Barlowe speaks, his voice barely a whisper through the blood filling his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Barlowe! Keep them open and on me!” I cry, “Please don’t waste energy trying to speak.”
“I need to tell you something. I wasn’t there for you after our mother died. It broke me when she passed, and I ran away from the hurt, from you.” He coughs, blood peppering my face. “I was a coward, but I’ve been fighting since that day to make things right.” His unsteady hand grabs my face. “I love you and need you to fight for yourself. You are strong—stronger than I ever have been.”
Tears stream down my face, as I listen to my brother’s strong voice start to fade. “Tell Maines she wouldn’t have been able to save me or stop this from happening. I wish I had more time with her, but I will wait for her in another life.”
“Stop this madness. Right now. You are going to make it. You can’t leave me again!” His grip starts to slacken, and his rough hands fall to the ground. “Focus on my face. Don’t shut your eyes. Don’t you dare close them, Barlowe! Don’t leave me!”
The ground vibrates from my scream. “I need you.”
Maines shifts into view—breaking my attention from him for only a second—carrying a few vials of potions. Seeing my state, she gasps, “My bag!” Sprinting in our direction she continues, “Someone moved or took it. I couldn’t find any of my things where I left them.”
She crashes to the ground next to us, assessing his fragile state, “Oh, Gods.”
“Barlowe, I need you to fight. Open your eyes!” I scream, inches from his pale face.
Maines frantically moves her hands over him, black shadows slamming into his unconscious body. His back arches off the ground from the force of the magic entering his body.
“Fuck!” She pounds her fists into his strong chest. “Briar, I can’t do anything for him. Not without help.”
I begin to sob as I watch the color drain from his strong face, his hands growing colder by the second. “I can go get someone, Maines. We have time.”
Tears fill my eyes, my vision blurring through the sobs.
“No, don’t go,” she cries, pressing her head against his chest, clutching his blood-stained shirt. My eyes widen as she lifts her face, ghostly pale against her dark hair. Her lips tremble as her body starts to shake, still holding Barlowe’s hand. “I just felt his heart stop, Briar. He’s gone.”
I stare at my brother’s lifeless body, refusing to accept what Maines has said. Just like in my nightmares, Barlowe lies before me with a wound on his neck.
An unholy scream leaves my lips as I crumble to the ground beside him. Darkness bubbles in my body as the anger hits me with a force so strong I’m left breathless. Maines pulls my arm, standing before me. “We must get up, Briar! If anyone comes out here and sees us, your father will have us killed.”
She stumbles backward as our gaze meets, and I know what she sees—I feel the shift.
My hazel eyes are gone and replaced with an unnatural black. I walk a few paces away, letting the darkness build in my chest for the first time in years. I can feel the wind shift around us as a black flame encases me like a tight hug from an old friend. The overwhelming feeling of my repressed magic flowing through my veins leaves my body tingling as I look at my hands, shadows dancing in my blood-soaked palms.
I stare back at Maines, her mouth agape, and I know two things with absolute certainty: the old Briar Blackbyrne is gone, and my brother lies before me.
Dead.
Chapter 9
The next three days are a blur, filled with rage and exhaustion that cripples me every time I open my eyes. Thatcher killed my brother, likely on my father's orders. The King of Daramveer announced what he claimed was an unfortunate incident—a lie that led the town to believe someone had shifted into the castle grounds. Someone killed Barlowe in cold blood, sending a message to the royal family.
Thatcher kept a casual calm about himself as the castle buzzed with panic that the murderer was still out there, waiting to strike—he never realized Maines and I hid in the shadows. Maines has kept busy, studying the blade we pulled from his throat. She confirmed it was a poison, but not anything she’d seen before. Her inability to save him left her broken, and we’ve done an excellent job of avoiding speaking about what happened over the past few days.
Maines has searched through papers, books, and scrolls, seeking anything that might guide her in the right direction—all with no luck so far. The men vying for my hand in marriage will arrive tomorrow, and even though the castle is in a state of panic, the town still buzzes with excitement. The names of thecompetitors haven’t been disclosed—the mystery maintaining high anticipation.
I feel numb, shattered, and have somehow swallowed my magic once again.
Barlowe said I was strong, but he was mistaken. I feel weak—too afraid to unleash that part of myself just yet. That’s something I’ll reserve for Thatcher. I don’t care if he gets hurt. Keeping it caged for the past five years has given me some sort of stamina to lock it back up once more. The intensity of my magic trying to escape pounds on my head like an animal trapped, desperate to break free.
My bedroom feels like a cage with guards posted outside day and night—keeping tabs on me and monitoring my every move. I move from my bed, shuffling to the sitting area near the roaring fire, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. I haven’t had a nightmare since my brother died, which is the only thing keeping me going now. When I sleep, all I find is dark, nothingness, and a silence that is louder than the screams I once heard in my dreams.
Maines enters my room, purple bags weighing down her eyes and her perfect hair a tangled mess. She flinches when she meets my gaze, anticipating that my dark eyes will pierce her soul like they did the night my brother died. “Can we talk about what happened?” she asks as she plops down in the chair beside me. I know she hasn’t come to terms with what happened, and neither have I. “Someone needs to know the truth. We can’t let my brother get away with this,” she insists.
“No,” I say, defeat lacing my tone.
“You won’t even entertain the idea? I can’t eat. I can’t sleep knowing my family is capable of this, Briar.”
