Score!
But where was Kalinda?
A glowing sheet of paper rested on Kalinda’s destroyed desk, and Silva wanted to burn it to cinders. She knew without even reading what it said; it was from the Unseelie Fae.
Fucking bloodsuckers.
No, really. Daywalkers came from the Unseelie as mages came from the Seelie. It was a little-known fact—one Silva wouldn’t be sharing with anyone. While she let the Lombardi in on a bit of Fae lore, some of the information was secret for a reason.
If daywalkers realized their gift was from the Fae and there were other applications of their feeding gift—as the Unseelie did already—things would go to shit.
One of them being the slip of parchment resting on Kalinda’s desk. It was a way to sap Fae energy from another to ensure the information was seared in the intended’s brain before it disintegrated. It was a rather nice way to also kill one, if set with a trap.
Silva had no doubt the parchment set out by Kieran would both feed from her and fuck her world up, especially how weak she was.
“Then that’s the last resort.”
But searching the room as painstakingly slow as she could move without puking turned up nothing. Of course, she already knew that. She sighed and approached the glowing paper.
“He’s so fucking dead. I swear by The Fates.”
The Fates gave no sign they’d heard her, and she wasn’t so sure those mythical controllers of time still favored the Fae anymore, but she prayed anyway. The document was blank as her hands hovered over it, and she bit her lip.
“You’re really going to make me touch this.”
The last thing she remembered was enough fire to sap all the oxygen out the room, and Kalinda’s screams melding with her own. She had no doubt Kieran wanted something from Silva, and that’s the only reason Kalinda was still alive—for now.
“Can’t get shit from me if I’m dead though.”
It wasn’t a comfort, but she had to make herself believe. Had to trust she wouldn’t face the end and leave the Lombardi without Kalinda.
As much as she picked at the wolves, they’d become family in a short time. Watching Zoey and Kalinda with their mates, the way the pack was together as one unit, was so different than her court.
That was paved with blood and intrigue, like any other place, but the ones most ready to stab you in the back were family. Whole houses rose and fell for the chance to gain power. Silva had been … no different.
She sucked in a breath, not wanting to think of everything she’d lost.
The sister she’d never see again.
Silva had been stupid … so stupid, and time in the human world without memories made the hurt brand-new.
To escape the emotional pain of her memories, she grasped the zethper—finally calling it by name.
Cold spread through her, rolling over her flesh and leaving numbness behind. It was better than the pain, better than struggling for air. But as it reached her diaphragm, she realized she spoke too soon. It wasn’t numbing; it was paralyzing!
She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs wouldn’t inflate, and she crumpled to the ground.
Come to Scorched Earth, where I have your ward. But come soon, and alone. She won’t survive if you don’t.
The power of the zethper kept her bound, winding around her windpipe and seizing until she flopped on the floor, a fish out of water. Every cell inside her strained for oxygen, to live. The urge to claw at her throat, at the invisible hand holding her in a vise grip battered at her brain, but she couldn’t fucking move.
It’s a sick feeling when the head is there, the soul is screaming, but the body slowly fades away.
Live, Silva. For Kalinda.
Suddenly, the lights faded, the world shrank, and she was hovering above herself.
You look like shit, Silva. Total shit.
