Page 36

K yrie

Pain is my new companion.

She’s a real bitch, but she’s here to stay. Blood leaks into my hands from the cuts all over my arms, more running from the slashes all along my legs and pooling under my heels.

The sound of my blood dripping through the rivulets in the stone tablet to slowly collect in a basin beneath the table is especially disgusting.

I hate that for this to work, I have to trust everything Arek’s told me.

I have to trust myself even more, though, and that might be the hardest thing of all.

“Your mate is already bleeding power,” Sola tells me, a smirk on her lips.

“Great,” I enthuse. “Let’s get this show on the road.” A glance at the sky overhead tells me it’s nearly high noon. “Go ahead and hit me with it,” I tell her, pointing to the wickedly curved knife in her hand.

Considering their handiwork’s left me light-headed and in pain, the sooner we get this over with, the better for me.

And everyone, if Arek’s already using as much power as she says he is.

My lips are dry, and I lick them, staring up at the tufts of clouds in the blue, blue sky.

I can do this. I have to be able to do this.

Trust, I tell myself. Faith.

In the distance, the sound of battle rages.

Sola’s saying something to me, but I can’t quite summon the energy to do more than let the noise of it wash over me, like an annoying mosquito.

“Oh, good, you’re chanting,” I tell her, tucking my chin into my chest so I can see her better. “That’s nice.”

She cuts me an irritated look, which makes me grin as her incantation continues.

Her blonde hair’s long enough that it drags in the rivers of my blood funneling through the table, slanted to allow it to run into the basin. It stains the light blonde red, and that seems appropriate, somehow.

More honest.

I don’t know what they plan to do with all that blood, but they’re not going to get the chance to do it, because I have to believe in myself.

I have to trust.

“ Golden tongue, you must time it perfectly .” Han’s voice echoes in my mind, which is much quieter than normal.

“Such a mother hen,” I say out loud, blinking up at the sky.

Sola glances sidelong at me, still chanting. Her fingers are red from being dipped in my blood.

“That’s a real style choice,” I tell her, woozy, laughing a little. “The red fingers.”

One of the few priestesses that haven’t gone to the battlefield slaps me across the cheek.

It’s worrisome that I’ve lost so much blood that I hardly feel it.

“Gotta get your jollies somehow,” I mumble at her.

“ Three seconds ,” Han tells me.

Sola’s eyes glow red, red as the blood in her hair, red as the blood on her fingers, and I take a deep breath.

She raises the knife over my chest, and I don’t dare close my eyes.

I want to see when it happens.

I keep drawing air, sucking in all the power my poor body can possibly hold.

“Your time is done,” I tell her. The words are suffused with magic, an impossible feat, one I don’t know how I’m doing, one I know I couldn’t recreate if I wanted to.

A feat all of the lives in Heska depend upon.

The Fae.

The humans.

The dryads and other magical creatures hunted to near extinction.

My friends.

My mate.

I blink, gathering that power into a shining ball, holding it in my mind’s eye, like Han showed me.

She smiles, as sharp as the blade in her hand, and plunges the knife into my chest.

It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as when the Sword did it.

I marvel at that for a moment that turns liquid, slipping through my hands, longer than it should be.

“Your reign is over,” I tell her, the words clear as a bell.

I watch the scene unfold with a sense of detachment.

Sola screams.

“No.” The word’s sluggish, and she tries to pull the knife from my chest.

My hand clamps around her wrist, and together, we slide the knife out.

The priestess grabs my other arm, trying to pin me back to the slab, babbling words of magic that bounce off my broken skin.

“My blood, my body,” I tell them both, the words floating out of my mouth unbidden. Blood rises from the grooves and troughs, droplets suspended in the air all around me.

I raise the knife, Sola still gripping it tight, trying to wrest it from my hand.

“My power,” I finish.

Gold magic streams from my mouth, my power wrapping around both Sola and her priestess. Blood spatters as Sola struggles, whipping her hair as she tries to break free.

“My power,” I repeat.

I’m glowing, the symbols they cut in my flesh burning with the magic trying to leak through every available surface.

“Your time is over,” I tell Sola again.

“ Now ,” Han says in my head, and the terrible burn he warned me about spreads from that shimmering sphere over my heart, through my lungs, racing up my throat.

Golden fire spews from my mouth.

My blood falls from the air all at once, splashing against the table.

The priestess catches fire first, running away from me before falling to the ground, still burning.

Sola’s eyes are wide, something like fear and resignation taking root in them.

It’s too late for her.

It’s too late for both of us.

The pain is unbearable, the heat causing steam to rise from the slab, my blood boiling in the troughs cut deep into the sacrificial table.

And still the fire comes, pouring out of me, all of my anger and my hope and my fury and my love, tangled into one uncontrollable stream of power.

“You’ll have nothing,” Sola says, her eyes fixed on mine.

I don’t respond. I can’t.

The magic has me in its grip.

I’m just a vessel for it.

Always the vessel.

My tongue is ash.

I let her burn. Her face disintegrates slowly, the pieces of her floating away like so much ash on a bonfire night.

My head lolls back, a jet of that furious wrath hitting the sky. I didn’t know I could hold so much within me.

“ You did well, golden tongue,” Han says, approval and sadness shining through his words.

A dark shape blots out the sun. A cloud. The magic pouring from my mouth finally stops.

The sky is so very blue. I wish Arek were here to see it with me.

It’s the last thing I see before everything goes dark.