Chapter 59 Devora
Devora
My hands trembled as I washed them in the water basin, watching flecks of dried blood and mud fall away. I scrubbed them until they were raw. Until the pale skin was bright pink and stinging, and even then, I felt the blood from my shadows lurking just beneath the surface.
Why did they do that? Why did I want them to? I—I murdered all those men. I enjoyed it. I felt powerful. In control. As if it proved I was stronger than the fears I carried with me.
My shadows had never acted like that before.
We moved in tandem; they knew what I wanted before I did, and they reacted the way I needed them to.
But this time it felt like they were controlling me.
They told me what I wanted. They pushed me to the edge and beyond with their vicious little thoughts.
I gripped the porcelain basin, looking up into the mirror on the wall. My skin was sallow, my hair limp and sagging. The beautiful gown I’d worn to the wedding was torn and covered in blood, and a hint of smoke still hovered around my eyes.
I didn’t want to become that. I didn’t want that sick, twisted part of me that relished in bloodshed to ever consume me like that again.
“Devora, darling?” Nox’s hesitant voice came from the door to the bathing chamber. I hastily straightened and wiped my hands as he stepped inside. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I said, then cleared my throat. “How—how is Milo?”
Nox searched my face for a moment. “Not good. I don’t think he’s processed what happened. He’s taking the lead in the hospital wing, even when we’ve told him we have plenty of Alchemists who can help.”
“How many?” I whispered.
He knew what I meant. “Nine in the hospital wing. Everett took a nasty lash to the eye, but he’ll be okay. Two are in critical condition. And three…three didn’t make it. Including Silas.”
I closed my eyes. Three dead. I felt the loss in my core, and I knew the others were taking it even harder.
“How can I help?” I asked, setting the towel down.
“You need to rest, Devora. We don’t know what happened to you out there.”
I was already shaking my head before he finished.
“No, don’t do that. You can’t keep trying to sit me out while the rest of you face the hardships.
I want to help. I need to help.” My voice rose, becoming more desperate.
I looked down at my hands and, for the first time since I’d found them, hoped my shadows stayed hidden.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me. I need to do something. Something to—to—” I cut myself off and balled my hands, tears springing to my eyes.
Nox rushed forward and took me in his arms. “We’ll find a way to stop whatever this is.” His lips pressed into the top of my head. “It’ll be alright, darling.”
I pushed away from him and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “How can it be? Silas is gone. Our people are in danger, and Scarven can break in at any moment. Nothing is alright.”
He stared back at me, and I saw him clearly for the first time. He looked so tired. So empty. I’d been selfish, so focused on my magic and what I’d done, I missed how difficult this was for him. How his own grief was crushing him.
I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb beneath his eye as more tears welled to the surface of mine. “Fates, I’m so, so sorry, Nox,” I whispered. “I know what he meant to you. What they all mean to you.”
He took a shuddering breath, and his shoulders fell as his head dipped.
I pulled him against me and wrapped my arms around his neck.
His body felt so large next to mine, but his muscles relaxed as he sank further into me.
He was always the one to comfort me. To be my rock when the world became too much to bear. I wanted to be that for him too.
“It’s not your fault,” I murmured, running my fingers through his hair. After our conversation before the wedding, I knew where his mind would go. He and I were like that, in a way. Always wearing the blame. Always letting the guilt seep in and corrupt us. “There’s no way you could have known.”
“I should’ve stayed.” His voice rumbled through me as his forehead pressed into my neck. “I should’ve been here. We were off dancing while my people were being—”
“You can’t think about it like that,” I rushed out. “You don’t know if us being here would’ve made a difference. The important part is that we got here when we did.”
His hair tickled my cheek when he shook his head. “He must’ve known I was gone. Why else would he attack now?” He backed away, his features hardening. “This was another game to him. Another move on the chess board. I’m tired of constantly losing pieces while he always has the upper hand.”
“I know, Nox. I know. I’m so sorry,” I said again, wishing there was something I could do. He’d been through this same cycle over and over again for longer than I could comprehend. Scarven seemed to be multiple steps ahead at every move. I wished there was a way to—
My lips parted as my hand fell away. I let out a curse. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about this.
“What is it?” Nox asked.
Another string of curses left my lips as I darted out of the bathing chamber.
