Everett.
Delirium rattled in his bones, a resonance nuzzling marrow-deep.
18
NOT STRONG ENOUGH
The bedspread was black satin,its shine matching the sleek, onyx headboard that was an extension of the obsidian wall, glistening against the saffron glow of the fireplace across the room.
Finnian pressed his back against the stained oak door, grateful Cassian teleported him into a room and left.
Terror frayed at his nerves. He clenched his hands to control the trembling in his fingers.
A polyphonic stream of voices filled the vicinity of his skull.
You must right your wrongs.
Naia’s name ran rampant amongst the mortals.
Mira had fallen.
Now, all he needed was to find Father.
You must.
How? Strapped to Cassian, how could he sneak off to Moros?
You have failed.
No, he still had time.
Father is already disappointed in you.
He could figure something out.
What makes you think he wishes to see you?
Naia is happier without you.
You ruin everything?—
He gripped the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t. Idon’truin everything.”
The hum rang louder in his skull; a buzz rattled down his jaws and seized the nerves.
He slumped down on the door and tucked his head between his knees. Staring through the dark at the floor, he gripped his nape.
“I don’t,” he said again, hoping the words would slow his racing heart.
“You’re pathetic.”
The voice cut in the room and Finnian snapped his head up.
Someone stood in the corner, their frame short and dressed in a gray frock coat.
Finnian’s stomach turned to stone as his thirteen-year-old self moved out of the flickering shadow of the firelight.
He stared down at Finnian, his expression steely and with a look of indifference. “Every second that passes, the curse sinks its teeth further into your mind. A few days' time and you won’t have the wits to even find Father, much less save him.”
