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“No. Az, why?” My head is still spinning as I stare up at my friend. Is he this obsessed with me, that if he can’t have my heart, no one can?
“You two really thought you could fool me, didn’t you? Thought you could convince me you’d really hurt yourself. I’m not stupid, Asha. When will you learn that I’m not the foolish boy you’ve always thought me to be?”
My mouth works, but I find I can’t get words to form. Not when blood is running up my throat, soaking the back of my tongue, staining my teeth red and spilling from my mouth.
My knees hit the floor, my fingers grasping at the hilt of Az’s dagger in disbelief.
“You fool. I’m going to kill you,” Kiran growls. “Asha, Asha, please. Please, don’t go. Please.”
I want nothing more than to comfort my husband, but the room is swaying, black dots swarming my vision.
“Come on, Asha,” Az sings. It takes me a moment to realize he isn’t looking at me. “Come out into the open, why don’t you? I know you’re hiding somewhere, whispering this version of yourself into reality, drawing on the magic from the Rip.”
When no one appears, Az has the audacity to look inconvenienced. He snaps his fingers at a pair of nearby guards, who go on a search. A search for me, I realize.
“No,” I find the will to say, even around the blood streaming from my mouth.
I’m dying, and I have only one chance to make my death count.
“Az, it’s me.”
He scoffs, his beautiful features warped in derision. “I saw you, Asha—the way you acted in the compartment behind the library. The idea had occurred to me too, you know. I felt it, too—the way the entire world seemed to quake when the Rip was opened. Your magic did it so forcefully. I couldn’t help but wonder if it created fissures. Fissures that might burst into canyons, especially where the deposits of other-realm magic were the strongest. Much like the scrolls hidden away behind the library. I had them burned, of course, but it hit me when you were down there that it wasn’t simply the scrolls you were looking for. You were confirming there had been another Rip, another fissure between worlds from which you could draw upon. You’ve been having nightmares about it, talking in your sleep, screaming so loud I can hear you from the other side of the wall. I had hoped…” Az swallows, somehow looking pained. “I had hoped we were making progress. I couldn’t stand to gag you again.” He turns his head away from me, as if to remind himself that the true me isn’t dying on the floor in front of him.
“I’ve been waiting, ever since, for you to summon your power in an attempt to trick me. But all is well. Once this male”—he kicks at Kiran again, who hardly seems to notice. His eyes lock upon mine, full of anguish—“is out of the way, perhaps his power over you will fail, and we can finally go back to how things used to be.”
“How things used to be,” I whisper.
Az can’t seem to help but look at me, even if he truly believes I’m not real. His eyes are wide with hope. For a moment, he almost looks like the boy I knew and loved. The boy who dangled his feet off rooftops and dreamed of a better world.
“There’s no Rip, Az. Not here,” I rasp. “You’re right. I was looking, hoping for one. But it was a false hope. I have no power here, other than my stories.”
Az’s amused grin almost falters. “This version of you will fade to ash soon enough. You might as well come out from where you’re hiding.”
Just then, both guards return, signaling they found no one waiting close by.
“Perhaps she’s stationed by the Rip itself. Check the compartment behind the library. Bring a scribe to open it,” says Az. The guards looked hesitant, but after exchanging concerned glances, they do as told.
“Az,” I whisper, hardly able to maintain consciousness now. He isn’t the one I wanted to be speaking to in my last moments alive, but if there’s a single drop of truth in Blaise, I have one shot to make this count. “I’m scared,” I say, because it’s true. Because I don’t want to die, not like this. Not in front of Kiran, who’s known so little aside from death and destruction.
I don’t want to die, but it seems I don’t have a choice.
Even through the shadows encroaching on my vision, I glimpse Az’s confidence falter, if just for a moment.
No, Asha. Please, stay awake. It’s not your time yet, whispers my magic.
I’m not sure I can do that. Now everything is spinning.
No. No, no, no. You’re too young. It’s not time for you yet. You’re supposed to grow old and wrinkled and horribly cynical, hisses my magic.
I’m sorry, I tell him.
That’s not enough, he cries back. Not again, not again, please, not again.
But I can no longer hear my magic.
I can’t hear anything at all.
CHAPTER 113
