“It’s never going to work,” he says bitterly. “Not like this.”
“Hush,” says Igaa, and I gasp and open my eyes, because her voice is right against my ear. “Focus on your magic.”
The wind in the room picks up, sending straw swirling across the ground. On the other side of the barn, the horses shift anxiously, and Mercy nickers again. Those sparks and stars in my blood settle a bit, withdrawing.
“Try again,” Igaa says patiently.
I close my eyes and try to relax, but Nakiis growls again. “Maybe I should just kill you so you can’t do this.”
Thisis clearly just posturing, so I don’t even look at him. “You’d have to get off the floor first.”
It was a mistake to close my eyes, because I don’t see the attack coming. Nakiis is weak, but my injuries put us on equal footing. I’m shoved back against the ground before I realize it’s happening, and his claws dig right through my tunic and pierce the skin of my upper arms, pinioning me in place.
His wings are crookedly splayed behind him, and my vision is clouded with a haze of pain and magic. I’m trying to struggle, but one arm is still tied to my body with Jax’s makeshift splint, and the other is trapped by Nakiis’s claws.
He leans down, until we’re almost sharing breath. “Would you like to repeat that?”
I wince and try to swallow my pain. “In truth,” I gasp, “you’ve smelled better, Nakiis.”
Igaa stands over him, though she looks more like a disapproving schoolmistress than a fierce creature who’s going to come to my aid anytime soon. “Let him up, Nakiis.” Even her voice is mildly apathetic.
He doesn’t. Instead, his claws dig deeper into my arms, and it pulls a sound from my throat.
I don’t want to beg him to stop, but everything hurts. Those sparks and stars are stealing my vision again.
“Now,” I gasp. “Igaa, now. Even if he kills me—”
“No.” Nakiis lets go of my left arm, but the relief is short- lived, because he drives his claws right under the bandage, grabbing fabric and flesh.
Then he digs in and pulls.
“Please,” I cry, and I hate myself for it. I don’t know if I’m begging him or if I’m begging her.
I do feel like an idiot.
“If you want it, then take it from me. I’m not letting you do this to her.”
The pain is overwhelming. I can’t see. It’s possible I can’t hear and his words are only reaching my brain through his magic. My stomach gives a heave, because it feels like he’s going to rip my arm right out of its socket. I’m curling in on myself involuntarily. I wish I could call for Callyn or the queen. If Nakiis kills me, maybe one of them can merge their magic with Igaa somehow.
They wouldn’t be strong enough.
The thought comes to me unbidden, and I hate it. This plan was destined to fail from the start, but I didn’t expect it to fail so quickly.
I’m so cold. The wind is blasting every bit of exposed skin it can find, and my blood seems to be turning to ice when it pulses out of the wound on my shoulder. Nakiis’s voice is low and vicious in my mind.
— Where’s your magic now, Tycho? You fight so valiantly to save everyone else, but you have nothing left for yourself?
I can’t speak. My throat won’t work. Maybe he’s ripped that out, too. My entire vision is overtaken with vivid stars, bright white in the dimness of the barn.
— Where is your pride? Where is your fight?
His hand shifts again, and I realize I can stillfeel, because something in my shouldergives. I choke on a sound, and the taste of blood coats my tongue.
The air is colder, and I hear Mercy nicker. Nakiis’s magic is in the air now, because I can feel it brushing against my senses, the way he once taught me to feel it.
I hate it. I hatehim. I imagine shoving him away, and those sparksof magic seem to flare in the air, sending the wind swirling away for the barest moment.
“If you want to give me your magic,” I rage, panting, “thengive it to me.”
