She was not doubled over or screaming or clawing out of her skin. She simply stood, obedient.
Kol smiled then nodded at Gabriel.
With a sickening wrench, the shadows pulled her forward.
She crossed the space before the dais, her steps not her own. Her body was not hers as it stopped in front of Gabriel. It was not her eyes who gazed down at his, still wide with terror, but also carrying a shattering acceptance for his fate.
Not her eyes, but she saw it all just the same.
Saw it all as her hand lifted; as her fire—those beautiful, pure, scorching flames—were pulled from their home beneath her ribs; as her burning hand was placed on Gabriel’s and the parasite controlling her urged them to consume his smooth, unmarred skin.
Her body didn’t obey her, but those flames certainly did Kol’s bidding.
Golden fire licked and crawled over Gabriel’s arm. A putrid stench filled the great hall, the sickly odor of burning flesh.
The cry that wrenched from Gabriel’s mouth was the worst of all.
A bitter, aching, terrible wail. A mournful cry of pure and unadulterated pain, of knowing you’ve been betrayed by the very element living within you.
Why was it the things we loved that always hurt the most?
The flames ate and ate and ate. Gabriel’s left arm and shoulder and face were now consumed. He fought and thrashed on the marble, begging—pleading—for mercy. For her to put out the flames. For her to stop the pain.
Pleading with Anniliese. Not Kol.
Her.
When Gabriel’s screams grew hoarse, Kol finally sighed. “That’s enough.”
It all stopped.
Not just the flames. The shadows in Anniliese’s veins, too, the dark presence that had settled into her mind. All of it vanished, withdrawing as if it had never been, leaving her empty and full and broken and violated all at once.
Anniliese sank to her knees, gasping for breath as tears streamed down her face. A few feet away, Gabriel lay curled on his side, whimpering softly as smoke drifted from his mottled, brutalized skin.
Kol clapped his hands. “Remember the warning. I will not have my will ignored again.”
The crowd dispersed from the great hall, many gagging against the smell of burnt flesh and tripping over each other to reach the safety of fresh air. Kol and Ksee exited without so much as a backward glance at the two figures still lying on the floor.
A group of priestesses moved out from the shadows to pick up Gabriel, draping his body between them and carrying him from the hall. Save for the shuffles and soft, pained moans, it was a silent affair.
Anniliese remained.
She stayed there, on that cool marble floor, until the sun set and the moons rose in the sky. Their light was foreign and judgmental, scratching at skin that no longer felt like hers.
One of those goddesses had given her this magic. This gift of flame.
This gift ofpain.
Anniliese would never forget the sound of Gabriel’s screams.
Chapter 34
The land slowly morphed from marshes to jungles.
Their passage through the swampy landscape was slow but steady. Sebastian’s Kreah horse had shied away from the splashing pools at first, but their escort—two quiet rangers from Sunil’s tribe—led them away from the worst of the wetlands. They plodded along a somewhat dry road that wound through the still waters, insects buzzing around their heads.
Sebastian couldn’t understand why people would want to live here, where his clothes and skin felt constantly damp. To each their own, he supposed.
