Disappointment inks his eyes.
He whips his head around and looks back at Raeve still standing on that rocky knoll, loosely wrapped in tattered wings of white. He sucks air through his teeth, then goes, leaving me alone with a ring of guards ready to usher me into the arena.
To be slain by the one I love.
“She’s dying!”I smash my food pan against the bars with such might, the reverberations judder through my marrow. The pan clamors like a tambourine while I glare at the masked guard standing against the far wall, arms crossed. Waiting for Kyzari’s diadem to crack off so he can deliver it to Arkyn.
ToRaeve.
“Don’t you have a fuckingheart?”
My only response is the shrill echo of my desperation swinging around and punching me in the face.
Not a twitch. Barely a sign he’s even breathing.
Anger consumes me.
I whip my arm back and smash the bars, again and again and a-fucking-gain while I scream and snarl. “SHE’S”—smash—“FUCKING”—smash—“DYING!”
My face crumbles, hand swinging forward one final clanging time. Eyes squeezed shut, I press my head against the bars and allow my chest to cave. A deep, heaving sob as I fold down into a heap.
I failed her. Gave Kyzari the diary to give her hope, and it took her life—
The sound of fluttering wings whispers down the tunnel, and I look up. See a small parchment lark emerging from the darkness, gently curving toward mine and Kyzari’s cells. It wiggles faster, wings flapping harder the closer it gets.
For the first time since the shift swap, the guard shows signs of life and charges at the lark.
“I don’t think that’s for you, asshole.”
Silently, he continues powering forward.
I drop the pan and shove up, snarling as I move to the corner of my cell, clinging to the bars with clenched and shaking fists.
The guard swipes for the lark, but it dances sideways through the bars of the cell three doors down to the tune of his hissing curses. My heart beats in the base of my throat as it darts from cell to cell before finally wiggling into mine … moving past me.
I catch it anyway—the poor thing so weathered and beaten up I wonder if it’s been tossed around in a storm or three.
“You’re not allowed to receive messages,” the guard says, his words muffled behind the mask. “Hand it over. Now.”
He moves closer.
I dance back, far enough he can’t reach through and snatch me. “Can’t hear you,” I mutter, and he snarls, kicking the bars as I flatten the pleats, revealing the message within:
Kyzari.
I’m sorry for how our conversation ended. You came to me for help, and I failed you.
Please forgive me.
Where are you? I’ll come, wherever it is. I understand you may not want to see me, and though I respect that, I have something I need to talk to you about. At the very least, please send a response so I know you’re safe.
Kaan.
I swat loose tears from my cheeks before I refold the lark, wondering if he’s yet been made aware that Kyzari’s his daughter. If Arkyn’s tortured him with the information; given him everything before he snatches it back. Before he boasts that she’s half beaten her to death, and all because ofme.
I took Mah from Kaan, now I’m taking his daughter from him, too—
A short, rattled inhale stills my aching heart.
