Page 86 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

Screaming erupted in my ears. Blood sprayed hot across my arms, slippery between my fingers. The taste of copper peppered my face, in my nose and lashes.

“What—what have you done?” Emilius’s voice shook with rage.

Black tinged the tiny veins under his ring like ink. I tossed the limp hand away, shoving the knife under his chin. “You have two options. I can staunch the flow of your blood until a physician can tend to it—” A deadened clang as his diamond hit the rug. “Or you can bleed out now.”

The unlocked door opened behind us, Kye and the guard stationed outside the King’s door.

“Attack!” the guard bellowed, already reaching for his sword. “The King is under—”

Kye grabbed the man by the neck, ramming his head into the nearest beam of wood. The guard collapsed in a pile of leather and cobalt blue. From across the room, golden eyes trained on the back of my head, a gaze as scorching as the sun itself.

“Either the word Leihani never leaves your throat again,” I growled, the knife still aimed at the soft hollow under the King’s jaw, “or I’ll carve the air from your lungs so you won’t even have the breath to speak it.”

Emilius was already paling, eyes already drooping, a thick sheen of sweat shining across his brow. “You island whore,” he panted.

“Leihani,” Kye said, a note of alarm in his voice.

I stretched, letting the blade press into the King’s skin. “Island witch.”

He licked his lower lip, which dragged under his tongue as though his mouth was already dry. “You think separating me from my ring will protect him?” His gaze slid to the man standing behind me.

Where a cough broke the silence.

“Fuck,” Kye choked.

My heart stalled at the sound. I turned to look at him—

Something in my head tingled, like an itch or a shiver. A voice inserted in my thoughts, my voice, that shouted to move—

Stars exploded across my field of view, as hot and bright and merciless as they’d been as I crossed the sea of them. Pain flared from the side of my skull, my teeth clanging oddly together, a sharp, flat crack against my cheek. The stars dulled, the whirls and knots of warm oak sharpening into focus.

His strength must have evaporated after slamming my head against his table, because rather than holding me there, Emilius smothered my body with his weight, a blanket made of stone. Then ripped away, fast and hard and violent, like a tornado had thrown him across the world.

Dizzy from the blaring sunlight and the hammer pounding against my temple, I slid to the floor. Emilius had fallen beside me, his skin ghostly white, the river of blood from the stump of his hand slowing to a smooth trickle. The collar of his lavish shirt was torn, a scrap in Kye’s fist. He sat over his hands and knees, a harder cough thrust from his chest. Black liquid hit the rug beneath him.

“If I die,” the King wheezed, “he dies.”

Pain and rage whirled into panic, my vocal cords locked as I heaved to them both. The King lay in a pool of his own blood—enough of it I wasn’t sure I could save him. I’d created blood before. But healing with water was an act of balance, a measured scale of blood and bone and tissue and against time.

The King’s stump of an arm was limp when I grabbed it, already cold and sagging like a dripping sponge. I wedged it into my palm, sealing muscle and skin, my teeth grating together. Kye’s breaths grew ragged. He slumped down to an elbow, blinking furiously at the pitch he’d spat the moment before, a black shine that clung to his lips and chin.

“If Kye dies, your death will be slow and agonizing,” I snarled, my voice a low, brutal whisper. “You’ll wish you’d perished here on the floor.” Blood hid between my teeth, metallic against the tip of my tongue. The bright windows flared into my eyes, warping light into long, distorted flashes that grew hazy and smudged.

Water lingered in the air. It had always been easy to find, here in the castle by the sea. Sometimes it hovered like fine mist, so thick it was like breathing a damp cloud, like walking through heavy vapor. It stirred to lift at my call, seeping into his skin and sinking into the marrow of his bones.

The King closed his eyes.

Kye inhaled, thick and wet and desperate. I glanced at him. And then I couldn’t look away. Even though I wanted to. I couldn’t watch, except that was all I could do, the shape of him hazy around the edges. He lay on his side, black leaking from his eyes, gasping for breath as it streamed from his mouth, as if he couldn’t expel it fast enough to inhale.

My blood ran cold, terror winding its way around me like a biting, twisting rope. I grabbed Emilius’s torn shirt, shaking him hard enough to make his head knock like a coin in a jar. His heart flagged. Slowed.

Electricity leapt into my hand, ready to zap him back to life if it stopped.

“Leihani,” Kye gurgled. “It’s all right. I’m okay.”

No, he wasn’t okay. He’d said the same thing on Darkness’s Hourglass, when we thought Captain Kriska would kill us both. And in Winterlight, when I’d lost him between the shouts and blades and bodies of soldiers, he’d said those words.

It’s all right. I’m okay.