She cuts me off with a harsh scoff. "AllI'm worried about? You think the anti-legacy movement is the worst thing out there? Not even fucking close."
"Then enlighten us," Silas hisses angrily, pressing forward. The closer he gets, the more Maven looks torn between backing away and holding her ground. "Whatexactlyis keeping you from accepting that we want you? Why are you fighting this so hard? What is the big, terrible secret that you think we can't handle? Tell the godsdamned truth.”
Maven's temper flares as she looks between all of us. “Fine. You want to know why I'm fighting this so hard? It's not because of your juvenile bet. That hurt like hell, yet for reasons only the assholes in Paradise understand, I still want you—all of you. But I’m literally a fucking dead end for you four idiots, so get it through your thick heads that I justcan’t.”
She wants us.
She wantsme.
Now that I know that, I'm not holding back. Fierce determination sets in.
"Yes, you can," I growl, moving closer to her. "You want us, baby? We're already yours. Our hearts will be bound to yours, and it's that fucking simple."
Helpless anger colors her voice. She shakes her head like she's at the end of her rope and is desperate to make us see what the problem is.
"This is notsimple.You're not getting it. We can't be bound, and I can’t break your fucking curses because I don't have?—"
Abruptly, she cuts off with a pained gasp, her hands flying to her chest. Terror has me forgetting all about the no-touching rule, and I immediately pull her against my chest when her knees collapse and her face twists in pain.
My mate.In pain.
I go into full panic mode.
"Maven? Fuck, what's happening, baby—is it the poison? Is it back?" I ask, my hands going to cover hers where she's clawing at her torso.
Her eyes are squeezed tight. "Gods. Not right now.Please, not right now," she gasps, sounding strangled.
"What's happening?" Everett demands sharply, crowding closer as the temperature around us plummets. "Maven?"
Silas cradles her face and tries to catch her eye, his eyes wide. "Is it that you can't breathe? Baelfire?—"
Before he can even finish the order, I rip open the front of her dress, desperate to help her get air into her lungs. But it's useless. All it does is show us that there is nothing visibly wrong with her perfect chest. The jagged, pale scar between her breasts is unmarred.
"I'm fine," Maven tries to insist, but the strain in her voice is pure agony. She clenches her teeth and tries to bat our hands away but suddenly goes limp.
"Maven?" I shout, my dragon beating on the inside of my head as horror overwhelms me. "Maven!"
Silas pulls out his bleeding crystal and slashes it deeply across his palm. The red flare of blood magic, combined with more smell like burnt copper, fills the dim hallway, illuminating the harsh planes of his face as he tries to heal her chest. I hold my breath, staring at my gorgeous mate motionless in my arms.
For the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours, that horrible image comes back to me: my mate lying in a pool of blood, the scent of her tinged with poison and pain.
No, no, no, no?—
While I'm still spiraling, Everett swears and takes Maven out of my arms before rushing down the hall.
"Where are we taking her?" I demand, keeping up. If it didn't feel like my entire world just turned sideways, I would beat the hell out of him for holding her when he's the last person in a never-ending line of people she wouldn't want touching her.
"To the healers," he mutters. "Because Silas is fucking useless."
Silas scowls as he catches up. "I don't understand. My magic absolutely refuses to work with her. It's almost as if?—"
He cuts off, looking like a train of thought has taken him to a dark place. I don't bother asking what his new theory is because I'm too busy noticing how pale and cold my mate looks.
A minute later, I burst through the double doors and stride into Everbound's lengthy infirmary. Hundreds of years ago, when this castle was first built, it was a chapel devoted to the gods. Now, gone are the pews and priests. Instead, the intricate purple-and-white stained glass windows serve as a backdrop for dozens of empty sickbeds, counters filled with spell ingredients and medicines, and two chattering casters dressed in white. They jump in surprise as we walk in.
Everett is cradling Maven like he's afraid the air around us will hurt her, and I notice the frost climbing up to his elbows. He's losing his shit over this, just like the rest of us, which makes no fucking sense.
"What's going on?" one of the healers chirps in surprise.
