Page 42

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

K heir dug his heels into the carpet, his teeth gritted as the Eversky’s fingers hooked in his hair. No matter how much he fought, he couldn’t stop her dragging him around a corner in the hallway and away from Ark. She’d hammered nails into Ark’s hands, into his feet. Another growl tore its way up Kheir’s throat, his own pain barely registering with the horror of Ark’s injuries so fresh in his mind. He’d seen people killed before, but never something so viscerally cruel. It wasn’t the messy, blunt bloodshed of battle. It was intentional and precise and Kheir was going to be sick.

“Oh, stop growling, I haven’t even started with you yet,” the saint said with a tut, dragging him down a new, equally derelict hallway. “If you want something to growl about, I can arrange that. Actually,” she mused, pausing, “That would teach your little bitch of a mate a lesson. I can feel her, you know? Testing the boundaries of the shields, pushing, always pushing.”

Kheir tried to get to his feet but his legs were like jelly. Fear hit his system like an explosion, overriding his pain until the Eversky slammed her foot down on his chest, knocking his back into cold stone. She seemed to take great pleasure in driving her high heel into his middle, the threat of it clear. But Maia was fighting, and she was fighting hard enough that the saint was pissed off. So Kheir choked out a laugh and said, “I hope she shreds everything you’ve built here.”

She’s fighting, he told himself in an urgent rush as the Eversky adjusted her weight, which means she’s alive, which means you can find her.

The punch of her heel into his chest forced a grunt from his lip but he locked down any more sounds of pain. Even as his eyes burned and wept, even as his nostrils flared with rough, rapid breaths, he refused to make a sound. His lack of reaction earned a little sound of disgust from Karmen before she ripped the heel free. Displeasure creased her nose and upper lip when he locked his jaw and kept the scream trapped.

“A challenge, I see,” she murmured, surprising him by sinking to her knees beside him.

Kheir rolled onto his stomach to crawl, instincts screaming at him to flee, making his skin itch, his hands shake. Unwanted tears fell down his cheek. He’d endured pain before; he could survive this, too. Maia was fighting. If he could find a way to wound the Eversky it would weaken her, and Maia would win her battle with the shields. It had to be the invisible cloak over this place that kept their magic locked down. If Maia could break it, they stood a chance of getting out.

But first, Kheir needed to hurt the Eversky as badly as she’d hurt him.

He got his knees under himself, fingers leaving crimson trails on the floor, the needle driven deeper into his skin. The hole she punched in his chest wept vital blood. He had to concentrate to draw up his power the way the drakes had taught him, but it was hard to focus with a saint literally breathing down his neck. Her rage was palpable. She would kill him for using his flames against her, but he couldn’t let fear weaken him now. He needed nerves of steel, needed bravery more now than ever.

He thought of his sisters, channelled some of their fierceness, and snapped his hand out in front of him. Flames leapt to his fingertips like pools of ink and he pushed it hotter, throwing his hand back to drive that fire at the Eversky.

She was closer than he’d been expecting, so close that she couldn’t escape his magic this time. He felt its impact, felt the hatred sink into her, and he poured his intention into the magic as he’d been instructed. He wanted her to hate the other saints, wanted her to loathe them so badly she’d care more about attacking them than Kheir and his family.

She recoiled, sharp teeth bared—fae teeth, he saw with a little shudder—but instead of running to fight her dark saint allies, she grabbed his shoulders. Knife-sharp nails dug into his skin, into muscle and sinew, until hot blood welled and Kheir couldn’t hold back a cry of pain and surprise. And she pulled. The pain made Kheir’s body lock up, white-hot and obliterating. Vast enough to render him still as his wings unfolded from his back.

Fuck. No. No. He couldn’t have his wings exposed here, not to her. They were a weakness she could use to kill him. Hot pain collided with ice-cold fear at the thought of death. He’d seen it on battlefields, but had never felt it quite so close to his skin before.

“You have some nerve, prince,” Karmen hissed, spittle flecking his skin as she grabbed his right wing while he was frozen, screaming, sobbing. She began to rip it away from his back.

Self-preservation hit all at once, and Kheir’s scream became a roar of defiance and rage. He twisted away, trying to unseat her grip on his fragile wings, but her grip was too secure. Skin and membrane tore. He screamed, louder, ragged. Hot blood deluged down his back, soaking his clothes. He couldn’t see. His vision was white.

“Stop,” he sobbed. “Please.”

“You tried to use that foul, manipulative magic on me,” the Eversky spat, digging in her nails and widening the tear. Kheir’s scream was endless. He might have been begging her for mercy, over and over. “I won’t stop until there’s nothing left of you but a smear of blood.”

“Stop.”

The word rang through the hallway louder than his sobbed pleas. Violent enough that glass shattered and the ground rumbled beneath Kheir. But that stop wasn’t a plea, wasn’t a sob, and it wasn’t his voice. It was a command of pure, cold iron.

The pain seared through every nerve in his wing, and his arms buckled as he tried to lift himself off the floor. But he needed to know, needed to get up, needed to see.

He managed to drag his chin along the floor, to prop his head up, to blink the tears from his eyes long enough to behold the force of nature racing towards him and the saint. He tried to speak her name, but even his tongue hurt.

Maia.