If we have mere seconds left, then I want to die with her taste on my tongue, with her blood smeared against my fangs, with my name the last sound her lips will ever utter.
I grab a fistful of her hair harshly, and just as I’m about to sink my canines into her sweet neck for one last time, she half moans, half cries.
“Killian, look.”
I follow her gaze to the halted walls, both glowing in veins of gleaming scarlet, the rivulets becoming one inside the ominous encryption.
With a loud groan, the walls recede to their initial position, just as an archway appears out of thin air in front of us.
A sigh of relief so harsh escapes my lips, it resounds in the once again quiescent chamber.
I cling to her in desperation, not wanting to acknowledge that for a second there, we were goners.
I almost lost her.
Lost myself.
Aimee’s shoulders shake soundlessly, and her tears soak my shirt. I brush my thumb under her eyes, gathering the moisture and licking my finger clean. She blinks her tears away, gazing at me from under damp eyelashes.
“I was useless,” she says in a broken voice.
“No, umbra, you figured out the answer,” I try to reach for her, but she pushes off me, squaring her shoulders.
“I almost got us killed.” Her voice bleeds with a quiet determination. “I will do better, Killian. I have to. Too many people depend on us.”
She presses forward, disappearing under the archway.
I follow in her footsteps, a visceral feeling settling deep inside my soul.
I will accompany her to the ends of this realm if need be.
She is stronger than she realizes. She might think she failed, but she saved us.
Her fear of death is not a weakness; it’s an instinct sharpened like a blade. It’s what makes her unbreakable, even if she doesn’t yet realize it.
As for me, death never bothered me in the least. A mere byproduct of living for one thousand years.
It’s the fear of continuing my existence without her that unravels me.
A world barren of her is a world not worth saving.
Chapter 20
Blaise
Ipacethelengthofthe dining hall, tugging at the ends of my braids in nervous anticipation.
I’ve sent word with Nella that I’m waiting for Sariah to dine with me, under the pretense of discussing the ever-growing number of Dark Umbras arriving in Drovillan and the logistics behind housing hundreds of new Fae every day. But in reality, all I’m hoping is to get a quiet moment alone with her—maybe even a chance to prove I’m not the impervious rake she believes I am, not anymore at least.
As the minutes go by, turning into hours, and the hands of the wall clock mock me as they keep moving with no regard to my growing agitation, I resign myself to one glaring fact.
She’s not coming.
I pull out from my tunic’s pocket the thin rolling parchment and the pouch of tobacco I always carry around, although I rarely indulge in such a vice. On occasion, I have enjoyed a smoke, usually after a good lay.
But tonight, I need it to calm my nerves more than anything else.
I roll the tobacco in the small paper, wet my lips and lick a line on the paper’s end to close it off, then use the nearest candlestick to light it up.
