Page 11

Chapter Seven

P ain.

There was no end to it. Agony tore through me, unrelenting and raw, as if the venom had scorched every one of my veins. My muscles ached with unnatural heaviness, and my throat was raw, shredded by my screams.

I could barely think, barely breathe. The world swirled around me, indistinct and hazy, but I clung to the faint edges of consciousness, desperate not to slip away because I knew if I did there was a chance I might not return from the Underworld this time.

Then I felt it. The air shifting around me. The rush of movement—flapping wings, hurried footsteps—and the sound of voices breaking through the haze.

“Your Highness, she’s managed to push out most of the venom herself, but some still remains. She needs immediate treatment!” a feminine voice demanded, urgent and sharp.

“The rules of the trial are clear. No one may intervene,” came the Dragon’s bitter reply.

An animalistic snarl rumbled near my ear, low and fierce, as strong arms slipped under my shoulders and knees.

A moment later, I was lifted, cradled against a warm chest. The movement sent shards of pain slicing through my body, and I whimpered, curling instinctively toward the familiar cinnamon scent that enveloped me.

“Father,” Clay’s voice was tight, his anger barely contained. “The trial was to defeat the Hydraxan, something no Descendant has ever done. She passed your test. Are you really going to let her die here, on this field?”

“Others have died in their trials, Clayton! Why should this girl be any different?” the Dragon barked.

“Your Majesty,” another voice interjected, steady and clear. Gregory Handel’s tenor. “The Crown Prince is correct. The trial’s objective was clear: kill the Hydraxan. Lady Moore succeeded where no one else could. If she dies now, so does the Council. Without her, there is no heir to Hyrax.”

“Do you want your people to watch as you let her die?” Clay growled, his arms tightening around me protectively. “Do you think that will inspire their loyalty?”

Before the Dragon could reply, Clay turned, striding away with purpose. The cold air brushed against my tender skin as we moved, and the chill sent fresh waves of agony crashing through me. I gasped, another scream tearing from my throat, but Clay only held me closer, shielding me from the wind.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Dragon roared, his voice echoing across the field.

“You can find me in the Hall of Hyrax,” Clay shot back without slowing.

“Kent and I can take her,” Rankor’s voice called, laced with concern and anger. “A Zion prince shouldn’t be in the bedroom of a Hyraxian princess.”

Fingers pressed against my back, too firm on my fragile, dying body, and the contact sent pain spiraling outward in violent waves. It started at my fingers and toes, radiating to my heart and back again.

I barely even recognized the sounds of my own cries.

I couldn’t take much more. I wasn’t strong enough .

Clay’s voice came sharp and unyielding. “I don’t care how many years of friendship we have, Rankor. You try to take her from me, and I’ll burn you alive where you stand.”

My body trembled, my breath faltering as the edges of consciousness blurred. Sleep beckoned, dark and inviting.

But I couldn’t let go. I didn't want to.

I wasn't strong enough to fight anymore though.

“ W hat do you mean?” Iris screamed, her voice shrill and thick with anguish. Was it her sobs that had pulled me back toward consciousness?

My body still wasn’t my own. I floated somewhere between the Mortal Realm and the Underworld, neither offering solace, neither free from pain.

“We’ve done everything we can,” a voice said, low and weary.

“Then do more!” Iris demanded, her tone cracking. “I won’t lose her too. I can’t. I can’t lose anyone else—”

“Shh, Iris,” Kent murmured, his voice soft and steady, though I could hear the strain beneath it. “Thea’s strong. She’s going to push through this.”

I wanted to reach for her, to comfort her, to let her know I was still here, still fighting, but I couldn’t. My body felt foreign, ravaged and brutalized, every nerve alight with fire and ice. Her frantic tears tore at my heart.

“Please,” Rankor’s voice broke through, rough with desperation. “There must be some other treatment. Something else you can try? ”

A heavy silence followed, suffocating and absolute.

Without distractions, I became painfully aware of my own body.

My blood boiled beneath my skin, every cell screaming in agony.

Sweat soaked through my clothes, clinging to my shivering frame, and my cracked lips begged for water even as my stomach churned at the thought.

“I understand how much you all care for her,” the healer finally said, her voice heavy with resignation.

“But no one has ever survived the Hydraxan’s bite.

It’s remarkable she’s lived this long—and only because of her quick thinking to expel the venom.

