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Figuring out how to wake him up was tougher than I had expected—who knew that no kicking was required and a vase of water would rectify the problem?
Okay, okay . . . I did—I just couldn’t help myself. The little weasel had been a thorn in my side since the day I met him. If it weren’t for one of my prior deals, I would end his immortal life tonight. I had the means to—thanks to this lovely fire.
When Arkynfinallywoke up, he tried to use his magic to fight, but that was a waste of time. My power trumped his easily, and his magic bowed to its superior, leaving him with very little to defend himself with.
“Where is it?” I asked, my fist clenched around Arkyn’s collar as I shoved his head closer to the hungry fire. The white-hot flames chewed up the back half of the tent, cloaking the air with thick, heavy smoke. The flames worked their way forward, nibbling on everything in their path. Even the crimson-colored rugs draped over the plank floors were starting to catch. It wouldn’t take long for them to set the rest of the tent aflame.
“I’m the enforcer of truth. You know I have to answer you honestly, regardless of if I wish to or not. So why don’t you give me a second to breathe? You know damn well that fire is my weakness,” he choked, his hands wrapped around my wrist, trying to push me away.
“Oh, but I would rather make you squirm instead.” I grinned wickedly as I forced him a hair closer. A glowing ember floated overtop. With a gentle nudge of my wind, I corrected its path and made it land right between his eyes.
He let out a hiss, wiggling under my grasp as it singed his skin, permeating the smoke-filled air with a light hint of burning flesh.
“Now, one more time, where is the crown?” I asked, eyeing another floating ember, this one larger than the last.
He squirmed, his teeth doing a piss-poor job of clamping down on his tongue. It slipped free and he answered my question unwillingly. “Therightfulking has it.”
“Fuck,” I growled as I shoved him down. I strode over to the long table and grabbed the edge of it with my hand. Roaring, I tossed it over, paper and man toys scattering everywhere. I turned to Arkyn, my jaw set in steel. “How in the Spirit Realm didheget his hands on it?”
A grin spread across his swollen, bloody face. “Your sister.”
My eyes flared, my shadows slithering around me, begging to rip his throat out—begging to ripherthroat out. I knew her hatred for me ran deep, but this betrayal . . . it was unforgivable. I would deal with her later, but right now, my shadows ached for retribution, and Arkyn just happened to be the closest thing.
Sure, I had made a deal not to kill the God of Truth many, many years ago, but I was not above taking a blade to my skin, cutting that slab of meat and ink straight off and then taking that same bloody blade to his throat. I’d revel in slitting it.
But before I could do that, before I could do anything, my breath was snatched from my chest. Inside, something gripped at my heart, like a hand squeezing the juice out of a lemon before it took the husk to the shredder.
I stumbled backwards, my hand shooting to my chest as I grappled with the cataclysmic pain, wrestling it into submission.
I had felt this before, but this time, it was different.
It was notmyheart breaking.
It was . . .
My head jerked up.
Sage.
Sage
When I realized that his chest was no longer falling, no longer rising, I jerked upright, my hands darting to his face, to his shoulders, gently shaking him, trying to wake him up.
But that was just it, wasn’t it? Kaleb wasn’t sleeping.
My world cleaved, my glass heart struck by a mallet, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. I tipped my head to the starlit sky, cursing it for twinkling on a night such as this and I let out a guttural roar.
Appearing out of nowhere, a raven swooped, talons stretched out as it landed gracefully on the ground. I watched it bobbing as it side-hopped towards me cautiously. I blinked, trying to clear away the film on my eyes created by my tears. It might have been my blurry vision, but it almost seemed like a faint glow illuminated the silhouette of the beautiful bird. This one seemed smaller in size than the ones I had seen before.
It focused on Kaleb, cocking its head from side to side as if it were studying him. It tapped his shoulder with his beak, waiting for a response. By reflex, I swatted at it. It cawed at me. It ruffled its feathers as if I had insulted it, body shaking from side to side before it smoothed them out, each sleek, pristine feather falling dutifully back into place. The raven looked up, its eyes . . . squinting at me. The raven was squinting at me.
I was hallucinating. I had to be.
It cawed again, the sound transitioning into a woman’s voice.“Do not interfere.”
It turned back to Kaleb and tapped his shoulder again. A hole, burning with the brightness of the sun, was born from his chest. I gasped, sheltering my eyes from the bright, vivid light. I peeked between my spread fingers. A glass orb, a bit larger than a marble, raised from the hole. It was beautiful, the colors inside of it swirling together as if they were dancing, a vibrant yellow and a deep, rich brown—the colors of the sun, of tree bark and sunflowers.
The very colors I would choose to explain Kaleb’s personality.
