I stop. Clutch my side. Give a sharp nod.
She crouches down and slides the manacles along the blade, sawing back and forth. They snap in half but remain clamped on her wrists. She shrieks in frustration, glances toward the tunnel, then surges to her feet and takes off running.
She stops beside Arlo's unconscious form long enough to grab his bow and arrows. Keeps going.
"Naima!" Margot screams, stumbling after her.
My head swims. I take another step. Another. I crash to my knees.
My chest rattles with each breath. I yank my hand away from the stab wound and try to haul myself up again. That stupid fucking ivory. Poisoning me from the inside.
I reach for the bond.
The protection I placed on her is holding. That lets me breathe a little easier, but it's not enough. Nothing is enough. Through the bond, I feel her confusion.
She's reaching for it. Grasping for a thread she can't name, can't follow. She doesn't know what the bond is. Doesn't know who's on the other end.
An ache settles deep in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut. "Menace," I breathe. "Please."
It’s the last plea I make before darkness crawls in from the edges of my vision and my world tilts sideways. The last thing I feel before the darkness takes me is her heartbeat, faint and frightened, pulsing alongside mine.
I'm coming for you, menace.
I'll make you remember.
Epilogue
The room is beautiful.
That's the first thing I notice when I open my eyes. The way the light falls through gauze curtains, turning everything soft and golden. The ceiling is painted with stars, silver and white against deep blue, and for a moment, I just stare at them. Trying to remember if I've seen them before.
I don't think I have. But I'm not sure.
The bed beneath me is impossibly soft. The sheets smell like lavender and something else, something sharp and green that I almost recognize. When I push myself upright, my body aches in ways I can't explain. My hands are bandaged. There's a tender spot at the base of my throat.
The room is large and bright and filled with beautiful things. A vanity with a silver mirror, fresh flowers in a crystal vase, a wardrobe carved from pale wood. None of it feels familiar. But none of it feelswrong, either.
A man stands at the window wearing a long green robe with gold stitching. He has black hair, and when he turns to look at me, I notice his light brown eyes and warm smile.
“You're awake,” he says, his voice warm. “How do you feel?”
I open my mouth to answer and find I don't know. I feel hollow.
“Confused,” I whisper hoarsely.
“That's to be expected.” He crosses to the bed and sits at the edge, careful to leave space between us. “You've been through an ordeal. Do you remember what happened?”
I try to reach for it and find nothing but fog. Shapes moving in the dark. A roar of sound. Red light. The taste of something metallic on my tongue.
“No.”
“Whatdoyou remember?”
I close my eyes and search for solid ground. Facts. Things I know.
“My name is Ada.” The words come slowly, like pulling thread through a needle. "I'm a healer. I live in … in …” The fog thickens. “Lunaris. I lived in Lunaris.”
“Good.” He sounds pleased. “What else?”
