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BLAISE
I don’t watch Asha as she falls.
Instead, I watch Kiran.
I arrive too late to save her, to warn her. Kiran’s face darkens in anguish. There’s horror in his expression, the deep, agonizing loss that clouds his features, as his future is ripped away from him.
Her death wasn’t part of the plan. When I spoke with Dinah, it was because the part of me who knew just how paranoid Az could be had worried he would already have a plan in place in case Kiran tried to use his powers against him.
I thought we could use that against Az.
Asha’s involvement was supposed to be the backup plan in case we were caught.
She’d misunderstood and thought I wanted for us to get caught.
I can see now the path her mind took.
Asha’s plan was to feed Az a high, just so he’d have a longer way to fall. Just so the sorrow would sting all the worse once he realized he had lost her.
She’d dangled hope of winning back her love in front of his face, just before she faked her death.
I’d only wanted Asha to be prepared if things went poorly.
But Asha had treated the escape attempt as if it were our only shot.
I recognize Kiran’s pain, that agony, and I watch it from afar, feeling the loss between us go taut.
He doesn’t look at me, probably doesn’t even realize I’ve slipped into the throne room, that I’ve been hiding behind the velvet curtains.
The moment will come when he looks for me, though. When it settles over him that this is entirely my fault.
It won’t take him long.
It’s always my fault.
Something flares within me, grasping for that feeling, but no…
No. Asha knew what she was risking. It was her decision to put herself in harm’s way, not mine.
Neither of us could have seen this coming. The plan should have worked. Amity’s ressuroot should have worked.
I grasp against the cold marble wall, allowing the chill to stabilize me.
Az was the one to throw that dagger, not me.
Derek led me into that pantry, not me.
I swallow, then I do the only thing I can do.
Kiran lunges for Asha. At least Asha found a way to convince Az to unbind him. Az is prepared, his other dagger descending upon Kiran, aiming for his throat.
I get there first.
My fist curls around Az’s blade. I feel the sting of singeing flesh, the burn of my own blood against my palm, and instead of ignoring the pain, instead of allowing it to drive me, I channel it.
Az whitens as I wrench the dagger from his grasp and push him up against the wall.
His face warps into a hateful grin, like he knows something I don’t.
