I did not lift my head from Jessiah’s bloodied chest as I answered, “I killed them. I killed them all.”
Destinies entangled in a sinister snare, overcome these pleas of passion and despair.
Tears spilled down my face and onto Jessisah’s body. I quit caring about Xavier. Quit caring about the army that got here too late. Quit caring about Cornelius and his magic and everything that went so fucking wrong.
I should have killed him sooner. I should have killed him before he had a chance to take away the one damn thing I cared about in this world.
I cried until I could hardly see, until the despair in my veins started to tingle with that familiar feeling of death magic.
But I no longer cared to control it.
In the shadows of the night, a force both dark and light.
The warm voice of the goddess echoed in my mind with that damn riddle. It repeated over and over again until it drowned out the sound of my tears.
I couldn’t lose him. He was the only damn one who understood me, who saw the real me. He was the only one who didn’t make me feel ashamed of who I really was.
No, Iwouldn’tlose him. Not after everything.
The feeling of my magic—multiplied by the power that had been given to me in Scarlata—pulsed in my body. More, more, more. I summoned it forward aggressively, not caring who was nearby. Not caring who saw.
“Bring him back!” I screamed to the void as I squeezed my eyes shut. “Bring him back, Astraea!”
A force both light and dark.
I could kill hundreds in the blink of an eye with my power. I could murder with barely any effort.
Perhaps I could bring life back, too. Perhaps I could pull Jessiah from that darkness.
Perhaps the goddess would give me another chance.
“Please,” I begged. “Please, bring him back.”
I prayed and prayed to the goddess, to the sky, to anyone who would hear me. I pushed my magic as far as my awareness would reach. I kept my hands clutched to his chest, begging, crying.
There was no life without Jessiah.
Not a life worth living, anyway.
I dug deep to the very last piece of Jessiah that remained within me—that small gem of heart force that he’d given to me. I pulled that to the surface, too, and thrust it outward with my power until my vision spun.
I was ready to give up, ready to forget the whole reason behind this battle in the first place, when Jessiah’s chest rose.
And fell.
I had really lost my fucking mind, because in the middle of the field and surrounded by death, he started to breathe again.
Chapter 45
Jessiah
When I saw Rummy’s face, the first thing I thought wasno, she cannot be dead.She was supposed to be the one who survived. This was all for her—so she could see this through to the end.
Tears soaked her face. Her eyes were rimmed red, but they widened when she looked at me.
“Jessiah?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
My throat was dry as I coughed out an answer. “What happened?” I asked. “Are you all right?”
