Page 234 of Lana Pecherczyk

“You happy now?” His voice cracked. “We’re all suffering the same as you! My mate’s dead. Ash is gone. All because you’re chasing ghosts!”

Cloud stilled. His gaze fixed on River’s naked wings, the raw pink skin, the pile of scattered feathers. Something shifted in his expression—recognition. Understanding. Regret.

“I just wanted,” he mumbled, “for her to do the same for me.”

Ada looked up from checking Blake’s pulse, a fire in her eyes. “His wings never grew back because she restored them. River did that himself. It was a mental block.”

“What would you know!” he snarled. “You couldn’t even heal her from a fever!”

Cloud’s face crumpled. “So she can’t bring back what’s been lost?”

“She’s fuckingdead!” River grabbed Cloud by the collar and hauled him close. “She’s gone! I said I love you, and she just?—”

His words choked off. He couldn’t finish.

Aeron approached, the baby swaddled in his arms. He looked at Blake, frowned, then faced Ada, his eyes widening.

“She had a fever?” he asked gruffly. Cleared his throat. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah.” Ada pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“Manabeeze.”

“What?” She lowered her hands.

“Where are her manabeeze?” Aeron gave a pointed look around the empty air in the room. “If she died, she’d have?—”

“She doesn’t have manabeeze.” River shoved off Cloud and braced Blake’s bed. He bent his head low, studying the feathered floor, and sucked in a shuddering breath. “She’s human.”

“Jackson Crimson,” Aeron said. “The journals. After the Fallout, the first humans who became fae had a fever first. They thought it was a plague. Crimson … Leaf…” His eyes widenedeven further. “What if Blake isn’t dying? What if she’s changing into something new?”

“Is this true?” River’s gaze snapped to Ada’s.

A troubled look crossed her features. “That illness wiped out billions of people.”

“Shit.” River started pacing, kicking through his fallen feathers. “Shit. Shit.”

“She is still connected to the Well, tethered to this world.” Clara picked up Blake’s marked hand. “The Spring Court King is right. It’s not over until you see manabeeze.”

“But I can’t feel her…” River closed his eyes and hunted for their bond. Shook his head. His throat was too tight to speak.

She wasn’t breathing. Her heart had stopped. Healing magic failed. It was only a matter of time before those traitorous balls of energy popped out of her corpse.

“She’s not dying.” Cloud pushed River aside. Heclimbedonto Blake’s bed and straddled her. He flipped his knife and tore a line straight down her collar. Before he was done, he slid his free palm against her sternum?—

River lunged forward. “Get off her, you sick fuck.”

Death sang in his veins. Power flooded him from the Well’s darkest depths, begging for release. River would take it all. He would plumb every drop from the world to save her.

“Trust me.”

Two words sputtered River’s rage. They shot him deep into the past.

Three crows. One lake.

“You’re sure about this?” Ash muttered.

“No,” River answered. “But you fuck faces trust me.”