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Ash shuddered, then kissed me hard and quick, leaving my lips numb. “So don’t die.”
I stared at him as he drew his head back and lifted his wrist once more. A…a weak laugh left me. “Don’t die?”
“Yes. Exactly that. Don’t fucking die,” he repeated as if that were the simple fix. His eyes held mine. “Fuck the greater good, Sera.”
“Fuck the greater good,” I mumbled instead of screaming as I’d done before. The embers hummed throughout me. “Because we aren’t…”
“We aren’t good, liessa.”
“But you are.”
“Not without you,” he said. “Not without you.”
I saw his lips part. He tore into his wrist, ripping the skin open. Then I saw the shimmer of his blood coursing down his arm.
Shadows crept into my vision again, the stolen strength fading. As he brought his wrist down, I knew it would likely be the end of me—the end of the realms and the end of him. He would regret this. At some point, before it all ceased to exist, he would.
But his blood hit my lip, warm and tingling, igniting either the embers or instinct. My mouth opened. Sweet and smoky blood reached my tongue. There was no riot of sensations, no shock to the senses. I was too gone for that, but my body reacted on instinct. Or the embers did.
I swallowed.
His blood coursed down my throat, hot and thick as Ash pressed the gaping wound to my mouth. I drank.
I drank until my throat no longer worked. I swallowed until I could no longer feel his blood running down my throat. I…I felt nothing. Not warmth. Not coldness.
The strangest thing happened then. An unending tide of memories came at me in waves.
Me as a pale-haired child, staring at the painting of my father and finally understanding where my freckles had come from. My mother’s cold stare that used to cut so deeply and then only left me feeling nothing. But then I fell into a memory of when I was…nine or ten? It had been at night, after I’d spent the day training with Holland and eating my supper alone. I’d gone into the garden to sit near the silvery-green bushes with their purplish-blue spikes of flowers. I’d liked the way they smelled because…
They smelled of Momma.
A soft footstep against the gravel had me twisting around on the bench.
Momma walked alone under the glow of the hanging lanterns, her pale hair swept up in a twist Odetta could never force mine into.
I went completely still and as silent as a spirit, just as Sir Holland had taught me. Momma didn’t see me. She was too busy looking up at the sky, and I didn’t think I was supposed to draw her attention when we were outside of our lessons. She never seemed happy when I did.
Momma never seemed happy.
Not even after marrying King Ernald.
King Ernald seemed happy. He snuck me chocolates when he passed me in the halls.
Squeezing my legs together, I clamped my mouth shut so I didn’t breathe too loudly. I didn’t want to upset her. I wanted her to be proud of me. My chin lifted. I would make her proud, but I…I wanted her to see me. To talk with me like she did with Ezmeria and Tavius. She didn’t speak of duty to them. She talked about silly things like—
“I know you’re there, Seraphena.”
My lips came unstuck, making a popping sound as my gaze flew to her. “I’m sorry.”
“You are?” She stood a few feet back, her hands clenched over her pale blue gown, and her body as stiff as mine. “What are you sorry for?”
“I…” I wasn’t sure, exactly. I’d said it because I felt as if I should. I said things like that a lot.
“It’s of no consequence.” Her gaze shifted from mine to the flowers. The lanternlight shone off her…damp cheek. “I didn’t know you came here.”
Was she crying? I watched her come forward, her gown whispering silently over the pebbles and grass. “I like the way it smells.”
A strange laugh left her. It sounded a little mean and sad. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
