She flinches, but swiftly returns her expression to neutral and says, “There’s nothing healers can do. Not until they’ve returned. Some may not.”
Before I grant Aether the chance to tear out the female’s throatfor suggesting such a possibility, the sound of ice cracking fills the room and Ryc’s chest heaves.
The rush of relief is sweeter than the euphoric high of death and I collapse against him, sobbing. The feverish pitch of my panic crashes into the depths of my being from the heights of the universe, and it sends my innate into a high-strung vibration around my heart.
As Generals begin to move and cough, Ryc’s arms curl around me and he clutches me close, turning his face aside to combat for air as I had. The Generals, used to such ventures, swarm around two or three other Generals, giving orders in swift-spoken Malbolge to the crimson-robed spectators.
They didn’t make it.
What happened?
The still-frozen bodies of three Generals are hoisted and carried from the room.
Ryc draws back, capturing my face in his hands. His wide, fear-filled gold eyes search mine.
“Little love,” he whispers and there’s more than strong remorse in his tone. “I need you to trust me.”
“Of course.” My lips fly to his face, showering him with kisses. I press my brow to his. “You’re here. You live. You breathe.”
He grimaces, but nods. “I need you to trust that I will make things right.”
Cenviri sweeps past.
“How is she?” he demands.
He snaps his fingers three times and the crimson-robed onlookers rush into the space. I draw back following Cenviri’s flowing black robes, and Ryc’s arms race around my waist, locking me against him. Cenviri lowers himself beside Cyran, and my breathing stops.
His back to me, Cyran cradles Eve in his lap. Cenviri mutters something low before reaching for the buckles of her breastplate.
“Ryc… Ryc what’s happened?” My voice trembles and I try to pull away. He holds me tight. “Ryc, stop! Let me go! What are you doing?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” Ryc says, his voice low. “Let Cyran andCenviri handle this for the moment.”
“Eve? Eve!”
Nothing.
No sarcastic quip in answer.
No movement.
“Cyran! Let me see her!”
Veilflower vines race across the floor, curling themselves around Eve’s ice-coated leg. Finally, Cyran peers over his shoulder, his silver-lined lavender eyes locking onto mine for less than a heartbeat before he turns back to Eve.
I go numb.
No.
Not her.
Not her.
Please, gods,not her.
Not like this.
“Eve!” My voice cracks.
