And he smacks his hand against Nythen’s. The dagger skitters along the floor, hitting the wall. “This is too much. You’re killing her for revenge, and nothing more. If you insist on this, I want no part of it.”
Killing me.
“Please.” My voice is a rasp, and both of them turn to me. The expression on Valcor’s face makes me wonder how long I remained unconscious. My eyes find the dagger on the floor. “Finish it.”
No more.
No more.
Something is broken, and I am done.
His face twists. Nythen lifts the skin again.
My cry goes unheard as the water sweeps in once more.
Darian
Blowing out a breath, I stare up at the sky. Shades of green and blue and purple stretch across the expanse of black, several stars peeking out between.
It feels like walking the grounds at night is the only time I get any peace. Any respite from the nightmares inside my head.
Mine. Other people’s. They all mix together, and sometimes I don’t even know the difference. Does it really matter, when they’ve all taken up residence inside my own mind.
I don’t turn around at the first shout. The second draws my attention.
It’s the boy, Weslyn. He stumbles to a stop, dropping his hands to his knees as he wheezes. “I was looking… everywhere.”
Tension tightens my spine. “What is it?”
He’s too young to have the hollow look life in Umbraxis puts into people, but he’s wearing it anyway. His eyes dart around thewalkway as if expecting the stones themselves to tattle on him for whatever he’s about to tell me. “It’s— it’s the witch.”
“What about her?” Every instinct sharpens at the pallor on his face. “Spit it out, Wes.”
“I was on duty. And I wasn’t messing with her.” Wes swallows hard. “Two of the other Council members came. And they said I shouldn’t tell you, but it didn’t feel right.”
My head turns toward the entrance of the prison.
Lyra.
“Get Kaelen.” My head threatens to swim. “Find him, or Eres Blackwater. Start in the hall and tell them what’s happened.”
I take off, leaving Wes behind me as my feet eat up the distance to the entrance. I’ve been out here for hours, and I don’t know how long it took him to find me.
Surely, Nythen wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
A choked sound comes from my throat. Hewould, if he thought it necessary.
We’ve been so focused on the enemy outside that we lost sight of the threat to Lyra inside these walls.
My pulse turns into a hammer as I tear the door open. I take the stairs two at a time, then three, my hands sliding along the rail as the world tilts downward before I silently make my way down to her cell.
They’re not looking at me at all. Valcor and Nythen are locked in their own argument, their voices covering any sound I might have made.
“Enough,” Valcor shouts. “It’s enough!”
Nythen stands opposite him. Leaner, his eyes hard and posture rigid with restrained fury.
And between them, on the stone floor close to the doors, is Lyra. Curled on her side like a discarded toy.
