I raced forward, closing the distance between me and the dais.
Whether it was the Valalumir lights or Asherah’s power, I didn’t know. But the contract had just been burned out of my body.
“The final one!” Rhyan’s father shouted, his voice urgent. I could feel the fear in his aura now. He knew what I was, he’d feared it for some time. But he still had control over the Examiner. “End it. Kunda, now!”
“NO!” I screamed. “I will kill you!”
But with a pained look in his eyes, Kunda let the whip fly.
I reached the dais, jumping up and running straight for the Examiner. He held his hands up and I shoved him, hard enough for him to fly off the stage and onto his back. A loud crack sounded as he landed. His eyes closed.
The stripping whip was still attached to Rhyan’s back and he was still screaming, and crying, as if a knife were stabbing him again and again. I reached for the whip, determined to pull it off him, to use my healing to keep it from hurting him, but his father got there first. Grabbing and yanking it off. The strip detached and then Rhyan made a sound that shouldn’t have been possible to make. It was primal, and ancient, and pained, and scared, and something inside of my soul cleavedin two. There was a second where I had to decide whether to fight Imperator Hart and claim the box full of Rhyan’s magic, or go to Rhyan. To save him.
I was at the pole a second later as Imperator Hart ran from the dais toward the waiting ashvan, pushing a scared soturion to the ground. Kane ran behind him, looking back just once, a promise of death in his eyes, his face bloodied and swelling.
I sheathed my swords, eyeing our surroundings. We were alone for the moment, but not for long. I pulled out my stave, letting it slide from the leather scabbard Rhyan had gotten me, and pointed it to the sky, uttering the incantation needed for a protective dome. White light burst from the end, and spiraled in sparkling waves around us. We were inside, and we were untouchable. But not for long.
Blood covered Rhyan’s body. His muscles were twitching and contracting. He’d collapsed against the pole. The distinct pungent smell of sweat clung to him, as well as something coppery and metallic. His blood. But there was more.
I scented vomit. And the other scent in the air came from a small pool of liquid by his feet. He’d wet himself, too.
None of it mattered to me. I reached out my aura, trying to warm him, to comfort him.
But that was the moment when I realized … I couldn’t feel his calling back to me. There was no cold, no sensation of a comforting night, as quiet and soft as freshly fallen snow. There was no balm to my heat, no balance to my fires, no softening to my pain.
Rhyan’s aura was gone.
That final strip had taken all of his magic.
I sank to my knees, ripping off my soturion cloak and wrapping it around him, trying not to hurt his back, but it was impossible. He’d been whipped within an inch of his life. There was no part of his body uninjured, or thatwouldn’t cause him excruciating pain if touched. I remembered how it felt when I’d been whipped. How my back had been torn to shreds. Everything that touched it hurt—and now Rhyan had that same feeling, only it was everywhere.
I focused my energy on my hands, letting any healing power I had flow through me as I reached for what appeared to be a clean spot on his shoulders. The magic flowed at once, and his breath slowed. Just a little. I could feel his pain then, feel the whip. Feel my skin breaking open, my muscles bruising.
Shit. I bit back a cry. And I poured more energy in.
“Lyr?” Rhyan asked suddenly, his voice was raw and scratched. Slowly, he opened his eyes, red and bloodshot. There was something in them—the loss he’d endured, and the trauma evident in the strange color they now had. Like the light inside him, the glow behind the emerald color, the connection to his essence, his soul, was gone. There was vomit mixed in with the blood on his chest. A pool of it on the ground beneath him, just below where his head had fallen. “Are you …” he coughed, making a horrible retching sound, and blood dribbled on his chin, “you’re really here?”
“I’m really here, Rhyan,” I said, biting my lip to keep from crying, from screaming. I was taking on his pain. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fucking enough. None of his wounds were closing. “I’ve got you. It’s all right. It’s over now. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to protect you.”
“You’re here,” he said again. But I could barely hear the words. He was so weak, he didn’t even sound like himself. Every part of him was shaking and his skin was so cold despite how red it was. “You shouldn’t be.”
“Not your decision right now.”
I was distantly aware that there was an attack on the dome around us. Mages striking it with their magic. Soturithrashing it with the swords. Everything was bouncing back, but I could feel the brunt of the hits, and I knew we were running out of time.
Rhyan tried to hold onto the cloak, to cover himself, but he was too weak, and let it fall. I picked it back up and wrapped it around his shoulders again, and reached beneath his arms, pulling him back to his feet. The moment his heels were on the ground, he stumbled forward, falling to his knees and crying out in pain.
He was so injured that he looked ready to faint. His eyes rolled back in his head, and I reached for him again, pouring more energy into him. It was starting to drain me. I could feel the barest hint of exhaustion creeping through my aura, into my body.
Not yet!
Once more, I got him to his feet, and this time, I supported all of his weight with my hands, pulling him against me, and hugging him, knowing it would pain him. But it had to be done. I couldn’t let him fall again.
He made an animalistic sound, some kind of pitiful mewing that ended in a cry.
“Sorry,” he breathed.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to fix this. I swear.”
