Page 167 of Black Sea

The hand that had subdued, possessed, loved me.

The hand that, in the end, had stabbed me to death.

I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe he had chosen to give up Calien’s Crystal, which would soon disintegrate after my passing.

That he had chosen to live a life without me.

Instead, he had found the strength to accept it. He had hesitated only for a moment, tricking me into thinking I had beaten his darkness and gotten my Amlach back, then he had made his decision.

And now my own blade was inside me, angled upward, toward my lungs. Toward my heart.

Suddenly, Mornon viciously twisted it into my flesh. I let out an inarticulate sound of unbearable pain, instinctively clutching the armor plates on his biceps as I spat a crimson gush across his chest.

Startled, I looked into his eyes, which burned once more, and gazed at him with terrible sadness. He peered down at me with an expression that formed a kaleidoscope of emotions: anger, regret, hatred, desire, disappointment.

“We could have had it all . . .” he whispered. He raised his free hand to trace the outline of my wounded face, his fingertips following the path to the blood trickling from my chin. He dipped his pads into the red liquid, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating like a ravenous raptor’s. “But you lied to me.” He grabbed my chin violently, pulling my face closer to his to drink every gurgling whimper that escaped my lips. “You said you would choose me.”

Seeing tears streaming down my cheeks like the blood that was wetting his hand in gushes, Mornon dropped his forehead against mine and pinched his eyes closed with a barely noticeable grimace.

A strangely familiar warmth, but now much stronger, spread through my abdomen.

Mornon straightened, looking down at me harshly. “But you didn’t.”

He brutally yanked the dagger out of my guts and shoved me off the balcony.

92

I crashed loudly on the paved ground, hitting my jaw and biting my tongue. I waited a few seconds, convinced I would slip into darkness. But when I realized I was still oddly alert, I pushed myself up on my palms with a groan and then vomited a red spurt.

I watched my blood on the snow.

There should be so much more. I should be lying in a vermilion pool, in the absolute silence of death. Instead, the sound of my own breathing rang in my ears.

Terrified, I pressed one hand against my belly. I felt a slimy coating on the leather robe beneath the armor and the cut in the thick fabric from the blade.

But there was no open wound.

It . . . it wasn’t possible. Neither elven nor witch magic could heal a fatal injury. Only one person, throughout the ages of this world, had been blessed with that gift.

My grandmother.

“Ah, Nauriel, Nauriel . . .” Mornon sighed mockingly, appearing at the edge of my visual field.

I watched him carefully as he moved calmly in front of me, peering down at me with endless superiority. The small, cocky smile on his lips confirmed what we had always feared after he took the Crystal from its former keeper.

“No . . .” I said in a breathless rage.

Mornon slightly canted his head to the side in an even more derisive manner. “Did you really think that the entire time the Crystal had been in my hands, I hadn’t been able to eradicate even a shred of Calien’s power?”

He rotated his right wrist as he lifted his hand, and I widened my eyes at the sight of the filaments of light swirling around his fingers along with his serpentine shadows.

“You have Calien’s healing power,” I gasped in horror.

“The power to snatch back the soul of any living being from death,” he replied, contemplating the black and white spirals that intertwined like two lovers.

My brow pulled. “So why do you still want the Crystal?” I asked, confused. I paused to think. “Is it her power of foresight that you crave?”

“I don’t need it,” he answered flatly, his gaze captivated by the bicolor spirals.