Page 125 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“No.” Tears stream down my face, and I taste salt as I clench his hand hard. “You fight. You hear me? You have to fucking fight this.”

He reaches up with his free hand and wipes at my cheek with his thumb. “I am fighting,” he says. “I’m losing.”

Something breaks open in my chest. “No. Dammit, no. I didn’t survive everything I’ve survived just to lose you now. You don’t get to leave me. You don’t get to⁠—”

I can’t finish. I’m sobbing now, and he pulls me down to him, his arms coming around me with a strength I didn’t think he still had.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice rough against my ear. “You’re going to be okay. With or without me, you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to be okay without you.”

“I know.” He strokes my hair, and I feel him shaking—from pain or fear or both. “But you will be. Because you’re stronger than you know. Stronger than I am.”

I pull back to look at him. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” His golden eyes hold mine, fever-bright and fierce. “You have power, Cora. Real power. Deep down, you know what you are. Who you are. The Emperor’s blood runs through you, and that’s not nothing. Hell, it’s everything.”

I start to answer, but he keeps going, his grip on me tightening. “But Cora—listen to me. Don’t trust Adric. Whatever he offers you, whatever he promises—don’t fall for his charms. He wants only what’s best for Adric. Always. Everything he does, every move he makes, it’s for him. Not for you. Not for anyone else.”

“Chase.”

“Promise me.” His voice is urgent now, cutting through the haze of fever. “Promise me you won’t trust him. No matter what he says. No matter how good it sounds.”

I nod, my throat tight. “I promise.”

His entire body seems to sag with relief. “Promise me you’ll learn to use your power. Don’t be scared of it. Trust it. Griff will help you. You’ll find others. Don’t let the barriers fall.”

“Stop.” My voice shakes. “Don’t talk like you’re dying.”

“I am dying. It turns out immortality can end. Who knew?” He takes my hand, his grip so weak it makes me want to weep. “Or maybe it can’t. Maybe someday, we’ll find each other again.”

I can barely see him through my tears, and I gasp, choking on my sobs, wishing I could cure him as easily as he pulls a blade from the sky.

“You have so much power, Cora. Use it. Trust yourself. Be strong. You’ll be fine without me.”

“Stop.” I’m crying again, harder now. “Stop talking like you’re already gone.”

“I’m not gone.” He pulls me down for a kiss, and I taste salty tears—mine or his, I don’t know. “I’m right here. Right now.”

“Then stay here.” I kiss him back desperately, trying to pour everything I feel into it—love and terror and refusal and need. “Stay with me.”

“Come here,” he says roughly, and I do. I ease onto the bed beside him, and his hands find me even through the pain, pulling me close. We kiss like we’re drowning, like we’re already saying goodbye, and I hate it. I hate that this might be the last time. I hate that the venom is winning and there’s nothing I can do.

Except there has to be something. There has to be.

His hands are on my skin, sliding under fabric, and heat blooms between us despite everything. Despite the poison and the pain and the fear. Because this is us, and we’re still here, and I need him to know.

“I love you,” I whisper against his mouth.

“I have loved you forever,” he says back. “I never thought I could love you even more. But I can. I do.”

His fingers tease between my legs, and I whimper. “Chase, no. You’re hurt.”

“I’m more than hurt,” he says. “I’m dying. But I need you before I go.”

I want to run from the room. To hide in a corner and weep. Instead, I let him undress me, then help him slide out of his clothes, grateful the painkillers seem to be doing their job. I’m careful, though, but there’s nothing careful in the way he touches me, like he’s memorizing every inch, like he needs this as much as I do. Considering how hard he is, I think he does. I hate knowing that loving him like this might hurt him, but I still want it. And I hate myself a little bit for that, too.

“I won’t survive losing you,” I whisper.