Page 105 of The Simurgh

You shall lose him.

Christ, he’d never been more certain.

‘Silas, is everything all right?’ Pitch said from somewhere in the honey haze. ‘Why are we stopped?’

Nothing was all right. Not this place, this fate of theirs, or this fucking headache.

You shall be torn apart.

‘I don’t think we shall survive this.’ The words jumped from him, startling for how ready they were to form. ‘They want to tear us apart.’

He stabbed his fingers at his temple. His head felt stuffed with cotton, overfull enough to crack his bone.

‘Fuck,’ came a distant curse. ‘Silas, I feel it too. Gird yourself, man, shut them out. Get up.’

Silas could not lift his head, it was made of lead now. But with his chin hung low, he could see that he had fallen to his knees. The prince was dragging at him, punching him on occasion.

‘Are you listening to me? Fucking gods, Silas, I beg you, please, get up. We are not alone.’

Of course not. They’d never been allowed to be alone. To be content. Silas wanted to touch his lover, but the grief pinned him down.

They are going to hurt him in ways you cannot imagine.

‘I don’t want them to hurt you.’

‘No one is hurting me, they are deceiving you…get off your fucking arse and beherewith me.’ The tugs at his sleeve were frantic, rocking Silas’s body as the daemon grew more fevered. ‘I’m not leaving you, do you hear me? But I really need you to come back to me now. They are toying with your head. Whatever you are hearing, it is lies. I am right here. I am not hurting, not when I’m with you. Never.’

The hyacinth rustled, their tips now near to Silas’s chest.

He will die, you know he will.

Silas slumped forward, pressing his hands to the ground. He squinted against the shocking ache behind his eyes.

A thump landed on the back of his head.

‘You are stronger than this, Silas,’ Pitch said. ‘Oh gods, please. Fight, you stupid oaf. I am not losing you this way.’

Loss and death.

Silas dug his fingers into dirt that was beaded like rice. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find a way through the consuming headache. He was shivering hard.

Death.

Was he not its messenger? Its master?

Fight.

You are stronger than this.

Silas crushed the dirt in his fists. The curtains of despair in his mind rustled and parted open, just a crack. Silas lifted his hand, and Pitch grabbed him. He threaded his fine fingers through Silas’s. The rings rasped gently against one another, and the daemon’s heat flooded him.

Fight. For this man.

Silas inhaled.

The curtains were torn from their railings. His mind spread wide open. Free.

He dragged in a shuddered breath, fury filling him. ‘Oh god,’ he breathed. ‘Pitch. I’ve been a fool.’