Page 27

Chapter

Fifteen

EZABELL

I walked quickly, each step carrying me farther from the men who betrayed me.

The latest men who betrayed me. I’d have to make a list to keep them all straight.

The Dokimasi tugged relentlessly, each yank on my chest a physical reminder of Dain and Nikolas’s treachery. The magic tried to steer me back to Dain, but I clenched my jaw and pushed forward. The magic could pull all it wanted. I wouldn’t return.

Afternoon sun slanted through the trees, casting long shadows across my path. Birds called to one another in the branches overhead, oblivious to my anger. I wiped sweat from my brow and kept walking.

Helios had zipped away shortly after we left the clearing, but now he returned, hovering silently at my shoulder.

“Where did you go?” I asked. His body was dim, the fire atop his head subdued.

“Just making sure we weren’t followed.”

My throat ached with unshed tears. I swallowed them, willing anger to replace my heartache.

I’d wasted enough tears in my life. Crying had never eased my childhood loneliness.

It hadn’t fixed my father’s indifference.

Tears hadn’t blunted the shock of Corvus’s betrayal.

I wouldn’t waste any on Nikolas and Dain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Helios murmured.

The ache in my throat became a burn. “Not yet,” I managed to whisper. I couldn’t bear to hear my failures out loud—even if I was the one reciting them.

He didn’t press, and for the next half hour, we traveled in silence, the only sound my footsteps and the occasional chattering of squirrels as they scurried from tree to tree.

The sun swelled overhead, its heat searing my shoulders.

The hasty breakfast I’d eaten was a distant memory.

Helios would fare just fine with sunlight, but I had no food and no money.

And I’d stormed from the clearing without taking a weapon.

One spectacular decision after another. Maybe I didn’t deserve to rule the Summer Court.

Abruptly, the tug of magic in my chest faltered. Slowing, I touched my sternum.

Helios gave me a worried look. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just—” The magic shuddered like a candle tossed by the wind. Then it faded to almost nothing.

I stopped, shock rooting me to the road. “The Dokimasi is weak. It’s…almost gone, like a stream drying up.” Confusion and fear swirled through me. “I don’t know what it means.”

Helios frowned. “Maybe it’s because you’ve rejected the connection with Dain.”

Both explanations were plausible. Magic was powerful, but so was free will. If the Dokimasi sensed that I’d chosen to complete my quest alone, perhaps it was adapting accordingly. Or maybe it simply weakened because of the distance between us.

“Well,” I said, “it’s a welcome change.” We started forward again, and I ignored the little voice that tried to whisper about a fourth possibility. Maybe Viraxes sent another bounty hunter.

The sun dipped toward the horizon, and shadows formed between the trees. The temperature cooled. An owl hooted, followed by a high-pitched scream. Just an animal , I told myself. But as the sunset faded into twilight, nerves prickled over my nape. I couldn’t walk through the night.

Helios yawned, his body flickering. His spectacles slipped down his nose. Shaking himself, he shoved them back into place.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Totally fine,” he said. “Just a little tired.”

Doubts gathered as I eyed his quavering form. “As soon as we find a suitable place, we’ll stop for the night.”

But another half hour later, we continued to pass nothing but grassy fields and shadowed forests. The sun disappeared below the horizon, taking its heat and light with it. Helios provided enough glow to see the road, but his body dimmed with every step.

He flickered, and he stopped in the road, his head nodding and his eyes sliding shut. He pitched forward slowly, his face on a collision course with the ground.

“Helios!” I cried, grabbing him before he could fall. He roused at once.

“I’m all right,” he insisted.

“Hold onto me,” I said, taking his arm. “Sleep if you need to. I’ll carry you.”

“Not tired,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping again.

I hurried forward, searching both sides of the road for a safe resting place. Now that the Dokimasi was all but gone, I longed for its return. Yes, its constant tugging had been a nuisance, but I’d never had to think about which way to go.

Now, I stumbled through the dark with a groggy Helios. My stomach growled—a sharp reminder of my other problem. Unlike Nikolas, I didn’t know how to hunt. That would be my first order of business when I reclaimed my throne: learning how to survive the forest alone.

As soon as the thought formed, dread settled in my gut. Corvus squatted on my throne. I had no idea what to expect if I crossed the Covenant. Would the people rally around me if I returned without the sunstone? Would they even recognize me as my father’s heir?

My feet started to ache. Fresh tears burned my eyes. Helios’s light faded like a banked fire. He grew heavier, his bulk more difficult to pull. Just when a scream of frustration gathered in my throat, the silhouette of a building emerged from the gloom.

My heart sped up. Excitement lent me renewed energy, and I plunged into the grass next to the road with Helios in tow. The structure was a weathered stone barn, its doors hanging askew on rusted hinges. Several holes marred the roof.

“Let’s see if it’s empty,” I whispered to Helios, who roused enough to give a bleary-eyed nod.

The barn was abandoned but it wasn’t empty. Stacks of moldering hay lined the walls. Holes in the ceiling allowed shafts of moonlight to spill onto the dusty floor. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

I settled Helios against the wall, then sank onto a bale next to him.

