Page 187 of Bedeviled

I feel the magic bleeding out of that touch as my eyelids flutter open.

The night’s events come rushing back in all their terrible glory.

Goddess above, I’m alive.

Which means … Memnon must’ve revived me.

And now it seems he holds me cradled in his arms.

“Est amage?” He breathes it so quietly I almost miss it.

Slowly, I lift my head and meet his dark eyes, which gleam under the light of the orbs above us—orbs he must’ve relit after he…stopped my heart.

I see tear tracks down his cheeks. Those too, shine in the blue light above us.

I feel his entire body relax against me. Across our bond, his relief floods his system, drowning out almost every other emotion.

The hand that was over my heart now moves up, cupping the side of my face.

“My fierce, exquisite queen,” he says softly rocking me gently. He gazes at me with a sort of bereaved adoration. “You returned to me.” Quieter still he adds, “I wasn’t sure you would.” His fingers trail over my features, like he’s taking them in one last time.

“You can speak freely now,” I say.

Memnon gives his head a sharp shake. “Only some commands were broken when I—” His throat bobs, and he draws in a deep breath. “When you—” Again, he cannot seem to say it.

I nod. “When I died.” My voice is alarmingly weak.

His gaze searches mine. One moment his face is soft, the next it seems to fall to grief. “When I…killed you.” His voice breaks as he corrects me, and I sense in real time that something within my soul mate also died in the act.

I move my hand to my heart, where I can hear it beating steadily. “You did also bring me back to life,” I whisper.

He gives his head another agonized shake, and though I sense his emotions, he keeps his thoughts far from me.

Memnon’s hand moves to my hips, and he withdraws one of my blades from its sheath. The sorcerer presses it into my palm.

I’m too weak to fight his hold when he then covers my hand with his and guides the blade to his neck.

To my horror he holds it there.

“I am not allowed to ask you to do this,” he says, his expression fierce, “but you understand, don’t you?”

Tears well in my eyes. I do understand this abominable request.

“One swift cut and you’ll have your vengeance, my queen,” he says.

My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

I work to find my voice. “We are long past vengeance, est xsaya.” I swallow down my rising bile at the sight of my weapon so close to his skin. “I would sooner die than hurt you. Now, put my dagger back.”

I feel a shudder work through him at my words, perhaps because he cannot say the same thing. But he doesn’t put my dagger back.

Instead, his jaw clenches with resolve. “If I die, I will be freed.”

From Eislyn’s bond, he means. He must not be allowed to confess this, but the penetrating look he gives me says as much.

“You know how to revive me,” he continues. He still grips my own hand—and the dagger held within it—to his neck. “You’ve seen me do it.” Softer, he adds, “I trust you.”

Goddess, is he really proposing that I kill him? And right on the wings of my own brief death, too. I can feel my hysteria rising up.