Page 120 of Blood Fist
The tea she created smelled musty, but Jonen took it without complaint and slowly spooned it into Corric’s mouth, encouraging him with soft croons to swallow. Iylah stayed until he was done and then left to oversee her other patients, giving them strict instructions to keep Corric warm and to find her if anything changed.
Jonen dutifully massaged Corric’s limbs while they waited. The tent became unbearably stuffy, but they didn’t dare let the hearth die down. Ridan paced, occasionally looking up to demand answers they had no way of knowing before going back to his pacing. Despite the heat, he kept Brune’s cloak on, burying his nose to inhale the alpha’s scent.
Time seemed to fade away as they sat in the hot tent. Waiting. Their eyes trained on Corric to pick up any minute movement. In a way, it was exhausting. Lingering on a thread of hope, hearts slamming into their chest at the barest hint of improvement, only to settle with the bitter taste of despair when it was only wishful thinking.
Close to midnight, Schok and Buzzard appeared.Who told them, Brune didn’t know. But one moment the tent was still and the next the magic user and Harpy were walking in with hoods pulled high. Ridan nearly hissed at the intrusion, hand moving to his sword as the strangers drew closer to his nest. Even when they dropped their hoods and he recognized him, there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
Schok didn’t say a word, he just stared down at his little brother. Buzzard’s wings fluttered behind him.
“He smells like magic,” Buzzard said after a moment, glancing up at Schok.
The eldest Tylock’s lips were set in a thin line, the skin around his eyes tight. “He smells like Sinestrus.”
Jonen bared his teeth at Schok’s words. “How do you know?”
Schok ignored him, kneeling beside Corric. With a solemn face, he reached out and pushed some of his hair from his eyes before laying his palm over Corric’s heart. He pressed until his fingers splayed out. Small flames licked around his knuckles. Jonen growled, his scent spiking, but the older alpha wasn’t cowed. Corric’s skin remained unburned, only pinking a little.
With a start, Corric opened his eyes. His hand jerked up, nearly smacking Jonen in the face. His chest heaved as he looked around the room, wild eyed with a scent that stank of fear.
“Corric?” Jonen asked tentatively.
The omega blinked, fingers curling into fists before his lips wobbled. Swallowing thickly, he closed his eyes against the fat tears that started to spill.
“I saw him,” he croaked, voice strained and so low they had to lean forward to hear. Ridan stepped close enough he could scent Corric, rubbing his wrist down his back and across his arms.
Corric shuddered. His muscles trembled as he looked at Ridan, held in place only by Jonen’s strength.
“I saw it. He’s been waiting, Ridan. Since the fall of Artrax he’s been…he’s been planning. Putting things in motion. I was…he used me.”
“Corric, stop. It’s?—”
“No!” he screamed, voice cracking. “Ifreed him.I was—from the beginning! I was always meant for this. I thought I escaped, but it was all…” he trailed off with a sob, head falling. “You have to kill me.”
Jonen gasped, his eyes narrowing at Ridan as he pulled Corric closer to him. Buried in the alpha’s arms, Corric tried to pull away, but Jonen held firm.
“I freed him! It was all me! I failed the clan. I put everyone in danger again! I don’t deserve to live.” His eyes were shiny, misery and guilt painted across his pale face.
The tension in the tent was unbearable. Between Jonen’s growling and Corric’s pleading, it was hard to know where to look. Ridan was still, staring at Corric with an unreadable look on his face.
“Jonen, you bare your fangs at me one more time and I’m going to choke you with your own knot,” he finally snapped. The alpha closed his mouth with a click.
“And Corric, your self sacrificial tendencies are becoming tiresome.”
Struggling against Jonen, Corric tried to grab for Ridan. Tears slipped down his angular cheeks. “Don’t you understand?”
Ice was beginning to form on Corric’s arms again, spreading around the tent beneath him. “My mother knew! She knew he would use me, so she tried to hide my magical abilities away. Sealed it so far inside me I didn’t even know it was there!” His breath fogged fromthe cold. “But even that wasn’t enough. He still found me! It was all his plan! He made Schok a thrall so he could find me and then…I broke the scale…I…” he trailed off, the magnitude of what he’d done sinking in.
Ridan didn’t answer, too busy staring at the ice growing around him. He touched it tentatively, hissing at the cold.
“Now you understand.” Schok’s voice cut through the tent, colder than Corric’s ice. He lowered a hand to melt the ice Corric was creating, leaving behind a puddle. “You’re a true Tylock, after all.”
Corric stared at his brother, his face flickering between horror and despair. The words were cruel, but they were spoken with an air of resignation rather than malice. A conversation fizzled between the brothers, an unspoken understanding that Brune didn’t think he’d. understand, even if he heard it.
If Brune thought Schok was going to comfort Corric, he was sorely mistaken. The older Tylock simply busied himself with melting the ice, letting his brother wallow in his misery. It was hard to look at and even harder to understand.
Sinestrus had manipulated them all. Even locked away, he played a game of such strategy and length it spanned generations. Was any of Krait Tylock’s decisions his own? Or was he just as much a pawn as his sons? Niklas had once told Brune that the Tylock family was the oldest family of magic users—it made sense that Sinestrus would use them to his advantage.
He had them all right where he wanted them. Sinestrus used Schok, knowing that Corric would do anything to save his brother. They thought Halm had sent Corric into the thrallscape with Buzzard’s magic, but had he? Or was it Corric’s own abilities, latent andlethargic but willing, sparking to life like a flare in the night? Luring Sinestrus right to him.