“I’ll keep watch,” he mumbled.

Smiling, I reached down and nudged his spectacles higher on his nose. “We’ll take turns.”

He grumbled something unintelligible before his chin dropped to his chest. Within seconds, soft snores filled the musty air.

I leaned back against the splintered wall, watching moonlight shift across the barn floor. The silence pressed in, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My stomach growled again, and visions of all my favorite dishes paraded cruelly through my mind.

Closing my eyes, I leaned against the wall behind me.

I’d have to find food tomorrow. Water too.

Those were my most pressing needs, but I also needed a plan.

The sunstone was still out there, and I couldn’t return to the Summer Court empty-handed.

Not if I had any hope of reclaiming my crown.

But how could I survive in Andulum without my magic? For all I knew, the sunstone had never crossed the Covenant in the first place. Maybe the Dokimasi had simply wanted to test me.

A bitter smile curved my lips. If Dain and Nikolas were a test, I’d failed in spectacular fashion.

Absently, I rubbed at my chest. The Dokimasi was so faint that it might as well have been gone altogether. I strained for it, expecting nothing.

Except… there . The magic pulsed in barely-there beats, its rhythm feeble but present. For now.

Fatigue tugged at me. But I had to stay awake.

Blinking hard, I straightened against the wall.

Helios slumbered on, his chin on his chest. Stretching my legs on the bale before me, I turned my gaze to the stars visible through one of the holes in the barn’s ceiling.

Somewhere outside the barn, a sole cricket chirped.

A bird chirped, jolting me awake. Pinkish light streamed through the barn’s roof. I’d slept through the night.

Helios stirred on the ground. A second later, his eyes popped open. “Is it my turn to keep watch?”

I couldn’t hide my smile. “No. We both fell asleep. It’s morning.”

He sat up straighter, his body brightening as the sky outside brightened. “Oh. Well, that’s all right, I guess. I feel much better.” He frowned at me. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

He floated up, hovering at eye level. “What now? Back to the road?”

I drew a deep breath, a decision solidifying in my mind. “We’re returning to Lum Laras.”

Relief swept his features. “Good. That’s good, Ezabell.”

I rose from the hay bale and shook out my skirts. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when I cross the Covenant, though.” Doubts gnawed at me. “I don’t have a plan.”

“Let’s get your magic back first,” he said. “Then we can figure out what to do next.”

I paced the barn’s stone floor, working the kinks from my neck.

“What if my magic isn’t enough? I don’t have the sunstone.

” My voice rose, the doubts rising against the dam I’d built in my mind.

“Every king of the Summer Court has worn the sunstone in his crown. Without the stone, I’m just as much of a pretender as Corvus.

I’m no one. Maybe I’m not meant to rule. ”

Helios zipped in front of me, halting my pacing. His expression turned fierce. “You are not weak, Ezabell, and you aren’t nothing. Because if you’re nothing, then so am I.” He spread his arms. “Do I look like nothing?”

“Of course not. But?—”

“No buts,” he said, slashing a fiery hand through the air. “You didn’t just make something when you created me. You made someone .” His eyes softened. “That’s powerful magic, Princess. Only a queen could create someone as magical as me.”

Tears pricked my eyes. A watery laugh spilled from me as I pulled him into a hug. His warmth seeped into my clothes, banishing the chill leftover from the uncomfortable night.

“Thank you, old friend,” I whispered.

“Any time, Your Highness.”

A scuffling sound made us spring apart. Helios darted in front of me as we whirled toward the barn’s entrance.

“Who’s there?” I called, my voice in danger of cracking. “Show yourself!”

Nikolas stepped between the broken barn doors, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. His face was haggard, and his voice was rough as he said, “It’s me. Please, Ezabell, you have to come. It’s Dain. He’s sick.” Nikolas drew a shuddering breath. “I… He’s dying.”

My gut clenched. “Is this a trick?” I demanded, distrust mounting. “Where is he?”

Nikolas dropped to his knees. “I’m not lying to you, Bel.

” His words tumbled forth in a desperate-sounding rush.

“I found an inn not far from the clearing. Thank the gods, because for a minute I thought I’d lost him.

I don’t know what else to do. But he’s elfkin, a-and the two of you are connected.

I don’t know if you can help, but we have to try.

” Anguish covered his features. “I swear to you, I’m telling the truth. He’s dying.”

Tension stretched between us. Helios looked over his shoulder at me, his face inscrutable.

Nikolas coughed—a wet, ugly sound that echoed through the barn. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face white as chalk. With shaking hands, he unbuttoned his shirt.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, alarm building.

He pulled the two halves of his shirt wide, and I forgot how to breathe. Glowing yellow light spread over his chest, tracing the path of his veins like vines climbing a tree. As I watched, one of the tiny rivers climbed a slow path toward his neck.

“It’s the curse,” Nikolas said hoarsely. “Please, Ezabell. We have to save Dain.”