When she stopped tumbling, when she finally stilled, she didn’t make another sound. She did not move.
What if freedom meant outliving her? What if all the talismans, the vows, the victories, only led me to her empty throne? I didn’t survive the labyrinth to walk out into a world where she wasn’t by my side.
My vision stuttered as I collapsed beside her in the grass. She wasn't moving. Was she breathing?
Something inside me cracked so violently I dropped her knife, the one she'd given me to use for defense.
“No,” I growled. “Fucking no.”
Twisting, I flung everything I had at Prager. Every. Damn. Thing.
I called wind, binding it with fire and metal, dragging the copper taste of blood from the breeze and forging blades from it as well. I hurled them at the wizard, fire scorching along the rim of my boiling mass. The ground beneath her feet tore open as I yanked stone from under the grass. Dorion's power surged with mine, his hands alight, flames condensing into violent threads that spun out like whips and lashed across the wizard’s body.
Our combined strike should’ve been enough to punch holes in the sky.
Prager staggered backward, her breath hitching. Blood spilled from one nostril. She’d tried to pull magic together, but Reyla’s final strike had left her brittle.
With a groan, she fell, hitting the ground with a wet thud.
Ignoring her, I reached for Reyla.
She lay face down, unmoving, her fingers curled around the grass. A gaping wound tore through her mid-back, magic-burnt and rimmed with black. Her breathing was shallow. Too. Fucking. Shallow. Her chin rested crookedly in the grass.
“Stay with me, Reyla,” I whispered, my voice breaking through her name.
I rolled her gently, cradling her up into my arms, my hands slipping on the warm slick of her blood. With a gut-wrenching cry I did all I could to hold her form together with my will alone. I infused healing magic into her. Again.
Her head lolled, dropping against my chest, the same way shedid when I held her, and she knew she could trust me to keep her safe.
Why hadn’t I kept her safe?
I didn’t care what spell it was. I grabbed onto power and pushed it into her.Save her. Save her, please.
I wanted to latch onto something, but the truth was unraveling in my arms. I searched her face to find a switch, some crack in the world where I could reach in and pull her soul back.
Was she breathing? I couldn’t tell if she was breathing.
She couldn’t be gone. Not my wildfire. I hadn’t told her I loved her enough, not even close. I needed to tell her that everything I was tilted toward her, that no throne or glory, no future or fire, meant anything without her.
I'd failed the only person who mattered.
She didn’t open her eyes. If I had been stronger, faster, she’d be with me now. If only I could go back and redo this. I’d give my life for hers.
“Come back, love,” I rasped. “Wake up. You have to.”
A small gasp shot from her mouth, a bare gust of air. Then nothing.
I could not breathe.
Her face slackened. Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes remained closed.
I felt her slipping away. More power. I sent it into her. “Heal her, damn you. Heal her!”
I pressed my forehead against hers. I needed her here. Please, please. This world needed her, and she was being torn away, slipping through my fingers like light fading behind dark clouds.
All I could hear was her laughter when we sat on the tower roof. I’d wrapped her in my arms while the stars flooded the sky above. We’d shared our lives and…I needed to share more. So much more.
Dancing after her coronation. The glow of happiness on her face. The weight of the crown on her head. The trust in her eyes.
