My ears buzz.
My fingers shake.
Quinn falls to her knees in front of Reeve.
“Oh my God!” She palms her lover’s neck as though to stop the blood from exiting his body. But it rushes out untilthe puddle beneath him grows as thick and viscous as the one spreading beneath my inert genitor. “Electra, save him!”
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“You’re an Atlantean!”
“We can’t bring the dead— We can’t…”
“I heard you could.”
I shake my head, setting the tears clinging to my lash line free. “Only Tarian, but…”But only if the person still has blood in his body.
The reminder snaps me from my daze. I replace Quinn’s fingers with my soiled, trembling ones and call on my magic to repair Reeve’s flesh.
May he still have blood in his body.
May his gushing artery not have stolen all of it.
“Stay with us, Reeve,” Quinn croaks, tears tripping down her puffing cheeks.
I can’t bring myself to tell her that he can’t stay with us, because his heart no longer beats.
Once I feel that his skin has mended, I sit back on my heels and study his listing face. I gently remove his glasses and lower his lids, loath to stare into his sightless eyes.
“What are you doing?” Quinn demands, her tone raw.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur—to her, to him.
I feel the weight of her gaze. How I wish I could feel the weight of his.
I stand, fold the branches of his glasses, holding them out to her. When she doesn’t take them, I slide them into my pocket, next to the knife.
“Where are you going?” Quinn shrills.
“I need to check on Mal and Dorian.” I pivot to leave.
“No!” Quinn grabs onto my ankle. “Stay. Bring him back.”
“I can’t bring back the dead.”
“You just healed him! He’s not dead.”
My lashes lower in shame. I don’t dare say, “For now, he is,” because it feels cruel to give Quinn hope that Tarian can reverse Reeve’s fate.
I’m about to shrug her off and stalk out, but instead, I crouch and dig through Gael’s pockets until I come up with his phone. His screen is full of missed calls—six of those originating from Calanthe.
I press on her number, hoping the phone won’t prompt me for a passcode. It doesn’t.
“Fucking hell, Gael. It’s about time someone calls us back!” she screeches. “What the hell’s happening?”
“Callie, it’s me.”
“Elle?”
