I laugh weakly. “Well then, I look exactly how I feel.”
Marina doesn’t respond, her eyes darting behind me as she dances nervously on the balls of her feet. An immediate wariness threads through me. The little pixie is rarely quiet, and even more rarely is she nervous. “Out with it, Rina.”
Her hands explode in a fury of movement.Willa woke while you were gone and left in one of the carriages.
I stare at Marina’s fingers for far too long as my death begins to writhe and tremble around me. It lashes against my skin like shards of glass, and black edges my vision as I struggle to remain conscious; to not give myself over to the bliss of darkness.
“When.” It’s more of a growl than a word, but Marina answers anyway.
About an hour ago,she signs solemnly.She was determined. I figured it was better to show her the carriage house than to let her leave on her own with nothing.Her hands hesitate as sudden fury sparks her eyes, and she glares at me.Iwouldhave knocked her over the head and tied her to the chair, butsomeoneordered her not to be harmed.
The accusation is clear in Marina’s eyes and absurd laughter bubbles in my throat despite my exhaustion. “While I appreciate your fervor, if we begin walloping people over the head every time we don’t agree with their choices, I’m afraid we’d have time for nothing else.”
Marina shrugs as if to say she’d greatly enjoy passing the time that way.You’re getting soft in your old age, Niko.
I don’t feel soft; I feel wrung out. Like a dry sponge being squeezed for its last drops.
Collapsing onto the closest stair, I squeeze my eyes shut and allow my death to spiral out from me. Not only the power contained in my ribbons, but the death trapped in my heart the moment I was bonded to Letum. The magic of the island, woven into the very thing which keeps me alive. That ties me to this kingdom and everything in it.
It flashes outward, and I gasp, for a moment overwhelmed by the pure magnitude of life in Letum. The pixies in their refugee camps in the city. Adira’s people, the Silva Lucai, and the island’s children hidden in the Grove. The sirens in the water and the beasts of the forest. The will-o-wisps in the leaves and the spirits in the wind.
And there, shining brighter than the second star, is Willa.
On the same beach she first appeared to me.
She’d been talking to one Strayed that night, naïve as she was. As I see Willa now, the death in my heart burns so cold, I think it’ll pierce straight through my chest. Fierce, terrified, and surrounded by fucking Strayed.
My own terror drips over me in slow, viscous drops, as I realize how much danger Willa is in. And I’ve got nothing left in me to save her.
Chapter fifteen
My grip is steady on the sword as the boy stalks toward me, his cerulean eyes glinting in the starlight. His own sword spins casually in his hand, the movement itself sending a fresh wave of dread catapulting through me. Though lanky in build, his motions contain none of the awkwardness of youth. They’re skilled. Lethal.
He halts above me, running his tongue over his teeth lewdly as he eyes my sword. There is something oddly familiar about his face, something I’m still trying to place when he drawls, “I see the King of Carrion has already prepared you to meet us.”
His voice is like ice sluicing over my skin; like rot and decay. How is that the Niko is the King of Death, and yet this teenager is the one who sounds like something left to fester in the dark?
“Do you see here, kin?” he calls over his shoulder to the other children. They’ve pressed in around me, their movements silent and their eyes bright against their dirty faces. “The King’s given her a sword, so we can have some true fun!”
The boy laughs loudly, the children’s own laughter answering his. The sound, which had been horrible before, is intolerable this close. It hollows out my chest, skids across my skin and digs into my skull. Oppressive, and suffocating.
There is nothing natural about the humor on the boy’s face—it is cruel. Maniacal. Edged in malice and depravity. It’s the feeling that nagged me when I first met Jamie, the one that had stubbornly remained even as I told myself I was being ridiculous.Some company you keep,the Carrion King had sneered.
My stomach squeezes with horror and dread and for a moment, the world narrows above me. Whatever the Strayed are—they arenotchildren. Not as children should be. They contain none of the innocence; none of the inherent kindness.
Sweat slicks my palm as I regrip the dagger tighter, readying myself.
Another of the siren’s screams rents the air, far feebler this time. Like the pain has overcome her. Adira’s warning takes on a new edge, one I understand entirely too well. There are so many times death is a blessing.
The raven-haired boy smiles with sick pleasure as another calls, “What’re we gonna do with her, Dawson?”
The whites of Dawson’s eyes reflect eerily in the dark as he grins down at me. A shudder runs up my spine, but something else begins to burgeon beside it. Something that’s kept me company since I was fifteen and strapped to a table in the Amelioration labs—rage. Fury that burns so deep, its left scorch marks on my bones—fury that’s kept me running, kept me from breaking entirely.
I’ve burned with it so long I’ve grown numb to everything else. But I don’t feel numb now.
As I stare up into Dawson’s young face, it feels like electric sparks have begun to zip over my skin. When it comes to fightor flight, I’ve always tried to choose the latter—I’ll make Dawson regret taking the choice from me. An animal is more dangerous when its caged and cornered.
“Tie her up,” Dawson commands. “We’ll take her back to the Hollows before the king can come spoil the fun.”
