“I’ll be fine,” he says. “It isn’t deep and there’s no iron embedded in me. I’ll heal once we return to the other side of the wall.”
I then study Breeda, who seems dazed but unharmed.
My next thought is Amelie, and I take off running. Franco tries to call me back, but I let his voice die out behind me, focusing on the fighting at the other side of the beach, seeking a glimpse of copper hair amidst the spray of sand and gunfire. The scene has become clouded by a smoky haze, making it impossible to see much of anything. Then a blue-scaled sea fae clears the haze, darting toward the ocean. Just before he reaches it, an explosion strikes right where he was about to step.
I stop in my tracks as what was once a sea fae is now a radius of flying debris. Bile rises in my throat as pieces of gore land just feet in front of me. I look wildly about, but there’s no sign of my sister. “Amelie!” I call her name again and again, but my voice is drowned out by another explosive blast.
Then I see her.
Near the base of the cliff, she clears the wall of smoke and sand. Cobalt limps after her, no longer a blue nix. In his seelie form, his wounds look far worse, skin a sickly green, his shirt a darker shade of red than Mr. Duveau’s was. What little is left of his collar is grasped in Amelie’s fingers. She squeezes the cloth so hard, her knuckles are white. Once they’re far enough away from the barricade, she releases him, pushing him to the ground. He falls to his knees as he struggles to right himself, hands clasped as if in prayer.
I run toward them, but neither seem to notice my approach.
Amelie looks down her nose at Cobalt, a cruel smile twisting her lips. Then she extends her hand, pointing her dagger at her mate. He hangs his head, but she shouts something at him. With trembling fingers, he accepts the weapon. Not bothering to lift his gaze, he raises his forearm, one already torn to shreds. Pressing the tip of the blade to a patch of ragged skin, he makes a cut.
Words she spoke just days ago ring through my head.I don’t care if I have to force him to peel every inch of skin from his own body. I will do whatever it takes to watch the life fade from his eyes.
She’s doing it. Despite the violence and danger around her, she’s pursuing vengeance like it’s the only thing that matters.
It makes my stomach turn with dread.
Then something else makes my gut drop even deeper. A cylindrical object flies from the haze and lands at Amelie’s feet.
Cobalt’s gruesome ministrations go still, his attention fixated on the grenade. Amelie’s eyes find it next, going wide, draining all the deadly malice from her expression. She retreats a step away from it just as Cobalt lunges forward. Grasping it to his chest, he darts toward the haze.
It explodes.
Again, I stop in my tracks, the sound of the explosion ringing through my ears. This one, however, isn’t the same that ended the life of the sea fae. For Cobalt’s body isn’t obliterated at once. Even so, he lays unmoving, face buried in the sand. I pump my legs to close the distance between me and Amelie, reaching her just as she grasps Cobalt and rolls him onto his back.
I come up behind my sister, recoiling at the sight of the male below her. The damage caused by the explosive may not have been immediate like the other grenade was, but this blast is just as lethal. Cobalt gasps for breath, chest gaping open, his skin coated black. Tiny shards of what I can only imagine is iron pierce everything from his face to his arms, as well as every open lesion.
I’m reminded of the grenades Ustrin had threatened to use against his fire fae when he confronted us in the cave. These must be the same. Cruel, human weapons technology crafted for the fae.
And Cobalt took the entire brunt of it himself to save Amelie.
Amelie’s sobs come out short and heavy, her hands shaking as she attempts to touch him but can find no place uninjured. I want to reach out to comfort her, to pull her away, but I can’t bring myself to move, nor can I bring myself to look away.
He’s dying. Even without the iron puncturing his insides, I doubt even a fae could heal from this type of wound. Especially not on this side of the wall. While the thought of him dead should come as a relief, the sight before me only makes me feel empty.
Amelie’s shoulders slump. “I was supposed to kill you,” she whispers.
His face turns toward her, but I can’t tell if even his good eye remains intact. “And I was supposed to love you,” comes his raspy voice. “I was supposed to bring peace to the isle with a radical seelie reign. I failed at everything. Everything.”
Amelie hangs her head. “Your blood was mine to spill. How dare you take that from me!”
He attempts to lift a hand but doesn’t make it far. “Instead, you have my heart. Always.”
Amelie convulses with the weight of her sobs. “I don’t want it, Cobalt. Do you hear me? I don’t want it.”
“And yet…” He takes a few strangled breaths. “It’s yours.”
His body goes still.
Amelie throws her head back and wails, and a light begins to shimmer over her skin. Then it turns to a deep red flame that dances over every inch of her, rising higher and higher. Her skin begins to blister beneath the heat.
Driven by urgency, I allow myself to place a hand on her shoulder. I ignore the sharp bite of flames that are not my own, and when she whirls to face me, a snarl pulls her lips. Then recognition crosses her face, and she reaches for me. Her flames settle to a gentle roar as I wrap my arms around her, igniting my own flames alongside hers as I fall to my knees at her side. With my fire protecting me from hers, I brush the tangled, blood-soaked hair from her brow and let her rest her head in the crook of my neck.
33
