“No.” It’s a moan. A plea. “Darian. Don’t you fucking dare. You keep breathing.”
Hands shove at me. “You need to wake Lyra up. Now. He can’t get out until she wakes. Wake her up, and quickly!”
Numbness steals over me as I stumble back. “He’s not breathing—”
“And he won’t unless you wake her up, right fucking now!” Eres tears Darian’s shirt open, placing his palms down over his heart and pumping. “Kae,move!”
For one long, tortuous moment, I stare at his hands in horror. At the brutal way he pushes them down into Darian’s heart, at the way he doesn’tmove.
And then I force myself to step away. My feet almost slip as I turn the corner, yanking at the keys and rifling for the right one. My bellow is enough to call back the dead from Erevan’s hold. “Wake up.”
The witch doesn’t move. Shoving the door open with a clang, I dart across the room and yank the coverlet over her away. Gripping her shoulders, I shake her roughly before I notice.
She’scrying. Her eyelids are closed, her body still—but liquid leaks from both eyes, her hair damp beneath her. Sweat dots her forehead, soaking the gold strands around her head. And yet she still doesn’t wake.
What trickery is this?
“Wake up.” I snarl the words into her face. “Now, witch.”
Her breathing shifts, and I shake her again. “Lyra!”
The witch’s chest sucks in, a retching gasp on her lips as she bolts upright, eyes flying open.
There’s no flame in her eyes at all. Only darkness, edged with the smallest hint of gold. And her fucking hand slams straight into my damned throat, the low noise escaping her one of pure fear as she cuts off my air in a single, swift movement.
I choke, shoving her back and twisting back to escape her fist as it swings again. Catching it in mid-air, I squeeze it, ignoring the pained cry that falls from her lips. “What did you do to him?”
Her chest quickens, awareness returning to her gaze in a blaze of flame. “What in Aedryn—”
“What did you do?” I roar into her stunned face.
“I was asleep—”
“He’s waking up!”
At Eres’s shout, I let go of her wrist. The witch stares up at me, her mouth open and those tear tracks still visible on her face.
My finger shakes when I point at her, my voice hoarse. “You had better pray to your god that he makes it through this.”
She curls her hand toward her chest. Her shout follows me as I turn away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
His name is written between every heartbeat in the steps between her cell and his slumped form.
Darian. Darian. Darian.
As if I’m making up for every time I refused to think of him, refused to speak of him. My legs buckle. “Is he—”
Clouded, confused, deepamethysteyes look back at me, brows drawn tight. Eres leans over him, and I grab his shoulder to haul him back so I can get closer. “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
“Kaelen.” Ignoring Eres’s snappish tone, I lean closer. Darian shakes his head. Once, and then again.
Twisting, he heaves. Liquid spatters the floor.
“You’re fine.” Eres shoves me aside, gripping his shoulder. “Get it out.”
Not just once, but again and again, and fear grips my throat once more. “Is he sick?”
But he’s running his hands over himself, as if feeling for injury. The words are barely a croak. “I…she—”
