My voice is a whisper. “You cursed Eli. You made him feel invisiblehis whole life. You made people mistrust and fear him.” I ground myself, lifting my head and locking my eyes with Zandrite’s. “You made himaskfor hate.”
My heart shatters. Bloody shards pierce my lungs. I don’t have to tell the roots what to do. They simply know, tightening until Zandrite’s face blooms purple. Until his eyes bulge, and his lips turn blue.
“Wait, stop!” Kelter rushes forward and tries to loosen the roots from his father’s neck. He looks over his shoulder, rays of despair shooting straight into me.
What am I doing? I can’t kill his father. I can’t choose if he lives or dies. I can’t choose for Calderans either. Or Half Links. I can only free them from their mental prison, the illusion they live in—and let them feel. Because I’m not like Zandrite or my mother, preventing any chance of happiness and love and hope along with the numbing of pain. We’re meant to feel it all, the good and the bad. The in-between. The gray.
I release the roots wrapped around Zandrite’s throat, grimacing at the endless throb in my leg, the pain stronger as the magic dulling it wears off.
“No! Don’t let them go!” Atom slides out of the hatch onto the boneless bodies below and hurries to a stand. But they’re already out of my command.
“How did you get out of the collection suite?” Zandrite asks.
Atom races toward us, dodging a freed root that swerves his way. I try to stop it, but it dives again, straight for him.
“Stop!” Milo jumps up from Eli’s side and lunges, landing with a wobble in front of Atom. The root strikes, driving them back and back, past the bed and into the wall. Kelter is frozen between Zandrite and me, indecision wracking his face.
“Go check on them,” I tell Kaleida.
“But your bone… it’s—”
“Go.”It’s time.
I call back the rogue roots as she takes off toward the far wall, my arms outstretched, fingers flexed. I focus on making them obey and gathering them close to my chest when they reach me. Then I pull. And pull. Light blasts the room, bouncing off the shiny walls, the roots almost pure white. Magic jets into me. My arms illuminate.
I take more and more, pulling from the farthest corners of the tevafields. Every scraggly root connects to these massive ones. Magic zips along underground pathways of twisted roots, but it’s tainted. Blackness swims in the tiny veins of the plants, darkening the magic. The white light turns to a gray glow.
Zandrite’s golden skin loses its color. His muscles waste before my eyes, his skin loosening, sagging. “No, my Teva! Don’t hurt her!” he hollers, reaching for the roots.
The more I pull, the worse he looks, as if sucking dry the source of his borrowed time piles millennia back onto his mortal body. He’s too ancient to scream. Kelter calls out to me. Indistinct words. A muted message that never arrives.
But I can’t stop. Not even if I wanted to. Slick magic coats my bones and seeps into the marrow. The gray layers on shades until all the light is gone. Until a shimmery black is all that’s left. It whirls over my skin, cold and snug. Like Eli’s arms around me. A comfort. My pain pulses in and out, lessened but still intense.
The muscles on Eli’s back flex and spasm. His toes wiggle. He’s coming back.Finally.
I hug the roots tighter, closer. The gush of magic slows to a pulse, the final drops resisting. It’s as though I’m stopping my own heart, squeezing the life from myself. When not a lick of magic remains, and the roots are no more than black matter and lifeless plant tissue, I deliver one final, focused twist of my mind. They disintegrate, leaving only a puff of purple powder behind. And the scent of clover.
It takes a long time to clear, but when it does, every root is gone. The floor is dusted purple. I expect Zandrite to be standing there, fierce and snarling, ready to attack. Instead, Kelter pulls away with a bloody knife. The heavy thud of Zandrite’s knees colliding with the ground and his sputtering groan set me at ease. The ooze of blood calms my galloping heart, but his death holds no beauty. He falls forward, one cheek smacking the marble.
Eli stares at me as ifI’mthe one back from the dead.
My fingers tingle with magic.
And darkness.
Chapter 59
EVER
He’s gone,” I whisper.
Eli crawls to me, stronger and faster with each movement closer as he recovers. His curls swish perfectly over his forehead, though the rest of him is smeared in red and black blood. He reaches for me, stopping short at the sight of my leg, the way my arm hangs from the socket. “Ah fuck.”
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “Missed you too, asshole.”
“Look at you.” He brushes his thumb over the bruises Kelter left. “A total fucking mess, just how I like you.”
The start of a painful laugh breaks free with the tease in my tone. “You like me?”