“Devora, what—”
“I know what to do.” I fell to my knees before my pile of dirty clothes.
“Would you care to explain?”
I yanked at discarded garments. One by one, I threw them to the side, ignoring his anxious pacing and questions. When I finally found the dirty, ragged pair of black pants, I scrambled through the pockets, barely daring to breathe until my fingers brushed a strip of cloth.
“I got it.” My voice was breathless as I rose to my feet. I wasn’t sure it would still be there, but the dried blood peeked out on the edge of the cloth. “Scarven’s blood.”
Nox’s forehead scrunched. “How did you get that?”
“It was the night he took me. I told you how I bit his lip and drew blood when he kissed me, remember?”
His eyes glinted with rage as his hand curled into a fist. “I try not to,” he said through gritted teeth.
I kept going. “I wiped it on the back of my hand before he healed himself, then transferred it to this cloth when I got back to my room. I thought I could use it to get through the portal to the Hollow, but this is better. Fates, I can’t believe it was still in my pocket.”
“I don’t understand how this helps,” Nox said.
“You told me Silas cast a spell to see a vision of me, right? That’s how you found me in the cell?” I saw the moment realization dawned on him. “You said he needed something of mine to cast it. My sweater. Well, this is a lot better than a sweater.”
The corner of his lip tugged upward. “You absolute genius,” he said on an exhale. He grabbed my waist and lifted me into the air, spinning us in a circle. “You beautiful”—he kissed my neck—“perfect”—I giggled when he kissed my cheek—“nosy little genius.”
His lips found mine, hungry and aching and full of both hope and sorrow rolled into one. I gasped against him and wrapped my legs around his middle, letting the world fall away for just one moment. Just a handful of heartbeats in this bubble of solitude.
We broke away panting, and he rested his forehead on my chin. I breathed him in as my fingernails scratched the base of his skull. “This isn’t over, Nox,” I said quietly. “We can find him. We can strike back.”
He slowly lowered me to the ground, his enormous frame towering over me as he tenderly ran a thumb across my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You’ve given us another chance.”
I squeezed his wrist. “Then let’s not waste it.”
We found Milo in the hospital wing. The scent of healing herbs, disinfectants, and steam from several boiling cauldrons rammed into us as we entered.
Some of the older Alchemist refugees were running from bed to bed, wrapping bandages around the injured and murmuring spells at their bedsides.
Most of the wounded were sleeping, but a couple were alert and propped up in their beds.
I caught Everett sitting at the edge of one near the entrance. He had a black eyepatch over one eye, with the tip of a bandage peeking out beneath.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Like I should be helping, not sitting here,” he grumbled. “It’s just a cut.”
Tessa, who was folding more cloths into bandages at the shelf next to him, scoffed. “You almost had your eye taken out.”
Everett pointed to the patch. “She’s trying to convince me to leave it.”
“It makes you look sexy. In a roughed-up sort of way,” Tessa said.
He shot her a scowl. “It makes me look ridiculous.”
“At least it’s just your eye,” a quiet voice said from a bed behind Everett. Milo stood with his back facing us, mixing something in a mortar and pouring it into a glass vial.
Tessa instantly sobered. “Milo, I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t.” Milo shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I’m just—” He turned and scrubbed a hand down his tired face. “Let me know if you need a pain spell, Everett.”
The young Alchemist ignored Tessa when she tried to reach for him. He headed straight for a bed in the back where Hope, a young Shifter, lay. There was a huge lump on the side of her head oozing black pus, and she winced as Milo gently dabbed oil onto the spot.
“Maybe we should find someone else to do the spell,” I said to Nox, turning my back so nobody else could hear me. I didn’t want to ask more of Milo. He’d done so much tonight, all while dealing with the loss of his mentor.
Nox gave me a soft, grim smile. “A wise woman once told me I can’t keep forcing others to sit out while we face hardships. I’ll let him make the choice for himself. He’ll never forgive me if we do this without him.”
I nodded, and Nox pulled Milo to the side when he was done bandaging his patient. “Milo,” he started, his voice tender and careful. “How are you doing?”
The boy rubbed at his eyes, which were bloodshot and weary. Purple circles rested beneath them. His freckles were more pronounced than ever, and a sheen of sweat shone on his forehead.