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I took a deep breath. “How bad is it?” I trusted her to give me an honest answer.
She bit her cheek. “It is the hardest thing I have ever done.”
My stomach plummeted to the ground. I’d been hoping for a better answer than that.
Riven’s shadows curled around my legs and he squeezed my hand. “This is your decision,diizra. Syrra and I will not judge you if you decide to return to Myrelinth.”
I looked up at the softness in Riven’s violet gaze and knew that he wouldn’t think any less of me. But that wasn’t true for myself. I knew my odds of surviving the war were slim. Damien liked to toy with me, but eventually the toying would end and he would want my head. I’d be damned if I died with wine in my veins because Damien had set a curse upon me.
If I lived, I wanted to live in peace. And if I died, I wanted to die sober and protecting my kin.
I had gotten through it before knowing that’s what the Shades needed from me and with the support of Hildegard. I squeezed Riven’s hand and nodded at Syrra. I had more support than I ever had before, and while I was terrified at what the next three days held, that truth gave me comfort.
“Let’s begin.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
MY BLOOD WAS MADEof liquid flame. Every pulse stoked the fire until I could see my flesh bubbling but somehow not burning. I screamed into the darkness, wishing for the pain to stop. I didn’t care if the only way to end it was death, I would gladly take that final reprieve to end my suffering.
My throat ached as I shrieked but then the darkness swirled and took shape around me. Syrra had warned me that this final round would be the hardest. I wouldn’t only face physical pain under the last elixir, but every kind of pain my mind could muster. The part of myself that didn’t want to give up the wine would fight me with everything it had and if it succeeded in tempting me, I would have to start the entire process again.
I didn’t have the strength for that. Or the time. The Shades were waiting for me.
I gritted my teeth and prepared myself for whatever was about to come. My vision blurred but I could see the shadowy figures that had haunted me for decades. The children I was forced to bring to the Order and then couldn’t keep alive. The families that I had been ordered to destroy and did to keep my title. Every one of my names dripped from my skin and transformed into a shadowy silhouette to witness what I deserved.
A goblet dropped in front of me. The lush scent of wine filled my nostrils and with it came a momentary lapse of pain. My body thrashed along the ground, inching closer to it without control. I kept my hands back, waiting for the vision to fade.
It’s not real.
It’s not real.
It’s not real.
I chanted it over and over again to myself, but it was hard to believe when the pain was undeniable. My mind, my body, every part of myself wanted to give in to the craving, but that wine was just part of the illusion. If I couldn’t say no to that, I would never say no when true hardships fell on me again.
I clenched my jaw, shutting my eyes so I didn’t have to see the burgundy liquid swirling in the large cup.
“But this is real,” a voice I’d almost forgotten whispered beside me.
Tears welled in my eyes before I even opened them.
Brenna stood in front of me. Her blond waves framed her face and shoulders as she kneeled. She wasn’t wearing the black garb of an initiate or the bloodstained clothes Damien had been making me see for weeks. She wore a long Elvish robe, in a petal blue that brought out the honey color of her eyes. It was what I would have wanted for her, if we ever had reached the Faeland together.
She cupped my cheek and wiped the tears away. I whimpered at her touch. It was too real. Not cold like a memory or burning likemy flesh, but the soft lukewarm temperature her skin had always had. I closed my eyes and I could smell the brine and salt wafting from her hair.
When I opened them again she was smiling. The scars down her eyes tugged along her dimples in the same way they had whenever she laughed. My stomach clenched, remembering how many afternoons I had passed with that being my only goal. To do something, say something, that would pull that fiery song from her chest.
Brenna picked up the goblet and held it between her palms. I thought she was going to carry it away but instead she held the brim to my lips.
“Drink.”
I pulled back from her but she only leaned forward with the cup.
“Drink.”
I shook my head and my heart raced against my chest. “No. I can’t. Iwon’t.”
Brenna’s face darkened. She stood with the goblet in her hand, staring down at me like I was a worm struggling through the dirt. “I thought you’d do anything for me.”
