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Ten.
Nine.
“When this is all over, I’m going to sneak into the kitchens and devour an entire chocolate cake.” Breana chuckled under her breath.
The last thing I could think about was food, but I admired her for attempting to lighten the mood and holding onto the fleeting moment of hope that remained before fate came to collect one of us.
Five.
Four.
“Save me a slice?” I replied, keeping my voice steady.
Three.
Two.
My head spun as the timer hit one, and I silently prayed I’d live to see another day—but just when the world stilled, Breana threw her arms around my middle, and I stumbled.
I tried to catch my footing, to keep us from falling, but it was fruitless.
My legs were like gelatin; her body too heavy.
We slammed onto the marble floor, stealing the air from my lungs.
It went eerily quiet. The pulse in my ears tapering to almost nothing. Was I dead? I wondered how long it’d take for the nothingness to consume me. If it was going to be painful. Memories of my mother dancing in the kitchen played in my mind, her singing, running in the field with Sugarfoot, and flying down the cobblestone. The warmth of the sun on my skin.
I’d experience none of it ever again.
Or tell my mother I loved her one last time.
Guilt devoured me, but true darkness never came.
It took a second to register the pool of blood that outlined my body, forming small streams that traveled along the grout lines away from me. The metallic scent slammed into my nostrils, and I tried to push Breana off me, but she wouldn’t budge.
“Breana, get up,” I nudged her shoulder.
But she didn’t move.
“Breana,” I tried again.
And again.
“Elowyn.” Calandra cupped a hand over her mouth as if she couldn’t bring herself to say something.
It didn’t make sense.
My body went stiff when I realized the blood wasn’t mine, but Breana’s.
I lifted my cheek off the sticky ground, stifling a gag. No, no, no! This couldn’t be real. I clung to the balance between the past and present, wishing I could stay there forever. But I knew such a place didn’t exist.
Slowly and deliberately, I lowered my gaze to the arrow that penetrated her skull. It was a perfect shot between her brows. My hands trembled as I pawed at her to push her off me and run away, but I couldn’t. I was stuck. Covered in her blood. Drowning in the guilt.
She was dead.
Breana was dead!
Twenty
