Page 7

Five

Pain blared in my ribs. My eyes jerked open, tearing up at the bright light streaming through my cell. Agony bloomed in my temples.

Liaza loomed over me, smiling. He retracted his foot and crouched down to peer at my dirty face. “There you are. Thought we lost you for a moment. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

I tried to swallow and winced. The motion felt like swallowing razor blades.

Liaza’s eyes narrowed. “No witty comeback? Surely, we haven’t broken the all-powerful Moira already.”

Expending the energy to give him the middle finger felt like too much effort. I closed my eyes and turned my face to soak up the cool stone floor, almost sighing as the cold eased the burning inside my body.

Fever. I had a fever. A bad one if how I felt was any indicator of severity. Everything hurt, and I was hot, sweat beading against the back of my neck.

Cool fingers touched my forehead. Liaza let out a low, vicious curse. “Minka!” he barked.

Footsteps shuffled closer. “I haven’t made my tea yet. What is it now?”

“Fever,” Liaza said. “Moira is dying.”

Mom snorted. “She’s a vampire. They don’t die.”

Those fingers touched me again. “We both know Moira is far more than a vampire. Come inside and see for yourself.”

I almost smiled at her hesitation, but I couldn’t muster the energy to do anything other than lie there.

The cell door squeaked open.

This should be my time. Liaza was close enough for me to strike, and if I were very lucky, I could take her out too.

My fingers flexed, but I had no strength. All I wanted was to strip my clothing off and lie down on the cool stone floor and let the winds take me far away from here.

Mom toed me with her foot. “Stop pretending, Moira. I don’t know where you got the heat from, but if you don’t open your eyes, I’ll make your next session twice as bad.”

Consciousness drifted away from me, and I didn’t want it badly enough to fight for it.

“Drink,” a voice said.

Liquid dribbled down my chin, the bright, crisp taste of herbs exploding in my mouth. I’d had this concoction before—in my youth, when my mother had gone too far.

I gagged. A sharp sting across my cheek drew warmth. Blood. A slap, easier than the ones she normally gave.

“Swallow it,” Mom snapped.

“Let me die,” I croaked.

Strong, thin fingers gripped my chin. “Now, why would I do that?” she crooned.

I turned my head away from the herbal concoction she was trying to force down my throat.

“Liaza,” she snapped. “Hold her.”

Tears dripped down my nose.

Find me. Find me. Find me, I screamed inside my head.

I had no idea how long I’d slept, but from the way my stomach growled, it might have been days. My splitting headache was down to a dull throb, and I could move with much less pain.

A hoarse chuckle escaped me. I bet it killed my mother to have to put in even an ounce of effort to help me. The house was silent, but the fireplace crackled.