65. Krait
Chapter 65
Krait
C aym’s hold on me cracked.
I lifted the dark, airless prison of vines that held the others in the pit. Their gasps of relief sounded around me as I turned toward the podium. The Origin of Death had plummeted to ground level. Moirai swarmed us.
I needed to get to Caym, to let my Shadows tear him apart before he was able to get hold of me again. The ground shook. The amphitheater’s marble walls swayed.
Cassidee’s Griffith landed with a thud behind her partner. “Wyeth, get on!” she shouted with an outstretched hand. Amara stood at Mattock’s back, fighting off Moirai, and my officers were nowhere to be seen.
Fenris reached Asterie and Hurley, protecting them in a ring of flames from the onslaught of undead.
Then something glimmered above and caught my attention. Something was falling toward Caym.
Someone.
Sources, no.
“Sybilla!”
My hand slammed out; there was no time to craft Shadows to break her fall. It was too late.
She sank the sword deep into the Death Origin’s chest. Caym’s magic erupted out of him, and his skin crumbled like the burning pages of a book—his mouth hung wide before he turned to dust.
An amber blow of smoke knocked Sybilla backward and everyone in the pit off our feet.
It rattled the amphitheater’s already compromised walls.
She’d done it.
I rolled and ended up on my side. With a cough, I looked out into the arena. Every Moirai in the stands and pit began to collapse, disintegrating into heaps of putrid-smelling dust. Half of my realm was gone—sacrificed to Death’s path of destruction.
Groaning, I stood and fought through the settling amber fog, yelling, “Sybilla!”
Falling from that height would be lethal.
I didn’t let myself linger on that thought as debris rained down from the walls. The theater was going to cave in…I needed to find her.
Elsedora ran to me with tear-soaked cheeks.
I waved her away. “Get yourself and everyone out! The walls are coming down.”
We had only minutes before we would be beneath rubble. El ran from me, obeying. I heard her bark orders to the others.
“Sybilla!” The dust kicked up more as marble struck the ground in chunks around me. Fuck.
In the heart-pounding, ear-thudding moments that I couldn’t find my spitfire wife, I prayed to any Source who would listen. “Please,” I cried out.
The woman who I’d just today committed to making my eternity could not be gone so quickly. I longed for her to jab some insult about my incompetence my way or tell me I was insufferable. I’d kill to hear her voice cut through the air.
“Sybilla!”
Finally, I found her.
She’d been thrown against a wall of the pit and lay flat on her stomach in the sand with a gash on her head and her arm twisted back in an unnatural position.
I bolted to her and drew her carefully into my lap. Darkness whisked us out of the amphitheater and onto the streets of Sahlmsara a few blocks away.
So much of my power had been drained, and I slumped over her too-still body. Please breathe.
I trembled and checked her pulse. “Please, Sybilla. Throw some fire at me, stubborn woman...” I could not lose her.
Her blood pumped to her pulse point; it was the most exquisite sensation. Kneeling with her rested across my knees, I rocked forward and back.
“Thank fuck,” I rasped. “You need to wake up…I need you to yell at me for leaving you at the flat.”
Her arm was still cocked at that awful angle, her skin pale as a ghost, her hair lusterless and strewn with marble dust and sand except in the awful places where it was stained with blood.
Tears ran down my dust-stained cheeks as I lifted her up, cradled in my arms, careful not to jostle her broken arm, and stood.
Footsteps shifted the gravel behind me—Elsedora approached with a small party. We were a few blocks from Umber House, and I needed to get Sybilla to a healer. Glancing back, I assessed who she was with Asterie, Fenris, Amara, Hurley followed her.
“Krait!” El sobbed.
“Where’s Wyeth?”
“She flew toward Umber House,” El answered. She gasped and put a hand over her mouth as her gaze found Sybilla. “Is she?”
“No…she’s breathing but we need a healer.” I carefully cradled Sybilla’s head to my chest. “Where is Ryn?”
The way Elsedora’s face fell destroyed me. She sobbed again, before grabbing my arm.
He hadn’t made it.
“No,” I denied.
But Elsedora’s nod confirmed my fears.
“No, El…where is he?”
“He’s gone,” she choked out.
Horrified numbness crept over every inch of me. That couldn’t be. “That can’t be,” I repeated the thought that kept repeating in my head.
My friend could not be gone; we’d just seen each other—minutes, hours ago? My brow pinched, and my tears fell into Sybilla’s hair.
Elsedora winced. “I saw...She saw.” She nudged her chin down at Sybilla as her lower lip trembled.
Fenris hugged Asterie’s shoulders, and her wolf-demon’s head hung low.
“We need to find Wyeth. Asterie, Fen, can you run ahead? I don’t want to jostle her by moving too fast.”
Asterie nodded. “Yes, my King.” She grabbed Fenris’ arm and ushered Hurley away. They ran south toward my home to find the healer. The city around me looked like Luz the day after the attack—upturned and charred.
As marble crumbled from the highest parts of the amphitheater, heavy footfall rounded the corner. Mattock approached us. I shielded Sybilla away from him, fighting back a growl. His mouth fell open upon seeing her in my arms. He was uncuffed, but his eyes shone a warm brown.
“Please, Darvanda.” The young King’s voice wavered. “I just want to see her. Is she alright? Please.”
My knees shook. Nothing would ever be the same for any of us. “You’ll see her when she’s well,” I barked.
The ground rumbled again. We were still too close to the likely fall of the building. City blocks would be destroyed.
Emmerick braced, his fists clenching, and El stopped him with a hand to his chest. “We don’t have time for this. Down, puppy—we need to get her back to the house quickly. Follow us.” She began to guide him by the shoulders, pushing him toward the street parallel to the main canal.
I followed El and Emmerick. The faint feeling of Sybilla’s breath on my tunic sparked a sense of hope. “You don’t get to die on me,” I whispered to her.
We traversed streets of turned-over tents, discarded carts and busted windows. So damned depleted of energy, I grunted, straining to not stumble or lose my footing.
“There was enough time to evacuate—just barely,” Elsedora called out. “We sent everyone to the Plateau.”
The destruction was thankfully isolated to the northern portions of the city, far away from where my people had fled to the south. Relief and guilt were at war within me.
We reached the courtyard. Should the amphitheater fall, we would be out of harm’s way.
Moments later, the crash of the dome crumbling shook the city. A cloud of white dust blasted through the streets, coating every surface.
We rushed into Umber House and closed the door behind us.