“Aye, I thought not. I can’t feel him anymore. Not nearby, at least.”
A sob slipped free, her chest constricting with his words.
Neither could she.
He’s just… gone?
“Shh, I know, Lunara. I know,” he choked out. “Let’s get you safe and worry about the rest later, aye?”
Magnus clambered over the debris of the fallen tower and stumbled onto the winding staircase, down into the castle where Demons she couldn’t name rushed forward to meet them. He refused to let them pry her from his arms, trudging through the massive corridors until he reached her guest chamber.
No. No. No.
One second they’d been together, wrapped up in each other’s bodies exactly as they should have been, and next he was being ripped away from her in shadowed clutches.
She’d tried to fight. Sisters, how she’dtried.
She wanted to thrash, to scream. She wasn’t meant to be in the Veil, but she wasn’t meant to be here either, back in her room with?—
“Fern,” she wheezed. “Fern.”
“Aye, it’s alright. I’ll check on her soon as you’re settled.”
There would be no such thing assettled.Not as long as he was gone.
Not real. Not real. You aren’t even here. It’s not real.
She hated how comforting the sound of herself was, emerging once more to protect her. She’d been utterly content for the first time in so long, and it had finally let her be. So long it had let herbe. But now?—
Maybe you didn’t see what you saw. Maybe it’s just another nightmare.
She looked for something to be wrong. To find a door that shouldn’t be there, or a white flash in the corner of her vision.
“It didn’t happen,” she choked. “Itcan’thave happened, Magnus.”
“Lunara…” Despair laced his tone as he passed the sitting area and fireplace.
He laid her on the downy mattress that wasn’t supposed to be hers anymore, and she lost all control.
“No.” The last dregs of her magic flooded to the surface with nauseating suddenness. “No, no, no, no,no!” Her wail shook the walls.
Raw power shot forth from her body and knocked Magnus clear across the chamber and into the fireplace mantle. She should’ve been mortified but, as the last ounce drained and the blinding prismatic light died away, Lunara had nothing left within her. No energy. No feeling.
Just a gaping hole where her heart should be.
Magnus approached her carefully with one arm stretched out, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. He only paused for a moment before, as gently as a male his size could, he eased his body onto the mattress and perched himself beside her.
“Calm yourself, witchling,” Magnus whispered as he swept hair from her face. “Let me help you.”
“What’s the point if he’s gone?” she croaked.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and pinned her with a look of utter desolation.
“Let me do this, Lunara. Please,” his voice hitched. “For him.”
She didn’t bother to reply as he plucked a small knife from his belt, swiping the blade across his wrist with no thought for himself. She tried to force her shattered limbs to work so she could turn away and ignore what was being offered, but a drop of his blood splashed onto the blanket beside her and she froze, her eyes latching onto the stain.
In that moment, Lunara truly hated herself. Hated the gnawing, overwhelming hunger. The way her body betrayed her and somehow leaned towards him, too concerned with healing itself to remember her spine was broken and she wasn’t supposed to have to take the blood gift of anyone other thanhim.
