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She flinched at my approach, so I jarred to a halt.
“Are you—?” Inquiring if she was well would be the highest insult ever—because she was obviously the most unwell as I’d ever seen her—so I broke the words off, swallowing thickly.
How could anyone do this to such a bright, clever, sweet child?
Her shoulders began to tremble as she watched me, and then she spoke. “You left me,” she accused, her voice small and hopeless. “You left me.”
“I—no.” I shook my head insistently. “I tried to save you. I tried—”
“You didn’t have to save me,” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. “There is no recovering from this miserable life. I just wanted you here. With me. It would’ve eased everything.”
“Sable, I’m sorry. I—”
“Oh, how pathetic,” the king cut in, making a face full of disgust. “The two of you truly did care for each other, didn’t you? And I had such high hopes of making a real man out of you, too, bastard.” He sighed. “Oh well.” With a snap of his fingers, he said, “Kill the girl.”
“No!” I shouted, rushing toward Sable. “Don’t. NO!”
But the guard who’d escorted her into the room was already swinging his battle axe. Diving forward, I plowed into him, tackling him to the floor. A second later, his weapon clattered next to us. Since he landed on the bottom, it took him a second longer than it did me to catch his breath.
Which gave me plenty of time to pull up the sword I’d been carrying and skewer him through. He gasped out his shock, gaping up at me as he clutched the hilt sticking up from his belly, unable to pull it free.
I couldn’t feel any remorse; the man had tried to kill my sister. I bared my teeth at him and snarled, “Burn in hell.”
He choked out a few quick gurgles of surprise, then died with his eyes wide open. Frowning when I realized fresh blood had speckled his face, I squinted and eased closer.
Well, that wasn’t right. I glanced down at his death wound, wondering how the hell his own blood had splattered up onto his cheeks like so. Because with that kind of trajectory, it shouldn’t have.
Wha—?
That’s when I noticed the axe that lay beside us. It too was covered with thick, inky red; the blade tip appeared to have been dipped in it.
My lips parted. Whirling toward my sister, I found her on her knees not far away, her mouth gaping as if she were trying to speak—or breathe—with both her hands clutching the front of her throat.
Between her fingers, blood welled.
“No,” I croaked. “No, no, no, no.”
Scrambling to her on hands and knees, I reached her side a moment later, gripping her shoulder with one hand and covering her fingers with the other to help stanch the flow.
“Sable,” I whispered, looking into her fear-laced eyes. “I—breathe, sister. Just breathe.”
This was my fault. I’d reached the guard in time to keep him from decapitating her fully, but he’d still managed to slice open her jugular. Now, her death wouldn’t be quick and painless but full of terror and agony.
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, pressing my forehead to hers, tears spilling from my eyes. She pulled one hand from her throat, both our grips slippery and tainted, and she gripped the front of my shirt, hanging on to me. Just wanting me with her.
“I’m here,” I promised.
She mouthed the words thank you and a tear dribbled down her cheek. Then a final tremor went through her as she died in my arms.
“No.” I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my lips to her brow, desperately hoping...
A kiss had saved Nicolette, and I loved Sable just as much as I did Nicolette. It should save her too. But my sister didn’t return. So I moved my mouth to hers, wondering if a resurrection kiss could only work that way.
“Come on, brat,” I encouraged, kissing her again. “Don’t you dare fucking leave. It’s not your time. It’s not—”
I wheezed out my misery as my chest seized. Watching her face, I waited a moment, because there’d been a short delay after I’d kissed Nicolette before she’d come back.
But half a minute passed, and Sable remained dead.
