Page 219 of Lana Pecherczyk

“Hurts.”

“Where?” He scrambled upright, cradling her. She weighed nothing. Had she always been this thin? Her bones pressed against his palms. “Where does it hurt?”

She looked at him,throughhim, and then flopped. Her hair fell over her eyes, but when he lifted her chin, they were closed anyway.

“Blake, wake up.” He gently patted her face.

“Fuck off, Dad,” she groaned. “I fixed the bird feeder yesterday.” She clawed clumsily at his chest, as if it were something else. “S’got glitter in the cracks. Check if you don’t believe me.”

“There’s no one there, Blake.” River’s heart clenched.

The delirium was spreading. He pressed his palm to her forehead, summoned mana, and forced healing magic into her body. For a split second, she woke up, but then the power slid off like oil on water. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Lashes fluttered.

“Sparkles, stay with me.”

But she started to convulse. It took all of River’s willpower not to scream, to act like he had control of his wits. He held her through the fit and protected her from harm as she jerked with a strength he didn’t think possible.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’d never felt so helpless, so insignificant. “What do I do? What do I do?”

He glanced up, searching for help. Saw Cloud clutching the cryptex, his face pale beneath the blood-V, eyes never leaving River’s mate. Reality crashed in.

He’d kidnapped Blake. This was his fault.

“I just need her,” Cloud mumbled, “to restore what’s inside. I just?—”

“She’s dying!” River bellowed, wings snapping wide.

The truth tore a feather loose. They watched it drift between them, black and blue against dancing dust motes. Metal cracked as it warmed in the new sun. Time stretched as it fell, twirled, and finally landed between them.

Another convulsion wracked Blake’s body. Her back arched. She clawed at her throat, at her lips. The sound she made wasn’t human. A gurgling warble, as if she breathed underwater. River held her through it again, his own body shaking from the force.

When it passed, Blake groaned and mumbled about wanting to go home.

“It’s okay, treasure. I’ve got you now. I’m taking you home.”

His purpose clear, he gently rested her against the scraps and rushed to scoop upPeacemaker.

Now that he looked up with enough focus, he noticed more obstacles to freedom were in their way. Thick roots, vines, and foliage wove in and out of the pit’s craggy walls. They choked the grate, hiding much of the blue. He’d thought from the way Blake’s hair sparkled, that more sky was visible. But it was just her being her, caught in a shaft of sunlight.

He channeled his mana into it, feeling it drain from his inner well to virtual depletion. But escape demanded every drop. He blasted power at the grate overhead. Thanks to Trix’s upgrade, it released precisely how and where he intended.

Metal screamed.

Debris rained down. Leaves. Sticks. More sunlight poured through the jagged hole. River sheltered Blake with his wings from falling wreckage. When it settled, he gathered her into his arms.

“No! Not until I open this.” Cloud’s eyes showed white. His fingers scrambled at the cryptex, rotating the keys. “It’s not the codes, I promise. It’s just her hair.” A sharp laugh barked out. “From her fucking brush.”

Holy Well.

Ash was right. Cloud had gone mad.

“Enough.” River’s wings mantled for balance as he stood with Blake in his arms. “Rory is dead, Cloud.”

“I told you?—”

“She’s not coming back! Move on with your life.”

Be happy.