It’s in the Gods’ hands now. We must return to the infirmary. ”

“No!”

Clay’s roar shattered the quiet, more beast than man. The sound sent a shiver through the air, vibrating with raw fury.

“None of you leave this room until she wakes up!” he bellowed, his voice unyielding, commanding. “That’s an order!”

The room fell silent again, thick with tension. Even in my haze, I could feel the weight of Clay’s presence—his anger, his fear, his refusal to let me slip away.

I clung to that.

Through the pain, through the fog, I clung to the sound of their voices, their unwavering belief that I could survive this.

Because I had to.

A cool, damp rag pressed against my forehead, soothing the fever burning beneath my skin. Gentle fingertips followed, brushing away the damp tendrils of hair stuck to my face and neck. The touch was soft, comforting, pulling me closer to the surface of consciousness.

I clung to the scent of cinnamon.

“People will talk,” Kent’s voice murmured, low and steady, just above a whisper. “You’ve been in here for some time. Everyone saw your reaction on the field, and now the gossip’s spreading. Something about you threatening to kill the entire palace infirmary staff if she died.”

“She will not die,” Clay said, his voice firm with conviction. The bed shifted slightly under his weight as he sat beside me.

“No, she won’t,” Kent agreed, his tone lighter but edged with a hint of warning. “Thea’s far too stubborn for that. But when she eventually wakes up, you both are going to have to deal with the consequences of this, Clay.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the consequences right now!”

Footsteps echoed softly against the floor, and then the door creaked open and shut. Kent had left.

The room fell quiet, save for the sound of my shallow breaths and the rustle of Clay shifting closer. His hand brushed over my forehead again and his touch lingered for a moment.

“Just wake up for me, princess,” he whispered, his voice raw, almost pleading. “I’ll deal with whatever happens next. I don’t care. I just need you to open those ocean eyes for me.”

T ime passed. How much, I couldn’t say. Hours, days, an eternity—it all blurred together.

The only thing I knew for certain was that a slow death was infinitely worse than a quick one.

If given the choice, I would have gladly taken the blade a thousand times over rather than lie here, trapped in agony, listening to the quiet mourning of my friends.

I tossed and turned endlessly, desperate for relief, for escape, for something other than the fever ravaging my body. Someone would replace the cool towel on my forehead with a freshly dampened one every so often, yet that offered only fleeting relief. The fever burned on, relentless.

Sleep terrified me. Every time I drifted off, I feared I might not wake up. Sleep, as unwelcome as it was, offered my only fleeting moments of peace, though. I finally succumbed to it, lulled by the soft sounds of Rankor and Kent’s snores and the low murmur of Iris and Clay talking nearby.

“I hate him for doing this to her,” Iris said, her voice sharp and filled with barely contained fury.

“Not as much as I do,” Clay replied, his tone heavy.

She snorted bitterly. “Then why haven’t you done anything to stop him, Clay?”

“You know that I’ve done what I can.”

“Come on, Clay! You’re still just playing your part, even now.”

There was a pause, thick with tension.

“You have no idea what I’m working towards.”

“And you have no right to cry over her,” Iris continued, her voice trembling with anger. “You’ve lost that right. For multiple reasons.”

“I can’t be with her, Iris!” Clay’s voice rose, raw and defensive. “We can’t be with each other. She reminds me of that every opportunity she gets.”

“She’s trying to protect herself!” The sound of fabric rustling and the creak of floorboards punctuated her words.

“Iris, I’m doing what I have to do as the next king of this country.”

She laughed, cold and dark. “Funny. I imagine that’s exactly what your father was thinking when he threatened her.”

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence.

Finally, Clay spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “He did what? ”

Iris laughed again, but it was a bitter, joyless sound. “He told her that if she didn’t end things with you, he’d remove her from the Council and send her to live overseas. I imagine he was just doing what he had to do as the king of this country.”

“Please, Iris,” Clay said, his voice cracking. “Try to understand—”

“Get out, Clay.” Her voice was firm, resolute. “I don’t want you here. And soon enough, she won’t want you here either.”

C old sweat trickled slowly down the skin between my breasts as my body refused to stop trembling. I was hot and cold all at once, wide awake but bone-deep tired, ravenous yet nauseous. My body was a battlefield of contradictions as it fought the lingering traces of venom.

But at last, I was awake and sitting up.