“Clarissa, listen to me.” I took her chin in my hand. “Stay with me, okay? Tell me what you need.”
She shook her head and blinked rapidly. “I—I’m okay. I just…it surprised me.” She gripped my forearms and took a deep breath, like she was trying to ground herself. When she leaned her head against my chest, I instinctively weaved my arms over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said faintly.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Empress.”
We stood like that for a moment as her breaths evened out and her shaking limbs finally relaxed into my hold.
But the second she lifted her gaze, a muffled scream rang out from outside.
Both of our necks snapped to the door. I bolted toward it and yanked it open, searching for signs of danger. Clarissa gasped when Devora, her maid, sprinted across the dark courtyard.
“Rissa, you have to come! Please!” she cried out, staggering closer.
“What is it, Devora?” Clarissa demanded.
“Katrine. It’s Katrine,” Devora said, her voice wavering. “He—the king. He was kissing her, and then she—she just?—”
Horror ripped through me. Clarissa and I shared a glance before we both took off at a sprint.
48
Clarissa
We’re too late. We’re too late. We’re too late.
There was no way we’d get to Katrine in time. Galen’s curse was too fast, too deadly.
Thorne and I dashed to the campfires, him only pausing long enough to yell back at Devora to stay at the house with Marigold and Mia. Thankfully, many of the islanders had already gone home, given the late hour, and only a handful were crowded around the firepit Galen had been sitting at. The Zelorias, my brother and Rose, and Nox were among them. I pushed my way through and stopped in my tracks.
We were too late.
Katrine’s body lay crumpled on the ground. Her dark skin was dried and flaking, the flesh almost peeling from her like thin paper.
“No,” I breathed out, falling to my knees. The memory of the woman who’d died in my arms at the Drakin’s Lair mere weeks ago flashed through my mind. I’d been too late to save her too. Both of these women had trusted me, put their faith in me, and I’d failed.
When I glanced up, I saw Galen’s shaking form leaning against a tree in the shadows, eyes bloodshot and mouth open in silent terror.
Whispers of confusion swirled around me from the islanders.
“How did this happen?”
“Did anyone see her fall?”
“What’s wrong with her?”
Perhaps nobody saw Galen kiss her—or didn’t connect the dots.
Nox knelt at my side. “Did you know her?”
I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear landed on my arm. “She was my maid. She was a sweet girl.” Trying to hold back a sob, I reached out an arm to cup her cracked cheek, and her skin felt like sandpaper rubbing against mine.
And then…
I felt my magic.
I sucked in a breath. It was like when I touched the rotted land or Galen’s skin. The same sensation stormed through me, lighting me with warmth and power andhome. Golden magic filled my veins, and my fox half purred deep in my chest.
