to see her combat Lara’s fire with fire of her own. She ducked a bolt before sending a wave of flame to the witch’s robes, which instantly caught fire and enveloped her.
I looked away in disgust as Lara’s agonized screams filled my ears, to where Scott had finally woken up and attacked his guards. They were writhing in pain from the wounds he’d delivered to their throats, their blood jetting out in all directions.
Gregor took on a pair of guards, along with Felicity’s help, as they ran in and tried to attack us.
They couldn’t have been witches, since it was easy to take them down.
I looked for Sara, desperate to know whether she was all right. I saw her fighting with Ferda, throwing energy back and forth, ducking and darting to avoid one another.
Fane and Stark were rushing Rorru as a team, Stark icing him while Fane slashed with his claws.
“Samara, look out!” I was the only one who wasn’t busy fighting at the moment, and I looked up just in time to see Elewyn fire a bolt of lightning straight into Samara’s chest.
I froze momentarily, sure I must have misunderstood. They were friends. They had known each other forever. They both loved Elazar.
But I had just watched Elewyn try to kill her brother’s consort.
And so had Fane.
“No!” He took his attention from Rorru and ran for Samara, throwing himself in front of her as he glared at Elewyn.
Elewyn snarled, enraged. And fired another bolt at Fane.
I opened my mouth to warn him, but it was too late. He took the full brunt of her energy—which seemed brighter and stronger than it had when she’d hit Samara, like she was angry at him for trying to stop her—and spun in a half-circle, throwing his arms around Samara just before the two of them hit the floor.
“Fane!” I shrieked, but another bolt of flame hit my column, and I shrank back.
Sara threw out a retaliatory bolt of lightning at Ferda, who had been the one to nearly hit me, and the witch’s eyes rolled back in her head as she twitched and foamed at the mouth. When she fell to the floor, it was over.
The smell of blood and burned flesh hung heavy in the air, threatening to choke me. I crawled out from behind the column, to where Gregor and Felicity had huddled together. “You’re all right?” I asked, hugging them both.
“We’re fine,” my father assured me, searching my face to be sure I was well, too.
I looked around—Sara was in tears, leaning against Stark as he helped her to her feet.
Scott was getting up, too, brushing himself off befo
re stepping over Dracan’s body to go to his father.
Fane didn’t move. He was sprawled across Samara, as he had been since he threw himself on top of her.
She didn’t move, either.
Scott crouched by Fane’s side then turned him onto his back.
Sara screamed.
I would have, too, if I could’ve found my breath. But the sight of the gaping wound in Fane’s chest robbed me of that. I ran to them, falling to my knees.
“Can’t… breathe…” Fane looked up at me, eyes pleading. “Can’t…”
“Save your strength,” I urged him, though I didn’t know what he’d save it for.
He was going to die. It was over. Nobody suffered a wound like that and survived.
“No!” Scott wailed, holding his head in his bloodstained hands. “No, no, not you!”
“It’s... all.. right,” Fane groaned.
But there was no calming Scott.
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to do worse than that. This was his fault.
I glanced over at Samara, splayed out on her back with her beautiful, shining hair fanning out around her head. Blood soaked her robes, and I didn’t know if it was hers or Fane’s. Likely both. She was barely breathing—when she did, blood gurgled in her chest.
I turned my attention back to Fane as the rest of our group gathered around us. I saw Jonah’s face in Fane’s—they had never looked more alike than they did at that moment. How was I supposed to tell him his father was dead?
“I have to get my brother,” Elewyn announced.
The triumph in her voice was obvious, even over the sound of blood racing in my ears as my heart raced out of control. Fane was going to die if we didn’t do something, and fast.
“Ah...” Scott’s tears dripped onto the back of Fane’s hand as he held it. “This is all my fault…”
“Do something about it, then.” Felicity pushed her way in, all business.
I had never seen her so sharp and feisty—she was full of adrenaline after the fight, as I was. She tore a large piece of her robe away before reaching into the inside pockets on the other side and pulling out a vial seemingly at random.
“What are you doing?” Scott asked, trying to look over her shoulder.
She elbowed him back without looking, tossing her long braid behind her before getting started.
“I’m trying to save his life. What does it look like?”
I stroked Fane’s forehead as Felicity poured a clear liquid over the wound, then wadded up the torn fabric and pressed it against his chest with all the force in her body. She shook from the strain.
“Let me do that,” Scott offered. “I’m stronger than you.”
“Don’t crush his chest,” she warned before moving aside.
Fane grimaced in agony when Scott pressed on the wound, presumably to stop the bleeding or at least slow it, but he shook his head with a tight smile when Scott looked as though he would stop.
“Don’t…” Fane grunted. “Go on.”
So Scott went on, still silently crying.
My eyes met Felicity’s, and she shook her head.
It wasn’t going to work. He would die here in this terrible place, surrounded by even more death. The bodies of the dead Senate members were sprawled out where they’d fallen.
I held his hand tighter, as tight as I could. Gregor’s hand rested on my shoulder.
How had it all fallen apart so quickly? One minute we were all fighting, and winning. The next, Samara was hit, and Fane went to protect her, and…
It all came together. I looked up the stairs to find Elazar bounding down, two at a time, his eyes locked onto the body of his dead consort.
