…I see him.
He’s what’s draped over Wren’s saddle.
Oh, God.
Quinn.
Dax, along with Ian, Tristan, and Gavin, gently lay him on the ground. He’s bleeding from... I don’t know where because there’s so much blood. I’m afraid to get close. Afraid he’s dead. The possibility is horrifying. But at his grunt when they peel away his jerkin, I choke out a whimper of relief. My joy, however, is short-lived because when Tristan moves aside, I finally view the extent of the damage, and I drop to my knees.
I have never prayed, not once during the years I was in the tower. Not for myself or for the parents I lost. I never begged God for my freedom. I simply…existed…never asking for anything, but I clasp my hands, and with my gaze fixed on Quinn, I silently beg God to forgive him for bartering away his soul. To find it in His merciful heart to understand why Quinn made that drastic decision in the heat of a desperate moment. I ask God to please, please, don’t let him die because I believe he is a good man.
And we need him to save Rygard.
Also, I need him because I… Because when he touches me, a lifetime of loneliness fades under his hands.
And then I close my eyes, realizing I’m speaking to the wrong deity.
I should direct my pleas to the devil.
“Rapunzel.”
My eyes fly open at my name. I spring to my feet, and there’s Wren, blood-soaked hand extended at me. Without a thought, I run toward him…
…and throw my arms around him.
To my shock, he hugs me back.
“What happened?” I’m barely able to push out the words.
“John’s soldiers happened.” He sets me away from him. Rage and worry clash across his face. “They used a poisoned blade on Quinn.”
Whatever else Wren says gets lost as my focus shoots to Quinn. I step closer, and there it is. Thick, black sludge pollutes the deep lacerations on his face and throat. “Wren, no.”
He grabs me by the shoulders, with his gauntleted fingers biting into me. He shakes me—hard. Hard enough that I grit my teeth to keep my molars from grinding. “Look at me.” I want to, but I can’t tear my gaze from Quinn. “I said fucking look at me, Rapunzel.”
My face is wet from desperate tears. Each lungful of air is a battle as panic takes hold of me.
“You need to listen to me.” Wren shakes me again, and the jolt snaps me out of my stupor. “John has Sybil.”
My bones liquefy. They must, because why else would my entire body slip out of Wren’s hold and slide to the ground? But he’s right there with me, his hands curled around my upper arms, holding me steady as painful tremors seize me.
“How do you know this?” She was always careful.Always.
Wren releases me and shoves my wild hair back from my face. “With the strength and awareness Quinn had left, he told me Stephan of Glasburg led the attack on Haversville. Quinn knew him, and right after he murdered the fucker, soldiers used a tainted blade on him.” He cups my face, his gaze silently pleading with me. “That’s Sybil’s poison killing him. Help him, Rapunzel. Please.”
I don’t need heightened empathy to know asking me this cost Wren every drop of his pride—not that it should. This is me…and him. And years ago, I was so wrong not to save his father. I may not have fed Percy Kincaid the poison, but withholding the cure made me an accomplice to his murder.
“Take it.” I grab a chunk of my hair and hold it out to him. “Take it all to save him.”
Take every last strand if it will cleanse my conscience.
Wren’s broken smile destroys me. “Hopefully we won’t need that much.”
Together, we hurry through the group surrounding Quinn. I fall beside Dax, and he pats my thigh. His strength helps to give me the fortitude for what’s coming because although I know what to expect when I touch Quinn, nothing can prepare me for when I place a hand on his chest. His agony is a tidal wave crashing through my veins. In its wake flows the living darkness that dwells inside him. That energy is a powerful force, pulling me down… Down so far that if it wasn’t for Wren’s support behind me and Dax beside me, I couldn’t resurface.
“We’re running out of time.” My words are for no one and everyone. “I need yarrow, comfrey, and woad. Also, a mortar, pestle, and scissors. Hurry.” I squeeze my eyes closed. White explodes behind my lids. The commotion whirls around me but slowly dissipates until all I hear is Quinn’s body working furiously, but uselessly. Fighting to overpower the venom. When I reopen my eyes, Dax, Wren, and I are the only ones left. But even they fade. I lean low and press my lips to Quinn’s ear. “I know you hear me, Quinn Redgrave. Tell that demon he can’t have you. You’re mine, and I won’t give up on you.”
Nothing. Not a flutter of his eyelids or a twitch of his lips.
