I grab Odgar’s hand, squeezing it hard. His sunburst, golden-blue eyes focus frantically on me.
“Don’t try to save me,” I tell him. He clings to my hand, a protest on his lips, but I pull away and race toward the front of the ship. Breathing in deeply, I reach for all my pent-up magic and rampant emotions. My hands grow blazing hot as I nock an arrow into my bow and call to my powers. As I allow that dark voice within me to unleash herself, to funnel directly into me. I send a flaming arrow forth and reach for another as Enidwen’s voice booms in my head: Youare the weapon! Let me in!
Enidwen’s power purrs like a housecat, then roars like a dragon. It blasts through the wall between our minds and fills me to the brim with more exuberant vigor than I know what todo with. I drop the bow and channel the power into my hands, crossing them over my chest before thrusting them outward with a bellow of rage and pain.Orange and black flames fill my vision. Screams assault my ears. I inhale and repeat the motion. Again. And again.
The world around me slows and blurs. I’m nothing but flame and shadow and power.
I burn and burn and burn, until I feel myself burning out.
Until the cries around me die down to whimpers, and the clattering of weapons ceases.
My body feels like a raw conflagration instead of flesh and bones.
At last, my flames flicker out. A distorted voice calls to me, and that power within me winks out in a heartbeat. I drop, but I feel no pain.
I’m overheated.
Perhaps for the last time.
Flames. Pain. Fear. Annoyance. Darkness.
I wake repeatedly, only to fall back under. My body is buoyant, drifting between awareness and oblivion, and I long for the awareness to stop returning. I long to feel nothing. I hope to have saved my friends from a terrible fate, and I don’t want to know if I’ve failed.
I hope they sail to Siad Nahar and meet up with Durvla and the others. That they help putheron the throne rather than me.
I hope they save the kingdom.
That Odgar finds true love in someone who can actually grasp the concept.
Perhaps Briony will help raise a magical army to war against the same people she once fought for.
Perhaps everyone will find redemption.
It’s too late for me.
My time is over. And with it, Enidwen’s reign is at an end. There will be no heir. No continuation of her tainted bloodline.
No more curse of embers.
Chapter 67
Every timeI resurface from the stupor of pain and nausea, invisible hands pull me back under. My body is heavy and buoyant, aching and numb. Heat covers my skin, burning my eyes. Within my bubble of silence, I’m unaware of anything happening around me. I’m tugged from one place to another, rough hands on me, then soft. Cool. Then hot. Damp. Then Dry.
I’m standing on the bow of a ship, looking out over blue-green waters. The air is crisp; I’m in my summer cloak.
“Durvla?” a voice calls.
I spin to find Carys leaning against the mast, regarding me with confusion.
The sight almost makes me laugh because the first time I’d dreamwalked to her after leaving Paramount, I’d been the one at the mast with her gazing off into the ocean. Had she been contemplating death then? Or had she been contemplating life? Freedom?
A land beyond this one.
Could Sunlagh really take me to the land beyond the Veil like it’s sung in the songs?
“Gods, you look awful,” says Carys.
I press my hands against my face. Wherever my body lies now, it’s burning with fever. I can feel the sweat gathering on my skin each time I’m strong enough to temporarily resurface. Or perhaps it isn’tmybody I’m feeling.
