Page 62 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)

Chapter 62

Matthias

M y world imploded the moment my lips touched hers.

Everything I’d ever known, ever desired to know, and ever yearned to forget vanished—all replaced by one single thought: Calla.

I’d thought myself whole, but I’d been a fucking fool. I’d been happy, content, but I’d been blind to the cracks and crevices and hollow spaces of my soul until she filled them all—like parts of me I’d never known were missing had finally been restored to where the stars had always intended them to be. I had spent my whole life loyal to my friend and his kingdom with the sole purpose of serving them, and while that duty remained, she dwarfed them all.

I couldn’t let her go even if I’d wanted to, and I never wanted to.

How in the stars had Connor run away from Lieke in that moment? How had he released her, let alone abandoned her?

I clung to Calla with desperate hands, my lips silently begging her to respond, to return my kiss, to wake up. Softly, I parted her lips, sweeping my tongue against hers, mentally screaming at the stars for there to be some of the antidote left there to save her—my mate.

Reluctantly I pulled back as far as I dared, nuzzling my nose against hers as I opened my eyes. But no deep brown stared back at me. She was as motionless before.

Had she felt the bond? Had she sensed even a sliver of what I had in that kiss?

Her face gave no indication she had.

What if the poison numbed her senses so much not even our stars-fated bond could reach her?

No. I refused to accept that.

She knew. She had to know. She had to come back to me.

Lowering my hands, I gripped hers in mine and squeezed gently. Her shadows tickled my palms, and I peered down to see them slipping between my fingers, wrapping around our hands like an ancient ceremony binding us to one another.

Through weary eyes, I studied her face again, but she remained torturously still. I rested my forehead against hers and pressed my eyes closed.

“Don’t worry, Killer,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Slipping my arms beneath her legs and shoulders, I lifted her up and stood, prepared to argue with anyone who tried to stop me. I turned. Everyone simply stared at us, their mouths agape, some hidden behind splayed fingers, others displayed like prized fish on a tavern wall. Isa’s hand hovered in the air, pointing at me, as if the moment I’d kissed Calla had frozen her in mid-scolding.

“I’m taking her to the healers,” I declared, daring any of them to argue.

They didn’t, but behind Isa, Graham shifted, the first to move. Anger flashed in his eyes under bitter brows, while his lips twisted into a sneer, but the expression dissolved so quickly—settling into one of disappointed acceptance—that I half-wondered if I’d imagined his rage. Before he could say anything, though, Isa rasped out, “You’re…”

I waited half a breath for her to say it, but when she didn’t, I did it for her.

“Mates. Yes.”

“But…”

“How…”

“What…”

Their hushed voices all chimed in at once with unfinished questions, but I ignored them all, lifting my chin and pivoting toward the door. Korben slid in front of it to block my way.

“Being mates doesn’t mean you win,” he taunted.

“And winning won’t be worth shit if she fucking dies. Move.”

He refused but dared to lean toward me. “Who would want to marry a shadow bitch anyway?”

If only I had my own set of shadows, I’d have had them gut the male right where he stood.

Cackling to himself, he threw his head back and stepped out of my way, directly into the path of Isa’s dagger. It struck him hard below the collar bone, burying deep into his chest. He looked down, perplexed, his hands floating up to the handle sticking out of him as if he didn’t quite believe it was there.

“Go!” Isa shouted, running up beside me to open the door. “Get her to the infirmary. Now!”

I didn’t need her to shove me out of the room, but she did all the same.

The journey down to the healers took far longer than I wanted, and I nearly slid onto my ass several times trying to round the stairs too quickly. By the time I reached the lower level, my lungs heaved, my legs burned, and my arms and head throbbed, but I’d have suffered far more than this to heal Calla.

Jocelyn waited at the door before I’d even turned the corner.

“I can’t believe they poisoned her,” she said. I shot her a confused look. “You know staff gossip. Bring her inside.”

I tried to catch my breath as I laid Calla gently on the bed that had been mine.

Jocelyn checked her pulse, her eyes, her breathing, not looking at me as she asked, “How long ago was she given the antidote?”

“She wasn’t,” I choked out, guilt flooding my chest.

The healer’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“There wasn’t any left,” I said. “But you have some here. Get it for her.”

Jocelyn rushed back to the large hutch against the wall. The bottles and jars clinked and thudded as she shoved them around, knocking them into each other and sending others toppling.

“Where is it?” I asked, though I knew my badgering her wouldn’t help.

“It should be here,” she muttered, but the next shelf down didn’t offer any hope either. She slammed her hands down the hutch, sending more glasses rattling. “I just made more.”

Despite the agony of it, I rushed from Calla’s side to help Jocelyn search.

“It should be right here,” she said, her voice cracking. She shook her hand at one of the shelves. “But it’s gone.”

“How can it be gone?” I asked.

She didn’t look at me, but continued to stare at the shelves, bringing her trembling hand to her forehead. “We don’t have any.”

Grabbing Jocelyn’s elbow, I swung her around to face me, but she looked right through me, her eyes glossy.

“Jocelyn! Are you saying there’s no way to heal her?”

She didn’t respond.

I shook her just hard enough to force her to focus on me and bent lower to look her in the eye.

“Can you make more?”

“Yes—wait, no. I can’t.” Her shoulders lifted high and shook. “We used most of the poison to make the antidotes for the rest of you. The rest was supposed to be used to poison your wine, but…”

“They gave it all to Calla? There’s no more?” I asked, the bottom of my stomach dropping out. I was going to be sick. I was going to lose her. I was going to fail her.

I couldn’t.

“If we had a little bit of poison, maybe?—”

I straightened, my thoughts spinning furiously.

“How much do you need? Does it need to be the exact same poison?”

“Well, it can’t be a completely separate poison.”

“Obviously. What about the same poison, just a different concentration? Say, one that could kill a fae within seconds? Would that work?”

Suspicion clouded Jocelyn’s expression, and she let out a slow, “Yes, but…when did she drink the poison?”

“An hour ago. I think. How long does it take to make the antidote?”

“Depends on its potency.” She fumbled with her hands in the air as if doing mental calculations. “But I’d need it now.”

“Give me a few moments. I’ll be right back.”

I dashed out of the room, allowing myself one lingering glance at my mate before I left her. If she didn’t end up hating me for kissing her, she would when she learned how I saved her. But I’d gladly accept all her wrath and endure a lifetime of her hatred if it meant she lived.