“Do it, my love.”
The voice in my head is coming from the vault—the place where, gods help me, I’ve locked her away, hiding the echoes of her that lived on inside me. I silenced her. Again and again, because it was easier for me than remembering. In that way, I’m just like him.
“You are the best and strongest parts of us both. Finish it, Celine. Lay it all to rest, with him alongside it.”
Sobbing, I cling to consciousness with slippery fingers.
Alistair is grappling with my father, his foot bent at an odd angle.
I’m on the floor, chest pressed against the dusty stone, barely strong enough to hold my head up. Useless. How can I finish it? My mind is locked in the past while my body falls under the control of the poison. All I have left ismy magic.
I didn’t dare risk this attack earlier. It debilitates me, even when I’m at my strongest. But now, I’ve got nothing left to lose. It’s my only option. I reach for it with everything I have left, forcing my fingers to uncurl.
My mouth forms words, but they’re inaudible.
No, no, no. I can’t allow him to silence me. Death would be better.
Swallowing around my swollen tongue, I beg my voice to work. Alistair is losing the fight, but he isn’t giving up. I can’t risk hitting him. His life’s work is built on lies. It’s too risky.
“Move, Ali. Please.” My voice is pitifully weak, but he hears me, of course, he does. His eyes meet mine and he rolls to the side.
I scream, calling for my truth in every language I know.Truth. Truth. Truth. Gods alive and dead, force the truth on him until he chokes on it.Someone somewhere listens.
Magic pours from me, a steady stream of golden sparks, pulled from my very essence and fed by the spine running through this house. The blast hits my father square in the chest.
He wails. Anguish brought to life. His wings, dark and soiled by years of misusing his magic, fail him, wilting against his back like plucked weeds left to shrivel in the sun’s heat.
I shout once more. Magic pours from me with vicious intent, hurling him backward.
My lungs seize.It’s working.
The sudden itch on my back takes me offguard, overriding the pain of my injuries, the creep of the poison, and the magic pumping through my veins.Something’s wrong.
My tunneling vision lands on Alistair. He’s not where he should be.No. No, please, no. Anything but this.He didn’t get out of the way like I thought. Father has a grip on his shirt.
My magic cuts off, but it’s too late to stop what’s coming. I’ve already set it in motion.
Father hurtles through the stained glass window, shattering it on impact. One second, he’s there, in a world of misery, and the next, he’s gone, falling two stories to the stone courtyard below.
I couldn’t care less.
Because Alistair didn’t fall with him. He caught the lip of the window. I see his fingers curled around the jagged glass. Strength I didn’t know I had surges into my spasming muscles, and I crawl through the rubble, desperate to reach him. My vision goes dark, but I keep moving, stopping only when my outstretched hand encounters a shard of glass.
I grope around, blinking wildly to try to make out my surroundings.
One flash of light shows me my father. Impaled on a fence spike, his brown eyes are wide and unseeing. Angels are gathered around him, some staring in shock, some in delight.
I don’t care about that.
Because there’s another blood-covered face that matters more to me than his ever could.
I expect to find Alistair dangling from the window, but I get Riven instead.
My heart sinks. Blood streams from his mouth, eyes, and nose. He’s clinging to the sill, barely holding on. Static rolls over his face—his real face. Sharp cheekbones, disorganized freckles, and deep brown eyes. Gods, he’s trying to shift. Probably to something with wings, but it doesn’t work.
He got caught in the edge of my blast. With as many lies ashe’s told, I’m surprised he can even think past the pain enough to try to change his form.
It’s a miracle it didn’t kill him, but I won’t let him go. Not now, not ever.
