“I need to do it, Remo. For Iba. And for me.” I got up. “Can you hold him? I’ll be right back.”
My legs felt made of wires and steel instead of cells and bone, moving of their own accord toward the glittery pool. Once I reached the water, I pressed my fingertips against my palm and crafted a watering can, then filled it to the brim.
Robotically, I returned to Remo and straddled my uncle, locking his arms under my shins. “Can you lift his head?”
Remo grabbed the back of Kingston’s head, drove his blood-coated thumbs into my uncle’s mandible, then chucked the piece of apple inside his mouth. I jammed the spout between the hateful fae’s teeth, then Remo clapped Kingston’s chin shut and shoved his head farther up.
Kingston’s eyes, which had closed when he’d passed out, bulged open. I poured and poured, and although water dribbled down the sides of his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbed, which told me he was swallowing. But was it only water going down, or had the apple breached his throat?
His chest spasmed, but he stayed solid beneath me.
I kept pouring, draining the can, waiting, tears running down my cheeks, replacing the sight of Kingston’s terrified eyes with flashes of Iba’s body, limp, sinking through the lavender sky. With the smoke billowing out of the guards who’d survived the assault and the hill of ashes from the ones who’d given their lives so my father could rule another day.
I saw my mother, treading the Pink Sea beside me, the shine draining from her copper scales.
I saw my cousins laying down the oars of their canoe, faces turned heavenward, staring.
That day was the first time I understood that magic did not make us immortal.
For the past four years, I’d tried to keep the memories at bay, pushing them away as soon as one poked to the surface, but as I upended the can, I allowed them in.
Iwelcomedthem in.
40
Goodbyes
Astillness settled over me as I set the empty watering can down beside my bent knee. Cool sweat beaded down my spine, but I didn’t shiver. Remo’s mouth spilled words, but none reached me.
Kingston was still alive, but he wouldn’t stay alive. If the water failed its purpose, I’d find another way to execute the executioner. I was driven by a single thought: vengeance. It had steadied my arms and honed my focus.
His lashes fluttered and then his chest gave a violent shudder. He stared at me. I searched for repentance inside his eyes but found only terror.
I hated what he’d turned me into, but I hatedhimmore.
So when his flesh finally turned as leaden as the cliffs choking the valley, I didn’t gasp.
And when he exploded, I didn’t flinch.
I sank through his dissolved body and into the ashen sand, completely and utterly numb.
I didn’t feel Remo’s hands cradling my face, skimming down my neck, going around me. I didn’t hear what he was saying, just saw the edges of his words on his lips. He kneeled before me, crushing Kingston’s remains under his legs, and pressed me into his chest.
The sharp beats of his heart finally brought me back.
I smelled the salt and steel of his fight.
I heard his tongue stroking my name, not the one he’d given me, but the one my parents had.
His callouses scraped my spine, and his breaths warmed my skin.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” My tone was emotionless, the dam I’d erected still holding.
Remo pressed me away. “I’m going to go check.”
“Check?”
“Turn around.”
