“Tell her, or I will,” Baba Yaga snaps.
Jestin looks at me, haunted and broken. Not like him at all.
“Santorili has fallen.”
The world freezes.
“Say that again,” I demand, refusing to believe what I’ve just heard.
He averts his gaze, staring out the open window.
“Samira made a deal with Chief Gerald. She surrendered the city. The Elementals burned… the city.” His voice breaks on the last word, and I squeeze his hand tighter. “Bane flewwith the news while you were unconscious. He and Riven took off immediately to summon their army and help however they could.”
Riven…
“She wouldn’t betray us.” I refuse to believe our friend would do something like that. She loves that city as much as Jestin. As much as I do.
Jestin’s jaw clenches, and his expression stiffens. “She did. And I can’t even be mad at her. If I lost you, I’d burn the world too.” Then, quieter, almost to himself, he adds, “I shouldn’t have separated them. It’s my fault.”
“No!” I choke out, trying to hold back tears. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. If I had just…”
“Stop,” he cuts me off, voice sharper than ever. “I was in charge. It was my decision. My failure.”
“But there’s more,” Baba Yaga says.
I’ve forgotten she is here. My chest tightens. What else? Isn’t it bad enough?
“Can’t you give me a minute with her?” Jestin turns to Margorate, but she shakes her head, fixing me with a look of pure anger, no sympathy in sight.
“You overdosed on the Argorian root. Your heart stopped. The shapeshifter drank it from your veins. Siphoned it out to save you.”
He did what?
“Where is he?” I cry, panic clawing at my chest. I jerk up, but my damn muscles refuse to cooperate.
Jestin grabs my wrist, holding me in place, and forces me to look into his green eyes. “He took the backlash. Your magic attacked him. His body’s… his magic’s burning itself out.”
Margorate pins me with a look worthy of a Queen, shattering my heart. “He’s turning mortal.”
I stop breathing. My eyes shoot to my left wrist in a desperate search for the bond mark.
It is there, faded almost beyond recognition.
“Take me to him,” I demand, my voice faltering because of the giant lump in my throat.
Jestin nods solemnly and scoops me up. I want to run, but I need his help.
The whole walk to the other room, my heart feels frozen. I don’t want it to beat. Panic claws at me — the terror that I may wake up in a world without my Simon.
Hinges croak as Jestin cracks the door open.
As soon as we slip inside, I find Aidon sitting on the bed in the second bedroom, arms wrapped around himself.
He doesn’t move or acknowledge us in any manner.
“Aidon,” I choke out, but there’s no response. He is still staring out the window at a group of kids playing tails.
Hey! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I send it to him mentally.
