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My heart lurches at the strained emotion in my men’s voices, and after a second, I can focus on their faces. Brax’s eyes are wide, one brown, one green, taking in every inch of me as I gasp each breath into my lungs. Creed swipes a bloodstained hand down his face as he smiles at me softly. Eldon runs his thumb over my knuckles as he grips my hand, a single tear falling down his cheek, while Zane clears his throat, wagging a finger at me.
“Adjustments are being made to the housemate handbook because I swear to all that is holy, you can’t put me through that again,” he rasps, revealing his true feelings beneath his attempt at making light of the situation.
I frown, rubbing my dry lips together as I try to understand what he’s talking about. The second I try to search in my mind for the last thing I remember, it all comes crashing back to the forefront.
My eyelids slam shut, but it does nothing to eradicate the vision that plays out before me as I helplessly stand frozen in position while Grave plunges a sword through my chest.
“That motherfucker stabbed me,” I blurt as my eyes reopen, and a chuckle from my left catches my attention.
Sebastian.
He looks away quickly, not wanting to anger me, but I can’t say I’m mad. I find my mother beside him, and that’s when I start to get confused again because I’m completely certain that she wasn’t with us when Grave stabbed me. Neither was Rhys, Peta, or Marieta, but here they are, along with…
“Why is papa…”
My words trail off just as quickly as my thoughts and I try to rise enough to shift closer to him, but it takes two attempts before I can make it happen. No one offers me a hint of explanation in that time, which doesn’t sit well with me.
I sense it the moment I press a hand to his chest and I gasp, digging deep into my magic to set it to work, but nothing happens. I try again, and again, and again, to no avail, and when I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder, dread fills my limbs.
“Raven, your hair is black.” I glance back, surprised to find it’s Rhys attempting to offer me comfort.
“I’m aware,” I state, likely harsher than is needed. The man has done nothing wrong, but the emotions bubbling inside of me make it impossible for me to control my tone.
He thankfully doesn’t take it personally as he offers me a weak smile. “I’m sure you are, but I’m getting the sense you’re not aware of what that means.” I gulp, shaking my head. He’s right. I don’t have a fucking clue, and I get the feeling I’m not going to like what he has to say next, either. He glances at his son before clearing his throat and looking back at me. The discomfort is evident enough to have unease rippling through me. “Research shows that when a necromancer brings someone back from the dead, it leaves an imprint in some way, a marker of the power used and measurement of what’s left. In your case; your hair. Which is why your hair has progressed in segments with each time your magic has been used.”
I nod in understanding, still not able to shake the weariness coating my skin. “What does it mean when it’s all black, Rhys?” I ask, my gut knowing where this is going, but I need to hear someone say it. Unfortunately for him, it’s his unwanted responsibility.
“It means you can no longer harness the power to bring someone back from the dead.”
My heart seizes, my body freezing as I gape at him. I knew he was going to say it, but it doesn’t stop the surprise from taking over.
I don’t know how I feel about it. The only person I truly wanted to bring back from the dead was Brax. Everyone else has been at someone else’s demand or in honor of a deal I made. My gaze shifts to my brother for a moment, but his face is downcast. He knows. He knows I can’t bring back our father because I brought him back first, staining the rest of my hair black for an eternity.
Pursing my lips, I look back down at my father. “What happened?”
I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t be bothered that my father, that Abel, is dead, but the younger version of myself, the one who didn’t have to question and second guess everyone’s intentions, feels every ounce of pain.
“He healed you,” my mother croaks, her bottom lip wobbling as she tries to smile, but it falls flat.
“You were on the brink of death,” Brax adds, rolling his shoulders back as he clears his throat. “He told us it would drain him, that it would take everything, and I told him to do it.” My eyes widen, but I don’t see an ounce of regret in his eyes. “He said he loves you, he’s sorry, and that you have to stay strong.” He nods, more to himself than me, confirming that he relayed a message.
“I don’t know how to feel,” I murmur, refusing to look at my mother or brother.
“It’s okay, Raven. You’re not supposed to know right now. You haven’t had the easiest relationship with him, a lot of which has unfortunately been outside of his control, but the pain has been everlasting. Let’s just make sure he didn’t die in vain. You don’t have to love him back or even forgive him, but I think you can honor his wish of remaining strong. Then you can process everything else later.” My mother swipes at her face, ridding her cheeks of the tears as she smiles at me. It’s stronger this time, and one which I manage to return.
Rhys squeezes my shoulder, but he looks around the group as he speaks. “I know dads are dropping like flies to save their children, but I think I speak on both my and Peta’s behalf when I say I hope we’ve reached the limit of that today. Not that I wouldn’t die for my son, or any of you for that matter, but they don’t get to take any more lives from us. Agreed?”
I gulp, my throat burning from the ache as I nod. Rising to my feet, I cringe at the blood still staining my clothes. “You’re right. They’ve taken enough. They don’t get anything else.”
“What do we do now?” Marieta asks, reaching for Brax’s arm, and he steps into her half embrace. I watch as her eyes fall closed, relief washing over her. I have no idea what that’s about, but the smile on her face calms something inside of me.
“We have to end this war before it leaves the academy. We have about an hour before they leave and descend on Haven’s Court,” Rhys states, fixing the lapels of his suit as if he’s talking about a business meeting instead of a freaking battle.
“Will they really need to battle if they have the aid of The Monarchy? Why not just organize a coup and save on the bloodshed?” Zane scrubs the back of his neck, looking to his father for an answer, but it’s Sebastian who clears his throat to speak.
“Because they will want to make a statement. The more blood and death there is, the more fear he creates. Besides, they don’t have the backing of the entire Monarchy, so it’s going to be a battle either way.”
Peta nods in agreement with Sebastian’s assessment. “Their numbers are growing, with or without the other students. We need to throw everything we have at them. Even if it’s only those of us here who do it. We need the realm to see that their actions will not be tolerated.”