Elewyn moved more slowly, deliberately.
I followed her all the way. It was so clear. I wished I had been around before the fight so I could’ve put it together before then. She’d hit Samara, and Fane had thrown himself in front of her to protect her because he needed her to get Elena back. And she had done this to him in retaliation.
Was I the only one who’d seen it? I glanced around, but everyone was either watching Fane slip away or trying to avoid looking on as Elazar collapsed beside Samara and slid his arms beneath her body.
“No, my love!” he wailed, rocking her back and forth as he crushed her to his chest.
Samara was gone, her eyes open and staring up at the ceiling as Elazar cried her name again and again. The sound of his sobs was heart-wrenching.
I glanced over and saw him kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
“No, no, please, wake up. Please, my love, we’ve waited so long for this. Please…”
“She’s gone, brother.” Elewyn stood behind him, looking down at the pitiful scene. “I’m so sorry. She fought hard to free you.”
Who was she kidding?
I looked around again, sure that somebody besides me must’ve seen what really happened.
Felicity and Scott were still involved with Fane.
My father knelt by my side, looking distraught.
Sara stood beside me, her face pressed against Stark’s shoulder as he held her and stroked her back.
But he wasn’t looking at Samara. Or at Fane. He was staring at Elewyn with an expression I couldn’t quite interpret. Muscles in his jaw jumped, and his nostrils flared. He wouldn’t take his eyes from her.
Elewyn noticed and returned his stare. They had a silent conversation for a long, breathless moment before she lifted her chin in what seemed like defiance. His shoulders slumped. He looked away.
Fane’s groans pulled my attention back to where it belonged. He was slipping away, his color practically nonexistent. It made his hair look redder, but not as red as the blood pooling under his shoulder.
It wouldn’t stop bleeding, no matter how Scott pressed against the wound. “Please don’t go. Please. This is all my fault. I can’t let you die now. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, please, stay with us.”
“Not… your fault…” Fane breathed, reaching up to brush the back of his hand against Scott’s tear-stained cheek. “I… can’t…”
I leaned over, looking down into his eyes. “No, Fane, please. Stay. Stay for Jonah, and Philippa, and Gage, and Scott. Stay for your baby and Sirene. You can’t leave them.”
It would crush Jonah, just absolutely crush him if he wasn’t able to patch things up with his father. I knew him too well to think he’d be able to take it. The guilt would destroy him.
“Please. I’ll do anything.” Scott looked at me, eyes wide with desperation.
“Anything?”
Everyone but Fane turned toward Elazar, who was carefully placing Samara’s body on the floor. He kissed the backs of her hands before crossing them over her chest, then rose. “You’d be willing to do anything?” he asked as he came to us.
“What do you mean?” Gregor asked, holding up a hand to silence Scott before he could say something hopelessly stupid which couldn’t be taken back.
“There may be something I can do to help,” the necromancer explained. His face was still contorted in grief, but not around the eyes. His eyes were hard, businesslike.
“What? What can you do?” Scott urged.
“Not so fast.” He stood over Fane’s head, looking down.
It was clear we were losing Fane—there might only be moments left.
I looked up at Elazar, who smiled at us all.
“I don’t do anything for free.”
21
Anissa
I glanced around, gauging the reactions of those around me. I couldn’t be the only person here who thought Elazar was up to something.
All of my experience with Marcus came flooding back. All the times when he’d offered something before demanding something much larger in return. That was how men like him operated. Elazar was just like him. An opportunist, even with his consort lying dead behind him. Hadn’t he just wept over her body?
“What do you mean, you don’t work for free?” Scott asked.
I would�
�ve hit him if the situation weren’t so dire. I didn’t want Fane to die any more than he did, but he was being reeled in and didn’t seem to realize it. Or didn’t want to, as his father breathed his final breaths.
“My services are valuable at a time such as this—but I don’t perform favors. I require payment.” His cold gaze and smooth, handsome features offered nothing of what went on under the surface.
“What’s the payment, then?” Scott urged. His eyes kept darting back and forth between the necromancer and his dying father.
I couldn’t help but register the way Fane’s breathing had changed. There were long pauses between each gurgling intake of air, and the breaths themselves were shallower. He had minutes left, if not seconds.
Elazar shook his head, still expressionless. Like he was discussing the weather instead of a matter of life or death. “I will announce repayment once the deed is done. I only feel it necessary to warn you that I do not work for free. I wouldn’t want any unfortunate misunderstandings.”
Scott looked as though he were all but ready to sign his father’s future away. “Scott,” I hissed with a sharp shake of my head.
“He’s not your father,” he growled.
“Which is why I can think clearer than you can right now. I know you want to save him. I want to save him, too.”
“He’s dying!”
“I know that!”
“Both of you, stop this,” Felicity warned, raising her voice to drown ours out. “This isn’t helping Fane.” Even so, the look she exchanged with me said she was on my side.
“You’re right. This isn’t helping my father.” The look Scott shot me nearly froze the blood in my veins.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t understand his desperation. I couldn’t help but think about my mother in those moments, remembering what Gregor had said about her. She was missing. Probably dead. If it had been her on the floor, I likely would’ve promised the moon and more just to keep her with me—or that would’ve been my impulse, at any rate. Which was why Scott needed a voice of reason to help him make sense of it.
