Page 71 of Seared Fates

My eyes squeeze shut, and I suck in a shaking breath.

Maybe everything doesn’t have to be so hard. Don’t I deserve happiness?

I open my eyelids, then gradually hold out the spellbook. “I give this to you, Emma—willingly.”

And I gingerly place the large tome in her outstretched palm. There’s no grand snap of magic, just relief I’m finally rid of the thing.

Emma runs an adoring hand over the wrinkled cover. “You’ve done a good thing today, Kai.”

Nervous sweat dampens my palms. My phone in my back pocket vibrates, and it’s like a bucket of cold water waking me up.

This isn’t right. This really,reallyisn’t right.

Emma flips open the book as if she has little time to spare, whizzing through pages so quickly I can’t tell if she’s even reading the words until she stops, her hand splayed over a page with words and symbols I have no hope of understanding. “Here we are,” she whispers, awed and hungry for more than food could ever nourish.

Doubt makes me take a step back. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

Emma slaps an open palm on my bare chest just as I’m about to take a step back. “I always follow through with my promises, Kai.”

Panic seizes me, and I try to push away, but she grabs my shirt collar.

“Wait, I’ve changed my mind!”

Her mouth stretches wide enough to show teeth and pink gums. “You might feel a pinch.”

Nails dig into my chest, I scream at the pain and attempt to struggle, but I’m locked in place as a searing pain rips into my flesh and drags needles down my nerve endings.

I wail, falling to my knees when my legs give out.

Emma chants, and more pain spears through my chest. Slices up my arms, cuts into every muscle until the hurt vibrates into my marrow. My words are stolen, all I can do is wail in agony.

Emma runs a nail down my sternum, and I watch in horror as my chest slices open like a watermelon, red spilling out and soaking my jeans.

A rich metallic scent assaults my nose, and then a pain I can’t comprehend steals my breath and rips apart my nerves with bare, clawed hands.

Emma’s face swims and doubles, grinning like a lunatic as her spells destroy my body.

‘And it’s all my fault.’ I think, darkness creeping in at the edges, pain soaking my brain.

Somewhere in the background, I hear a crash, and just before I black out, a dark figure charges towards the blood mage.

Chapter twenty-seven

Vidar

Lucero finds me sitting in the dark, slouched on the sofa in his office. The cushion beside me sinks when he sits.

I don't remember how long I’ve been here. All I know is I’ve stared at the desk long enough that my dry eyes itch, but the effort to blink is like pushing a boulder up a hill.

“My apathy came back, and I drove Kai away.” My voice isn’t my own. It’s something dead.

“Tell me what happened,” Lucero asks gently, as if I’m fragile.

Like I was never a warrior.

I don’t say anything for a long time, too long probably. Then, as if I’m heaving weight after weight off my back, I drag the story out.

“Do you know what a panic attack is, Maker?”