Page 95 of House of the Iron Reaper

I tip my head up to the open ceiling. It is a beautiful night, clear and speckled with stars. Deyanara looks up as well, and we lean shoulder-to-shoulder.

“I came back to the Rites to face my fear,” I tell her. “That’s the trick. It cannot follow you if you’re not going anywhere.”

Deyanara does not reply. She often doesn’t. I know she believes she is stupid and slow but I cannot agree—there is a glimmer behind her eyes that speaks to her true nature, her true strength. Deyenara does not forget. Her own failings are always fresh in her mind.

But now there are other, better things to crowd out the missteps. My words, too, I hope.

We sit together quietly but I do not mind the quiet. I know she will remember all our talks—I just pray they help.

Deyanara tips her head up, eyes fixed on the night sky.

Chapter 48

Deyanara

The sky looks back at me. A single raindrop lands on my cheek. I go still.

The doomkin crawls up my jaw with icy fingers and I do not fight it. I squeeze my eyes shut and clamp my lips together, breathing once, deep, through my nose.

I am not going anywhere.

The doomkin swallows me whole. I am submerged in congealed blood, thick and ice cold. I have one full breath in my lungs and keep my eyes and mouth firmly shut. The doomkin slips into my nose and I kill the panic that shoots up my spine.

Blindly, I feel around for the skull face. Blood undulates around me, tightening around my throat. Everything in my body screams at me to thrash around, to fight my way out. I do not.

Something hard brushes over my leg. My mind swims and I feel dizzy even with my eyes squeezed closed. I do not have long. I reach down and feel for the skull mask. It slips past my fingers.

I’m running out of air, my lungs burning, my mind screaming.

I am not going anywhere.

The skull mask slides past my hip—I grab it with both hands. The doomkin squeezes my throat tighter, tighter. With everything I have, I crush the skull between my hands.

The doomkin falls apart. I surface with a spluttering gasp and immediately roll over and retch old blood. The crushed skull is still in my hands, sharp against my palm. I suck in a desperate breath and cough up more blood, hoping to all Saints it is not my own.

My ears clear and the crowd roars around me. I scrub at my eyes and barely smear the blood out of my vision. My lashes clump together and everything is tinted red. My lungs ache. I stumble to my feet, still wheezing, still holding the broken skull.

I did it.

The high of the crowd is dizzying, and my legs sway beneath me. I take a shaky step away from the doomkin. Is this what a true win feels like? Nerves alight, heart beating a fist against my ribs, mouth numb. My body feels odd, both cold as ice and hot as a Sunwake day.

Is this what it feels like to come back from drowning?

No. The thought is as clear as a bell in my mind. This is something else.

In the distance, through bleary, bloody eyes, I see Novalie and Ronan running towards me. The world tilts on its axis.

And then I see nothing.

Chapter 49

Novalie

No, no, not again, not again. Icy fear grips my lungs as I watch her. She’s almost frozen, hand still in the air, grin on her face. I start running.

Deimos, dropping as though he is a puppet with his strings cut.

I’m already screaming when Deyanara hits the ground.