“Immy.” I gave her a jolt. “Let mehelpyou.”
For a moment, the fight went out of her limbs. Her mouth tugged down at the corners and her grip on my forearms eased, leaving her talons to rest gently against my skin. She stared up at me, dazed and fatigued, when something foreign lit her golden eyes. Something like hunger. Likeneed.
Her tongue swiped across her lower lip as she pressed her talons into my forearms until they hurt. “Help me.”
Gods.Her begging nearly cleaved me in two. Lachlan and Healer Carras raced in.
“Oh my Gods,” Carras breathed, eyes riveted on the bloody mess spread over Imogen’s stomach and the bed around her. Seeing such worry upon their usually composed face only brought me dread. “It’s a spell, Your Majesty. There may be no fixing it.”
“No.” I pressed harder on Imogen’s stomach, making her scream. Her heart thudded irregularly; her breaths had become a dry, shallow wheeze. The realization that healing her might be beyond my power was starting to sink into me like ripping fangs. “I demand your assistance.”
Carras didn’t delay, climbing onto the mattress and pressing their hands around my own, joining their power with mine. Imogen still clung to my forearms, trembling from the onslaught. The blood and sand didn’t slow, but the kelp that had been fused with Imogen’s skin had loosened completely. I peeled it away.
“Lachlan, get water and a cloth.” I needed to clean the wound before closing it. Lachlan came with a washbasin and rag. The healer reached for it and brought it to Imogen’s stomach, just as she sank her talons deep into my forearms.
I growled through my teeth at the sting.
“Your Majesty, stop,” Carras said as they reached for Imogen’s wrists and pulled. “It’s no use.”
“No.Keep. Going.”
The healer grimaced but pressed their hands back against Imogen’s stomach. Lachlan lifted his sword and positioned it over her, poised to drive it into her chest.
“Put that down,” I yelled, sweat dripping over my brow.
It wasn’t Imogen that I feared. It was the terrifyingly foreign feeling of my power draining. It had always flowed endlessly. A chill crept through my body as it dwindled. My blood poured from my arms, rolling over Imogen’s hands.
For a moment our gazes locked and I took her in. The white sheets,the dark spill of her hair, of her sandy blood. The too slow beat of her heart. “Imogen.”She went suddenly limp. Her hands fell away from my forearms. The gash in her stomach stopped oozing sand.
I grasped either side of her waist and shook her. “Imogen?” I leaned closer, running my hands over her arms, her neck. I reached for the still-open wound in her stomach. It was smaller now, perhaps the size it had been when she’d first been stabbed. I pressed a finger to its edge, when it began to bleed again, but this time it spilled pure, bright red blood.
As if from a new wound.
The healer shook their head, awed. “You removed the spell.”
The spell that had kept her alive. Now, I realized, the death wound was free to take her.
Something overcame me then. Some singular, unnerving drive that I had never felt before. I’d thought I’d been emptied, but a new surge of my power came, so strong that it scorched. I fought deep tremors. I thought my palms would melt where they touched Imogen, but I did not relent. I would not let her die likethis.
“Your Majesty, careful.”
Lachlan drew closer, sword still at the ready.“Theo.”
Imogen’s breaths had nearly stopped. I couldn’t sense her heartbeat through my panic, but finally, the edges of her wound began to stretch toward one another, a network of fleshy threads fighting to become a tight weave.
As darkness stained the edge of my vision, the skin fully closed, leaving behind a rippling scar. I shook out an exhale. Her heart was stronger; her breaths began to even out. I was covered in red, sticky grit, but I dragged my trembling thumb over her taut skin, marveling at it as the reality of what had just occurred settled over me.
It had taken nearly all of me—even now I was on the brink of collapse—but my power had banished a spell.
I climbed from Imogen’s still-limp body and settled on the edge of the bed, where I tried to wipe some of the viscera from my hands. Never once did I take my eyes from her. Color was slowly rising to her tearstained cheeks. I brushed a knuckle across her chin, then a finger over her temple.
I leaned in to whisper. “Immy?”
Her eyes fluttered open, looking tired but bright, and locked with mine. A warm, magnificent smile spread slowly over her face. “There you are, dearest.” Her voice was husky and low as she reached up for me, talons still bared. “I’ve waited so long.”
Lachlan shoved me back. He dragged Imogen—far too roughly—from the bed and hoisted her up into his arms. She gave a groan as her head lolled back, arms swaying loosely.
I was struck still, stunned as Lachlan carried Imogen toward the cabin door. Something alien had hung in her gaze. Her voice had been too smooth, too honeyed, and yet I’d nearly leaned in closer. I’d been eager to. My stomach churned.
