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Lazarus let out a low laugh at her useless pounding, and she turned on him, unleashing a new type of hell upon him. The veins in her hands were stark against her white skin as she flexed her muscles, pouring her hatred into each spell she cast. White light, black smoke, red fire—none of it seemed to affect him. He stood, his laughter juxtaposed against the intense aching in Elyse’s chest. Yet each and every shot was useless. She couldn’t hurt him.
She turned her focus back to Killian and Jaime, who were now up to their chests in dirt. She raked her fingertips down the wall, her nails bleeding as they tore.
“No, no! Please!”
She said it again and again, but her friends sank deeper into the ground, no matter how hard she slammed her palms against the wall.
“Elyse,” Killian called. He’d stopped struggling, his expression grave. Every part of him beneath his shoulders was lost below the surface. He met her eyes, so much emotion conveyed in one desperate look.
He had resigned himself to his fate. He was trying to tell her goodbye. But she refused to hear it, refused to let him sink beneath the ground and out of her reach forever. Tears streaked her cheeks, but she wouldn’t acknowledge them. She wouldn’t grieve for Killian because he would make it.
There had to be something she could do. Lazarus was powerful, but she wasn’t completely weak. She fell to her knees, hands cradling her stomach as if reaching for something inside of her that would save them. She felt the tiniest splinter of hope buried deep in her core, and she clung to it, latching on with whatever chaotic magic she could muster. It was fierce and violent and desperate, but Elyse wouldn’t let go, even as it tried to shake her off.
For Killian, she would hold fast. For Killian, who had held out hope for her after everything they’d been through. For Killian, who had come for her when she was in chains. For Killian, who had taught her grace and forgiveness, and awakened her soul. For Killian, whom she loved.
She let that love consume her, burning her insides in a white-hot rage until her magic erupted, tunneling through her like oblivion.
A hand, tan and callused, clasped within her own.
Another, pale and soft, fingers tightening around her grip.
And the clearing was gone.
Chapter 61
- Elyse -
Cold water splashed around Elyse’s feet as she landed, clutching Killian and Jaime. Heavy breaths reverberated through the surrounding forest, clamoring against Elyse’s fragile mind. Darkness encircled them, the trees mere shadows in a sea of night.
“Elyse.”
Killian’s breathless voice thrummed through her as he pulled her tight against his chest. “Are you okay?” he rasped against her hair.
Unable to speak, she pressed herself closer to him. Tears still streaked her cheeks, tears that now mingled with the dirt and sweat drenching Killian’s tunic. She was not okay. Her body shook against Killian’s, waiting, waiting, waiting for Lazarus. Ymaritis had been able to turn back time. Surely Lazarus could do the same, or worse.
Behind her, she heard Jaime splashing through the water. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear the tension in his footsteps. “Fuck,” he panted. “Where are we?”
She’d brought them to the one place she could think of. The place where she always went when her world was upended: the creek by her cottage.
No, she was definitely not okay.
Her trembling was ceaseless, even as Killian held her in his strong arms. She could feel his heart thundering in his chest, in sync with hers. Still she waited, still she breathed heavily against Killian’s shirt, as if these might be her last moments.
But Lazarus did not come.
Killian pulled away, just enough to look her in the eyes. His usual umber skin was ashen, marred by fear and failure. But he was alive. Elyse touched a hand to his face, still not fully believing it.
“How did you do that?” Killian stared at her, amazement glowing beneath everything else. “How did you magick us out of there?”
Elyse opened her mouth, but only a small, hoarse sound came out. She shook her head, stunned by her lack of an answer. “I don’t know,” she croaked.
The truth. She had no idea how she had managed to transport them away. Desperation had taken hold of her, unleashing some part of her magic she hadn’t known existed. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew it was the same power Ymaritis used to transport himself. The thought that they shared any sort of magic made her stomach churn, but she would do it again if it meant saving Killian.
“I just—I couldn’t lose you,” she added, the words raw.
Her chin trembled, and Killian enveloped her. He stroked soothing lines against her back, every caress a reminder that he was alive. He was with her.
They had failed, utterly and completely. Lazarus was alive, inhabiting a human body. But she had gotten Killian and Jaime out. And they would face this together.
