My head throbs as I stare at the grass rippling and twisting in a wind that's becoming more blustery by the second, heralding an incoming storm. Holding my whipping hair out of my face, I scan the grey skies, searching for the familiar silhouette of my dragon.
Sesca is nowhere to be seen.
I try reaching out through our bond, directing thought after thought toward her, but?—
Nothing.
The throbbing in my head gets worse. Soon it's moving into my chest, pressing in like a fist closing around my heart, and a feverish trembling begins overtaking my entire body.
Shock, I tell myself.
All of the bad news I’ve endured is finally catching up to me. I'm past the point of what I can handle mentally, so it makes sense that my body is starting to buckle under the excess.
By the time I make it back inside, however, I can barely walk straight—and I'm beginning to fear that something else is wrong with me. Something beyond shock and exhaustion. I can't explain it. I only know that it's getting harder and harder to breathe.
I stumble as far as I can through the palace, stopping frequently to catch my balance. The halls twist and stretch away from me, every destination I try to reach sliding further off as I approach it. As my vision starts to fade, I catch sight of a figure at the far end of the corridor. I can’t see well enough to tell who it is, but I try calling out to them anyway.
Help.
I don't think the word actually leaves my lips. But I feel myself slowly collapsing, and that catches her attention.
“Lady Arowyn!”
I'm on the ground. Cold marble underneath my cheek. Footsteps pounding closer. Hands frantically moving over my body, checking it for injuries.
More footsteps.
More voices.
More hands, and then I'm being lifted into the air.
I blink, and then I’m somehow in my room with blurry figures leaning over me, talking in hushed, hurried tones.
“Inform the king,” I hear one of them say.
Don't, I try to reply.He has enough to worry about already.
But again, I don't think my words are actually making it out of my mouth. So no matter how many times I try to tell themI'm fine, it does no good. I'm trapped in a body that's becoming increasingly like a grave—silent and cold and still—and soon a shroud of darkness is pulling itself over me with what seems like a terrifying finality.
I don't know how long I lay entombed in that darkness before I manage to open my eyes again, to see a bit of pale, watery light filtering through the curtains. It lasts only a few seconds before the darkness surges back and swallows me up again.
Over and over, I try to fight my way back to the light.
“Still here,” I whisper, every time I manage to get my lips to form the words. The stubborn greeting of the Burn coming back to me when I need it most, reminding me that if I can just take another breath, if I can just open my eyes one more time, it means I’m not dead yet, and I can keep going.
Still here, still here, still here.
And eventually, I'm here to stay.
Awareness trickles back. My eyes open andstayopen. My body feels distant and unfamiliar, but at least I can feel it. And the first thing I notice about it is a small, sharp pain on one of my fingers—the finger that bears the ring Reave gave me on the first morning I arrived in the palace.
I lift my hand, blinking until I get my eye to focus.
The ring is gone.
There's dried blood winding a trail down my finger, across my palm, little drops of it dribbled over the silk sheets. And in place of the king's ruby is a freshly carved mark: a circle with six tapered points bursting outward.
I bolt upright, nearly losing my balance and toppling to the floor. Horror seizes my breath and briefly stops my heart as the meaning behind this new mark settles into me.
