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The red dims, vanishing from his eyes, leaving his crystal blue depths clear and bright.
Using my teeth to pull the cork from the vial, I spit it out and lean forward, pressing the brim to his mouth with a hand shaking. Alaric wriggles underneath me, gaining strength—the nightshade won’t last much longer.
I set my palm on the stone next to his head to steady myself.
His lips refuse to part. Lowering my face, I kiss the corner of his mouth, and whisper,“Please.”
Alaric stops fighting just long enough for me to wedge the edge of the vial between his lips. I tilt the glass, pouring the syrupy liquid into his mouth, only a few drops manage to escape.
The empty vial slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. I cover his mouth and lean forward to keep him from spitting it out. Alaric’s throat bobs as he swallows the potion.
The anger and rage slowly fade from his eyes. After a minute, I let my hand fall away.
“Alaric?” I breathe his name.
Other than the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, he doesn’t move. I roll off and lie on the cold stone floor next to him. Waiting and watching.
A single twitch of his shoulder sets off a chain reaction. Muscle spasms roll down his body, back arching and neck straining. I reach for him but am helpless to do anything in my state.
An eternity seems to pass before he goes still. Alaric’s head lulls to face me. Then slowly, he brings his hand up toward my face. His knuckles brush against my cheek, and then his eyes slide closed.
There’s no movement in his chest, and my own heart skips several beats.
“Alaric?” I say, but there’s no response. “Alaric…Alaric?” My voice becomes shrill as panic sets in.
For a moment, the pain lancing its way up my arm is forgotten as I push myself up and shake him. When he doesn’t respond, I bring my hand up, cringing, and slap his face. “You have to wake up!” I bite out. My vision blurs as fresh tears spring up.
His skin is cold to the touch.
Like death.
He can’t be dead. He can’t be.
The cracking inside my chest is deafening as I begin to shatter. What little hope I manage to cling to, slips through my fingers as the tether of Alaric’s mark is stretched taut, unraveling.
No… this isn’t supposed to happen.I want to scream the words, but my lungs refuse to work.
The witch had promised… she promised, but it was all a lie. Her potion broke Elizabeth’s hold, but it also killed him.
With shaking, half numb fingers, I clasp his hand and curl into his side. As the last thread of the mark snaps, my breath is stolen from my lungs. My body shudders, barely able to take the pain as his power is ripped from my veins. I tighten my hold until the cold, bitter dark swallows me up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Clara
Fiery pain slicesthrough the dark, dragging me back from the brink of nothingness. I suck in a dry, painful gasp of air and open my eyes. Della glares intently at my arm, tying the last of the stitches.
“You idiot girl, you nearly let yourself be killed,” she hisses.
Cassius cradles my head in his lap. “What happened?”
I turn my head toward Alaric’s still form. Hot tears spill down my face as I choke back a sob. “It didn’t work,” I rasp through my burning throat.
Cassius lifts me to stand then guides me into Della’s arms.
“Leave me—”
“You can’t stay here, Clara,” Cassius says.
