Her expression shadows, becoming positively sinister. “My mother is dead because of your inaction.”
Standing on a tiny platform where one slip would mean my death is not the place to have this discussion. I glance over my shoulder, then back at Cindel. The only way inside is through the window where she stands. “Cindel—”
“She died because of you! I demand blood now!” Cindel screeches. She moves so fast, it’s almost a blur. She nearly launches herself from the window to throw an artificer’s cog at me.
I narrowly dodge, managing to keep my balance on the landing as the heavy metal disc falls and falls to the ground below. I reach for one of the scrolls, readying my own projectile. But another one of her lackeys is there, what looks like the broken leg of a chair in hand. They were both ready—I bet they were the ones to put this damn bag here to begin with. I dodge again,boots scraping to collect my balance.
Cindel is back, and I’m not fast enough this time.
I don’t even see what she throws, but something heavy and dull smacks my temple, and I stumble. The world blurs. I blink rapidly, trying to bring it back into focus. Reaching out a hand, I search for the wall, but I can’t find it. The world tilts, and my fingers grope the open air.
Shit.
I fall.
52
The world oscillates between a hazy night and complete darkness as my stomach shoots into my throat, blocking my scream.
Howling wind rips at my clothes and stings my eyes, drawing water from them that blurs the world around me. I blink, but it does little good. Part of me is screaming,I’m going to die, but another part of me is just…falling. It feels inevitable. Like this was the moment that had been stolen from fate.
I should have died that day…The rogue thought that’s haunted me for six years is one of my last.Why didn’t you kill me?
The question I’ll never have answered. The dragon’s copper eyes shine in my mind. The warmth of its breath washing over me as the beast just stared at me. As if waiting. The talon. Then the blinding light that changed my eyes and the course of the rest of my life.
My death was stolen from that dragon—from fate itself—that day.
And I always knew fate would catch up to me eventually. But I’m not ready to die.
The thought screams in my head like breaking glass, and then I stop suddenly, my body slamming intosomething. No, not slam into… I’m caughtonsomething, and my head snaps against stone as I’m brought to a violent halt. The world spins as pain explodes in my joints. My ribs pop, and I dry heave as the air is knocked completely from my lungs when I double over. I vaguely note that some sort of loop encircles my waist—as though someone is holding me.
I force my eyes open but see nothing. My lids might as well beclosed with how blurry and dark everything is. It’s as though I’ve fallen into a cloud of black smoke.Whatever Cindel hit me with really messed up my vision.
Like a rag doll, I’m dragged through a broken window. My arms are scraped by the jagged glass, but the pain hardly finds traction. Everything is numb and distant. The floor embraces me, supporting my body, and I gasp in pain. Every beat of my heart says it cannot take much more.
Vaguely, I hear the heavy thrum of wind…no, not wind. Panting. Ragged breathing. Someone who’s more out of breath than me.
Two hands on my cheeks.
“Isola?”
Lucan.
“Isola, are you…?” A ragged breath and then, “Please come back to me.”
I want to. Really, I do. I want to be able to pull myself out of this state. But the connection points between my mind and body are scattered. My heart continues to flutter and strain.
Sleep…
“Wake up,” he growls, grabbing both my cheeks firmly.“Wake up!”There’s a deep resonance in his voice that I’ve never heard before. Something almost feral. Raw. It seems to speak to my very soul.
His hands are on me. I feel them yanking at the laces on my jerkin. His fingers brush against my collarbone, warm and familiar. They trace over my scar, the palm of his hand pressing against the sigil etched into my chest.
Heartbeat slowing, warmth returning to my body, I manage to open my eyes. The world is still a bit blurry, but I can now see him looming over me. Lucan is nothing more than a shadow, backlit by the shimmering gold of Ether. He’s using his healing sigil.
“Thank you,” I rasp.
He hangs his head and draws a shuddering breath. I stare at him in the flickering light of the single sconce.
