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The fey were known for being incredibly precise with the words they used, especially when bargaining, but djinn? This was their game, and they could lie. From what I knew, even the fey didn’t like to bargain with a djinn. If he agreed to cut my lunar tie, I wasn’t sure what would actually happen. The tie would get cut, but what else?
This was a bad, bad, bad idea, but I didn’t have another one. Just this.
Cosette tugged on my arm, pulling me down to whisper in my ear. “When you ask him to cut the tie, tell him exactly to cut the lunar tie and nothing else. Understand?”
I gave her a nod and turned back to Ziriel.
“You want to know who her father is? You want to know?” Ziriel yelled, getting cheers from everyone in the arena.
It was loud, so loud, and I found myself wanting to cheer him on, too. But my wolf rose up, stopping me from letting the magic threaded through Ziriel’s voice take hold.
I wasn’t sure why Ziriel was getting everyone so riled up to give them information. Why wouldn’t he hold it for himself? But it wasn’t up to me to understand his motivations. All I needed was for him to cut my lunar tie. That was all I cared about.
Ziriel held up his hand, still clutching the bargain, and the room quieted. “You won’t believe that this girl—this golden child—is the daughter of Samael. Poison of God. Archangel of Death.”
I didn’t know much about archons, other than Eli, but I understood Archangel of Death.
Cosette raised her chin, just a bit. I wanted to comfort her or say something but we were watched.
“Enough with your theatrics.” Her voice was proud and confident.
I was there, silently cheering her on and hoping she felt my strength supporting her.
“Are you going to give Christopher Matthews what he wants?”
Ziriel floated over to me. “And what is it that you want in return for this?”
“I want you to cut my lunar tie, but only cut the lunar tie. Nothing else.”
He grinned and the heat from the bodies, and the torches and their awful smoke was suddenly gone. “Is that all?” His eyes flared brighter, the red consuming the blacks of his pupils.
This was bad. “Yes.”
“Done.”
I didn’t have time to think, breathe, move. One second he was standing in front of me. The next, pain ripped through my whole body.
At first, I thought it was the severing of the tie—to change something so elemental to me…it had to come at a price—but then Cosette was screaming. The sound coming from her didn’t sound human, but full of rage and anger and such sorrow that I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe.
I felt a drip. Hot, wet heat coming from the pain in my chest, and I looked down.
The carved, twisted golden hilt of Ziriel’s sword was sticking out of my chest. Dark blood seeped around it. Spreading fast. Too fast.
And even if I pulled out the sword, I knew I wouldn’t be able to heal it. The blade was hot inside me. Burning, acidic magic wormed its way through me, and my wolf whimpered and disappeared. He was gone. Gone. Forever.
I was broken. I thought this had been the right call, but as I reached for my wolf and couldn’t find him, I knew I’d been wrong.
So fucking wrong.
And this was a magical blade. A supernatural hurt. Something I couldn’t come back from.
Suddenly I was looking up at the ceiling. A bright light falling down to surround me.
I blinked and Cosette appeared above me. Her tears rained down, and I reached up to touch her cheek, but I barely touched before my strength faded and my hand slipped down.
She held my hand there. “Please. No. Please. I’ll pull the sword and I’ll fix this. I can fix this. Just. Just hang on. Van! Van! Help him! Heal him!”
