Evil, awful woman. “Lolli is the one who shot me.”
A moment of stunned silence. “What makes you think so?”
“Not think. Know. For starters, she told me she wants something only you can give her, and that she’ll do anything to win you.”
He snorted. “Lollipop loves herself and power. There isn’t room for anything else, least of all a former boyfriend. Our relationship never developed beyond a surface level and isn’t worth repeating. Whatever she said, she only hoped to intimidate you and distract me.”
No. I didn’t believe that. How could she not want him for her own? He was the epitome of power, with a brand on his face to prove it. I mean, look at all he’d survived. He was honest and faithful, the two best traits. His intensity never slackened. Whatever life threw at him, he handled with confidence. He was rugged and smart. And his dry wit. He was always so serious yet somehow also witty. Not now, of course, but usually.
“I was told you dumped her when she fell for you.”
The muscles between his shoulders bunched. “Is that why you—rumors are wrong,” he grated. “She never loved me, and I never loved her.”
Maybe he hadn’t. But. “Sheisthe one who shot me. Before I collapsed, I saw her standing a few feet away with a smoking gun aimed in my direction.”
Another beat of silence. Then, “I’ll handle her.”
An undercurrent of rage accompanied each word, and I shuddered.Lolli’s gonna get it.“I watched a feeder claw your throat, but you are uninjured.”
“I wore a protective covering,” he said, an odd note in his voice. A note I didn’t understand.
But I didn’t press. Not here, not now. “Your brother seems nice-ish,” I said, making small talk as we raced on.
“He isn’t. Since the death of his wife, he’s been ... not right.”
I had a million other questions, but a few dozen feeders raced our way. As I aimed, intent, they stopped short. Hmm. They didn’t attack but stared at us while huffing and puffing, as if they’d never wanted anything as much as they wanted to eat us.
Cyrus helped me spring over a stack of dead bodies made of soldiers and feeders alike.Don’t look, don’t look.The vans were long gone, no living lords, ladies, knights, barons, or royals left behind.
My gaze landed on one of the slain, and my chest squeezed. Cash. His blank eyes peered at nothing.
He’d survived the attack at the base only to die in the field. Tears welled, but still I motored on.
We cleared the rubble and came across more staring feeders. They kept their distance, observing us, all but drooling for a taste.
“What’s going on?” I threw a glance over one shoulder, then the other. “Why are they avoiding us?”
“They sense the healing power flowing through your veins. It’s strong enough to kill them.”
“I don’t understand.” Although, yes, I did feel different. Not just stronger, but clearer, more confident and driven, with a frenzy of heat burning soul deep. “If Ember is the source of this healing power, she carried it inside herself before passing it on to me, yet the feeders weren’t afraid to approach her.”
“The power isn’t hers. She’s merely a conduit for Soal’s power, the same as we are. Some are better conduits than others, able to contain more. She’s one of the best, and yet she only contains the barest taste.”
Well, well. Becoming a better conduit suddenly topped my to-do list. But, um, exactly how powerful was Soal? Because wow. If this was simply a taste ...
“Having experienced the healing power for myself, at Victors’s hands, I can tell you the bonus effect will last about an hour. The problem is, we’re at least three hours from the base.” He picked up a fallen CO2 dagger and rotated without missing a beat, shoving the weapon into an empty sheath at my waist.
“Thank you,” I said, already dreading the loss of this wondrous power.
We turned the corner of a cracked wall made of some kind of glistening crystal, and Cyrus ground to a halt. What the—ah. A statue of Astan loomed to the left, his wings stretched wide. The head was gold, the midsection and arms silver, the legs iron, and the feet a mix of metals caked in mud. Most other sculptures were made of marble,bronze, limestone, or terra-cotta. I’d never encountered one like this. His thick horns had raised another inch.
I licked chapped lips. With arms spread wide and a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth, he appeared to survey the battlefield beyond us.
Astan’s horns will straighten. When they reach maximum height, they will release a blast across both realms.
Tick tock.
Dread attempted to infiltrate my mind.Focus.There was nothing I could do about the horns right now. They weren’t even the most imminent threat.
