A croaking subsong dragged at his attention, and he squinted into the weeping sky. Raska hunched on a thatched roof, watching him with hungry eyes. He tensed, waiting for her to swoop down and snatch him away, but she fluttered her wings and remained where she was. She would come for him when he was dead. Of this, he was certain.
For the first time, he considered letting Raska take him. Perhaps his mother would revive him. If she did, he’d escaped once before ...
He pushed the idea aside. The hope that returning to his mother—to Ashkendor—would save him was delusional. He wouldn’t be able to find Valenna again, and he’d be a pawn. Better to let nature have its way with him.
Somehow, they reached the inn, and Valenna helped him upstairs and to the bed. He collapsed onto it. The room, obscured behind a reddish haze, wheeled like he was on a ship in a storm. The ground beneath his feet felt liquid. He wanted to vomit, but he didn’t have the strength. Lights popped in his vision.
He ground his teeth and pressed his head into the pillow. He was not going to die like this. Not today.
Valenna blurred over him, her face sliding in and out of focus. He had to get her out of the room before the darkness dragged him down. He didn’t want her to watch him die; better for her to return to his body still and peaceful than to endure his last throes.
She was speaking to him, and he heard the words, but it was as though his brain had forgotten how to interpret language.
“Can you close the windows?” he slurred.
Her footsteps sounded on the floor, and the room darkened. This helped the pain, which was immense now. It racked, but it was stable—no longer mounting.
He sank downward. He tested the dark to see if it was death or sleep, and found he could wake up if he tried. It was just sleep.
“Vander.” He understood her now, barely. “Don’t fall asleep. Please, stay with me.”
He felt her hand in his, a cool cloth on his forehead.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m just … just resting a moment.”
“No, you need to stay awake. Please, for me. Stay for me.”
He wanted to stay. Oh, he so deeply wanted to stay, but this time, he couldn’t escape. This time, he would have to look the obstacle in the face. He could not slide around it like oil or slip through it like sand. But he was going to fight all the way down.
Chapter thirty-six
Valenna
Valenna paced, her feet pounding on the wood floor, her gaze fixed on Evander while he slept. Something inside his head was bleeding, and she kept having to replace the towel on his pillow as it absorbed blood.
How long did he have? Yes, he might wake up from this, but then what? Would he know her? Would he linger in agony until the end came? And could she stand by and watch, knowing there was a solution staring her in the face, but she’d been too much of a coward to meet its eyes?
Valenna felt like she was in a burning house, and she could only escape with one precious thing. Evander or her conscience? She’d lose one today; she had to choose.
The scar on her wrist stung. Breathless, Valenna stopped pacing and stared across the room at Evander, whose face was growing grayer with every hour she delayed. Outside the window, the sunlight had given way to darkness, and something inside Valenna knew that Evander wouldn’t last the night. If she didn’t move now, she would lose her chance.
I have no future but you.
Without even grabbing a coat, Valenna ran out of the room, leaving the door unlocked behind her. She rushed down the stairs, out of the inn, and through the wet streets.
The rain fell in torrents, and lightning cracked the iron sky. Valenna was soaked by the time she found Ariadne. The governor stood on the lakeshore with Samara, who was saddling a little red dragon. Valenna sprinted to them, breathless. Her wet hair hung in her face, and her skirt slapped her ankles. She was shivering and gaunt, her eyes wild.
“Did you put your son up to it?” she shouted when she was still ten paces away.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ariadne said, blank-faced.
“Lysander bought the last of the wyvern bone powder and poured it into the street. It’s gone, and Evander is dying.”
Samara gasped, and Ariadne raised her eyebrows.
“Well, Lysander is angry with Trevelyan. He was humiliated …”
“Evander is dying!” Valenna cried, jerking toward Ariadne. She didn’t know what she meant to do—strangle her? Shake her? But Ariadne backed away, looking wary.
