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“Are you okay?” she asked through panting breaths.
Killian couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was drenched in sweat, his head was throbbing. He was completely exhausted, but he wasn’t hurt. After everything he had said to her, after he’d chosen sheer, chaotic violence, she had saved him, and now she was asking if he was okay?
It made him physically ill that she had shown any shred of decency. A voice screamed in the back of his mind that he should hear her out. He raised his gaze to meet hers, taking in the soft curves of her face. Yet all he saw was his own shattered heart.
“Empty your pockets,” he demanded.
Elyse’s eyes went wide as she stared back at him. Confusion changed to hurt before she reached into her cloak pocket and pulled out two blue vials of transportation potion. Hesitantly, she extended them toward him. Killian swiped them from her. He transferred the vials into his own pocket and gritted his teeth.
“You have a ten-minute head start—not one second more,” he warned. It was a small gratitude for saving his life, and the only one he would offer her.
Elyse’s face remained grave. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she pursed them tightly and nodded.
Killian looked down. He couldn’t bear to watch her leave, to watch his enemy escape once more, even if it was by his choosing. “You’re wasting time,” he said, his voice breaking as he forced out the words.
Elyse was nearly silent as she stood and moved toward the door. Killian told himself not to look, but he did anyway. Elyse was silhouetted in the doorway, sunshine pouring in around her. If he hadn’t known better, he never would have guessed at the devastation on the street just outside.
She paused on the threshold, and for a moment she was just a figure, beautiful and fierce against the daylight, before she descended the stairs and left him there, alone.
Chapter 13
- Killian -
It had been three days since the destruction of Prestowne. Three days of being interviewed by the Royal Guard, of scouring the surrounding area for Elyse, of searching through spellbooks for answers. And it had all been for not.
When Killian had first magicked Manny to the town, he was forced to relive his initial horror through his friend’s eyes. Manny, too, had keeled over and emptied the contents of his stomach. The summer heat had not been kind to the decaying bodies.
It had been just the two of them for a long while as they awaited the rest of the Guard to arrive by horseback. After touring the town and taking note of the devastation, Manny had stopped Killian in the street.
“Sera has been having visions,” he confided, “of an entire town dropping dead, with fire blazing all around.” There was heartbreak in his eyes as he shook his head, staring at the devastation around him. “It must be related.”
That was how, three days later, Killian found himself climbing the twelve flights of stairs to Sera’s apartment. At first, he had been resistant to the idea of talking to Sera. He hated her presence; it only reminded him of Elyse. He hated that she had lied to protect Elyse—even if she hadn’t known the full extent of her actions. Besides, what good could possibly come from asking her about her visions? He held little belief that it would prove beneficial.
But after three days of spinning his wheels and getting nowhere, logic had beat out his emotional reservations. It would do no harm to talk to Sera, or at least, that’s what he hoped.
As he mounted the final stairs and made his way toward the curtain of beads that served as the entrance to her apartment, he still held his doubts. Something gnawed at him, pestering him. His head ached dully, which didn’t seem to bode well.
When they entered the apartment, Sera first greeted Manny with a kiss. Then she pounced on Killian, pulling him into a tight hug before he even had the opportunity to resist.
“It’s good to see you,” she said with bright eyes. She took his hand in both of hers, holding it there for a moment while she smiled at him.
Sera had always been a bit flamboyant for Killian’s taste, but she had a sort of charismatic warmth that was infectious. Despite the knot in his stomach, he found himself half-smiling back at her. That was the best he could offer, given the circumstances.
They sat at the round wooden table in the center of the kitchen, the same one where Sera had read their fortunes a few months earlier. “The Fool,” Sera had deemed him that day. He felt heat creep into the back of his neck as he realized, with disdain, just how accurate her reading had been.
Manny reached toward Sera and laid his hand atop hers. “Are you ready?” he asked gently.
Sera gave a nod, a gesture more solemn than any Killian had seen from her. He understood her reservation. Seeing the aftermath at Prestowne had been harrowing enough; he couldn’t imagine watching it happen over and over again.
Sera bravely recounted her visions. There had been four but they were mostly the same. People dropping dead in their homes, in the streets. Chaos as families tried to flee or find one another. Fire scorching everything. The picture it painted only renewed Killian’s vehemence.
“Do you have any idea who might have done this?” Killian asked, and Sera flinched. He realized he might have spoken harshly, and forced himself to soften his expression. Sera wasn’t the enemy.
She shook her head, pain in her eyes. “No—but it had to have been someone very powerful.”
Someone very powerful indeed. Killian swallowed, then asked in a low voice, “And do you have any idea why Elyse was there?”
He held his breath, waiting for Sera’s surprise—either feigned or real. He was certain she would deny knowledge of Elyse’s whereabouts.
