Ember screams, and it rends through the space, vibrating the walls, trembling the very floor.
“Ember …” Kasper breathes as she clutches Felix. He didn’t realize it was her, but I don’t fucking care. His hands shake, so much blood coating them. Skittishly he takes in all of us, eyes landing on me.
My glare is a promise. I will fucking kill him for this.
Kasper swallows, eyes fluttering, and he rushes to a window, forcing his way out, and flees into the night. Scorpius looks half-conscious, splayed on the floor, Felix is bleeding out, Ember trying to save him.
I keep channeling, Draven’s suffocated breaths piercing me, his head on my knees, his hands on his throat. Felix staggers, colliding to the ground, Ember wrapped around him.
I can’t save them both.
We need help.
Draven’s eyes flutter. I feel the flicker of his presence within my mind, guiding me, showing me where to mend as I push that magic into pressing the skin back together, forcing it to fuse, to stitch.You even heal angry.Draven’s voice is a wisp in my mind.
It reminds me of what he said, all those weeks ago with Kenzo’s training.It requires something softer.
Show me,I beg him. His presence grows stronger within me, a guiding light to lead me where to go, how to heal him. My desperation to save him, my desire to be with him every day of my cursed life, all flood into him, and the bleeding slows.
And I realize it needed deep, compassionate love.
His skin’s pale under all that red, but he takes a reedy gasp as I finish.
“I’m … going … to … parcel … that … fucker … out,” Draven pants. There’s a crimson scar across his throat now, as if it happened ten years ago, the skin not sewn perfectly. His side is still pumping blood and I shove my palm against it, letting that love pour through channeling the Empress, darning skin like two pieces of stubborn cloth, sewing my name into his. No sooner has the first, deepest layer of skin healed over when he places a hand on mine. “Help … Felix.”
I scramble across the floor to Felix’s side, his breaths violent, hacking, body convulsing. The dagger sticks straight into his sternum. If I try to remove it, he’ll die. If I don’t, he’ll die. I turn to Ember. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him.”
“Please, please.” Ember sobs, holding his shoulders.
There’s so much blood all over me. Draven’s. Felix’s.
“I’m so cold. Why am I … so cold?” Felix grips my hand, but I try anyway, summoning the same Arcana cards I used on Draven.
“If I pull the knife slowly, maybe I can try to heal right behind it.” I sound frantic, but I’ll do whatever it takes. I clench the knife, but he cries out so hard I release it. I turn to Ember, who looks stricken. “Be ready to cauterize it. Maybe it’ll stop the bleeding.”
I force the healing toward him, sinking into his chest, but I’m exhausted from healing Draven, and it’s not as strong. I’m so fucking livid, hopeless, lost.
I choke on a sob. Feeling down deep within Felix, my magic can tell that the knife has bent on bone, pierced his heart. I don’t know how to mend a vital organ. It’s not just skin or avein, it’s too complex. He’s too far gone. Blood keeps pouring out of new places despite the Empress’s magic. I don’t know if I’m saving him or killing him faster.
Felix reaches out, a finger tracing Ember’s cheek. The Four of Swords burns, collapsing to the floor, the imagery burning out like it’s been pulled from a forge. Felix chokes. I push more of myself into the World and the Empress, but the latter card begins to burn along its foil, too. It’s not working. Blood dribbles against his lips, and his round eyes shimmer with tears. He tries to grab the knife, but his grip is too weak. His eyes flick to mine, blinking off-kilter. “I’m not ready to go … please … I’m not ready …”
“Stay with me,” Ember begs, squeezing him tighter.
All at once his eyes fade, pupils dilating, the life draining so quickly, like a waterskin with the bottom slashed out. It’s all just gone. The Empress flashes, burning, and drops to the ground, leaving me shaking.
The door blasts open. Cleona, Amaya, and Wynter stand in the fiery entry. Cleona must have used her Sun card to blow open the door. Books burn in piles around her as the rest of our group finally burst through.
“We were all just chatting outside and saw Kasper run by covered in blood—” She breaks off when she sees Felix.
“Is he …?” Amaya can’t seem to say it.
“Kasper,” I answer.
Wynter’s face curls into rage. “Why would he do this?!”
“He stole something dangerous and plans to give it to the seraph king. He’s his bastard son,” I explain.
Cleona and Amaya comfort Ember, who is sobbing so hard I don’t know what to do for her. Fable runs to her brother, and Zara and Malik check in with Draven, the blood still wet on his torn shirt and jacket, staining his skin.
