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No.
A savage grin split his face. “Goodbye, little princess. Go meet your sister in hell.” He raised his sword and stopped. His eye twitched, and he coughed. A trail of blood seeped from a small cut on his cheek—I hadn’t missed after all. His sword clanged against the earth, and wide-eyed he dropped to his knees before he crashed to the earth and everything fell silent.
Icouldn’tstopcrying.I’d dragged myself away from the assassin's corpse and back to my sister’s soulless body. I don’t know how long I sat with her cradled to my chest, rocking back and forth and sobbing. I couldn’t even acknowledge Judex when he returned to my side, covered in splatters of crimson. By the time shouts filled the air, I was drenched in Tarra’s blood.
“She’s here!”
“Princess, are you all right?” a distant voice asked, strong hands grasping my shoulders, trying to pry me away.
“No!” I held Tarra tighter, only half aware of the hall crowded with frantic guards and more golems.
“Princess—”
“I can’t leave her!” I yelled.
Red hair and worried green eyes entered my vision. Marshal gripped my shoulder. “You have to let her go.”
“No,” I choked out, burying my face in her blood matted hair.
I sensed someone else beside me, but didn’t look up to see who’d rested their hand on my shoulder.
“We need to get her out of here and take her to the healers,” Marshal murmured to whomever it was. “I’m unsure if she’s hurt.”
The person he addressed didn’t respond, but arms threaded around me, lifting me from the floor. I grappled to hold on to Tarra but wasn’t strong enough, and she fell from my clutch.
“No, please no!” Panic seized me, and I bucked against my captor, flailing as a broken cry escaped my throat. I couldn’t explain my irrational need to stay by her side, as if there were anything else I could do for her. I just knew that when I left, that would be it, the end. I would never see her again, and that thought crushed me like an avalanche of bricks on my chest.
“Your Majesty, it’s okay,” a voice murmured. “I’ve got her.”
I stilled, focusing through my blurred vision on a young man in a black uniform with golden curls and sad eyes. . . the color of honey. He crouched beside Tarra and brushed her tangled hair from her face before lifting her into his arms. It was him—the man Tarra had described—the man she would never get to be with.
Something shattered within me, and sobs continued to wrack my body. “I’m so sorry.”
The young man ducked his head, turning to take Tarra away, but not before I caught the shine of tears glistening his eyes. Unable to bear my grief any longer, I turned into the arms of the man still holding me and buried my face in his tunic. The arms tightened, holding me closer. Delirious, I was barely aware that we were moving as he carried me away from the scene of horror. The gentle motion of my rescuer’s gait slowly lulled me into a sense of peace, and with each passing step, my sobs subsided. A few moments later, I took a shuddering breath and finally pulled away. Still numb from my ordeal, I wasn’t surprised to find Ryker’s gold eyes staring down at me, although the concern there was a bit disconcerting.
Exhaustion weighing on me, I didn’t even care if he hated me and dropped my head onto his shoulder. So close, I noticed faint scaring around his throat, jagged lines criss-crossing the circumference—almost like he’d been strangled with a piece of sharp wire. Was that why he couldn’t talk? Too tired to care, I focused past him and found us surrounded by a circle of golems, Judex at the forefront. The cavern walls and ceiling widened as he carried me across the main cavern leading us to the stairs and back up into the palace.
Motion over Ryker’s shoulder caught my eye, and I dragged my head up to find a group of guards gathering around something on the cave floor. Ryker pivoted away, repositioning me in his arms to hide my view, but it was too late. I’d already seen enough. Seen the wrinkled scared face of Granny Fontaine, her mouth contorted into an eternal scream, as a bloody hole marked the place where her remaining eye had once been.
17
Unanswered Questions
Bloodsaturatedthewater,turning it crimson as Ryker followed the healer’s instructions and lowered me into the bath, still fully clothed.
“That’s it,” the head healer murmured. “Nice and easy.” I barely registered the bustling infirmary; the blue smocks of the healers all blurred into one as they rushed around me.
The warmth of Ryker’s body against mine disappeared—though one hand remained on my shoulder—and the lukewarm water leached what little heat remained, making me whimper. I wanted to be back in his arms.
The healer leaned in. “Princess, where are you—”
“Kaleah!” My sister’s voice cut her off, followed by hurried footsteps. She appeared in my peripheral, and knelt beside the bath. “Are you okay?” Her thin arms threaded around my shaking body, but I didn’t look up. I couldn’t tear my gaze from the blood swirling through the water. Tarra’s blood.
“Get away from her, Princess,” the healer commanded. “We still don’t know if she’s injured and you’re ruining your clothes—”
“You think I care about clothes?” Cassie snarled. “My sister—your future empress—is sitting in a pool of blood!”
“I’m not hurt,” I muttered—wanting their voices to stop.
