My heart lurches into my throat when I find him slumped up against the far wall of my old bedroom. His head is slumped to his chest, his hair tumbling over his forehead. A puddle of blood grows ever larger at his feet, his long fingers clutched to the wound at his stomach.
His eyes fly to mine. Eyes I’ve only ever known as an abiding black—now a clear cerulean, as beautiful as a tropical sea.
“Niko…” I whisper, racing to his kneel at his side.
Blood trickles from the corner of his lip when he tries to speak. Fear sluices down my spine that even though I’ve found him, I’m still too late. I need to get him back to Letum, and hope to the star above the magic of the island is enough to save him.
Niko locks his gaze on mine, and he gives a near imperceptible shake of his head. And though his eyes are no longer are fathomless void, death flickers behind them just the same.
Finish this,they say.Take what we are owed.
“I do relish the irony,” the Aeternalis drawls from the doorway, his voice prickling over my skin like hot iron spikes, “that the King of Carrion will succumb to a mortal death…just like any other.”
With one last look meaningful look at Niko, I rise to face the Everlasting.
His magic is fainter in this world than it was in Letum, reduced to a faint pulsing glow behind his heart. “I shall tell the tale over the fire for the next thousand years…a lesson to all my Strayed of what awaits those who betray their kin.”
“It’s over, Peter,” I warn in a low voice. “You have clung to delusions of grandeur, but you are nothing more than a coddled child. Weak and petulant. You were never powerful enough to keep the land of dreams alive, and so it has abandoned you. It will never be under your control again.”
“You dare callmea coward, cousin?” The Aeternalis snarls, skeletal rage flashing over his features. “When it is you who has spent your entire existence running?”
He schools his face into false pity, its emptiness hollowing the air between us. “The usurper will die here, cut off from the island’s magic. And without him, the island will starve once more. Do you think you’ll run then, Willa Darling, when there is nothing left to anchor you to your precious humanity?”
Pan’s face twists in disgust as his gaze falls to Niko. Despite his injury, despite the natural color of his eyes, Niko returns his gaze with pure death. It is enough to elicit a shudder from Pan’s shadow—enough to scare him into barking, “Dawson!”
Dawson appears in the hallway a moment later. His hook shines in the darkness as he dips, practically dragging his nose over the rotted wood in his sniveling bow. “Yes, Your Highness?”
Malevolent delight sparks over Pan’s features. A malevolence I know too well—the ravening hunger, the unending want.
“You have been the most faithful of kin, Dawson. It is time you were rewarded.”
Dawson remains bowed to the floor; his head dipped in a reverence I never knew him capable of. Something near devotion lines his madness as he gazes up at his master, waiting.
The Aeternalis motions to Niko. “Your brother can be touched in this realm. And I, as the most generous of gods, will grant you the power over him you’ve always dreamed.” He jerks his gaze to me with a depraved smile. “Restrain her, so she can watch as I drain every bit of life from him. Until she—and everyone else—knows I hold power overallthings. Including death.”
I’m ready when Dawson lurches toward me, adrenaline surging through my veins like acid. He lets out a peal of manic laughter, licking his lips as he circles me, as if imagining the many ways I can hurt.
Behind him, the Aeternalis pulls a knife from one of his weapon belts. He prowls toward Niko, relishing in the slowness of his fate, the inevitability of the punishment to be bestowed.
But the Carrion King does not watch Peter. He has eyes only for me, his gaze locking with mine over his brother’s shoulder. A desperate plea—not to escape, but tostay.And though he cannot speak, his lips form two unspoken words:trust me.
With dreaded horror, I understand what he asks of me.
Trust him enough to lay down my weapons. Trust him enough to stay still. Trust, that no matter what happens in this realm or the next, that we will always find our way back to each other.
And I do. Without falter. Without reprieve.
So, though every instinct in my body screams at me to fight, I lower my weapon.
Dawson pounces, wrenching my arms behind my back and dragging my body to his. I force myself still even as he grinds against me—as bile and disgust surge up my throat.
The Aeternalis hauls Niko up by the collar of his shirt, and slams him ruthlessly into the nearest wall. Blood gurgles from Niko’s mouth along with a guttural groan of pain. His head lolls and his body jerks, as Pan drags the blade from his sternum to his belly.
An imitation of the wound Niko once gave him.
A scream of horror and fury tangles in my throat, as the tip of the sword sticks into the bone of Niko’s sternum.
But my king does not cry out, even as the blade rings against his bone.
