Chapter 55
A Stolen Moment
Sidrick’s emotions billowed like a dark cloud that trailed behind me as we made another sharp turn. My own thoughts had turned morose, strangling me as threads of guilt and helplessness became a noose of betrayal.
There wasn’t a single step that we took toward our possible escape that wasn’t a death knell for Kaelun and Tarrin.
I can’t do this.
The words haunted me as we walked because more than anything I needed them to slide out of my mind and off my tongue into reality.
But every time I went to open my mouth, Caius’ words flooded my mind.
You are the spark. I’m not saying it’s fair, but you must choose to survive over all else.
It wouldn’t matter if I gave voice to the words that railed against our forward movement; none of the commanders would risk me, and my protestation would only cost us precious time.
I hated the burden of the spark. That was no secret. Stars, I’d offered to give it up more than once. But I’d never hated its burden more than in that moment because it wasn’t just me paying the consequences. I had the power to create worlds coursing through my veins, yet I was helpless.
Mother. Father. Cassy. Leighton. Mrs. E. Kaelun. Tarrin. Sidrick. How many more would I fail? How many more would have to pay for my existence? For my mistakes? For me, not being good enough—strong enough—to save them?
Endymion snagged my focus as he glanced at me over his shoulder, dark brows furrowing as he caught my expression. I looked away, knowing one day—perhaps today—I’d fail him, too. And gods help all of us all if it was Wymond who made certain of it.
Artton halted so suddenly that I nearly walked right into him. “What is it?” I whispered, trying to look around him to no avail. We were in a narrow corridor, and stopping like this made me acutely aware that there wasn’t enough room to draw swords if needed.
He didn’t answer, opting to raise a hand for me to be quiet instead.
My heartbeat pulsed in my ears as Endymion jogged away from us.
Ten seconds went by.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
My breaths came in heavy, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me. Something was wrong. I was trapped.
Little mouse, Njal’s voice seemed to whisper in my mind, and my chest constricted further, stealing my breath.
A hand rested on my shoulder, and sound escaped from my lungs, forcing Sidrick to wrap a hand around my mouth to muffle the scream.
“Deep breath, Nyleeria,” Sidrick soothed quietly.
The sounds of my breaths were harsh against his fingers as I breathed through my nose.
In a blink, Endymion had shifted places with Artton, features deeply etched in the low light as I looked at him with wild eyes.
Sidrick released his hand, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as the spark thrashed against the confines of the poison, trying to break free as if in warning.
“What is it?” Endymion said, worry slipping into his clipped words.
I broke my restraint, grabbing for his forearm as if connecting us would allow him to feel what I did. “Something is wrong.” My voice betrayed my panic. His eyes bounced between mine like he was trying to read my thoughts.
As if conjured by my words, the ground beneath us rumbled.
Endymion pulled me into him just in time for us to hit the wall, only to be thrown in the opposite direction.
He grunted, but his grip on me never faltered as he caught his balance enough to wedge a foot against each wall, steadying us as the world continued to sway.
His ornate leathers pressed against my cheek, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of it as I fought desperately against the sense of vertigo that threatened to consume me.
I was losing any sense of reality as a heady feeling came over me—like the dream realm itself had crossed over into my waking life. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I clung to him. Clung onto reality.
“Endymion!” Artton yelled over the chaos. “We have to get out of here.”
“I know,” he yelled back. “Get to the end of the corridor. We’re almost at the courtyard.”
He spun us around, and my stomach nearly betrayed me.
“Small steps,” he ordered, then released me.
The second his hands left me, a tremor threw us, and we crashed into the wall. Trying to find any equilibrium I could, I pushed myself off the wall and held both arms out in a T to catch myself no matter what way I was tossed.
Small steps or not, it was like walking on a thin plank in the middle of the Clarian Sea during a high storm.
The tremors became incessant, and I wasn’t even sure we were actually making progress.
As it got progressively harder to stand upright, the vertigo began to get its way until I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then, just as my body was about to give up, everything stilled; the lack of movement so sudden it threw us to the ground.
I lay there, trying to sort through which way was up.
“Keep going,” Endymion demanded, and despite the command in his voice, it still betrayed his panic.
“What was that?” Sidrick called out as he got to his feet.
“It’s Wymond,” his second said. “He knows you’re missing and is using his magic to search for you. It’s only a matter of time before he finds us.”
“Fuck,” Artton said, and I couldn’t have said it better.
I made to get up, but stars it was hard, the hallway seemingly spinning around me.
Using the wall for support, I was finally able to pull myself to my feet—instantly regretted it.
I swayed, wondering if this sense of disorientation was what the men pouring out of the tavern in the wee hours of the night experienced as they literally stumbled home.
“Come on,” Endymion coaxed as he wrapped a hand around my elbow, trying to steady me.
It took time to gain our bearings, but with each step, we seemed to find our footing until there was no need to drag a palm along a wall to keep us steady as we slowly made our way toward another archway.
“Which way?” Artton asked from the lead, Endymion still unwilling to leave my side.
“Left, but we’ll—”
His words were cut off as the archway dimmed with a rush of dark mist that hurtled toward us like a sandstorm.
“Run!” Endymion yelled.
None of us hesitated as we sprinted back down the underground corridor.
Within second the mist snuffed out the light, throwing us into darkness. Lifting his hand, Endymion summoned fire to illuminate our way.
“Guys!” Artton yelled from behind, and the panic frayed my nerves.
“Faster, Sidrick,” Endymion ordered.
We ran full-tilt in the opposite direction, my coming in breaths sharp.
Without a word, Endymion grabbed me at the waist and pressed me against the wall.
“No!” I cried out, lunging for Sidrick. Strong arms stopped me, and held me as we watched in horror.
Like thick fog under the weight of the sun’s heat, the mist slithered forward, and as it did the ground seemingly turned into a waterfall of sand—and Sidrick was in its clutches.
Artton yelped from the other side, and I turned to see the same scene unfolding—only the ground had already claimed him to his knees.
“No!” I screamed again, and Endymion’s grip on me tightened. “Let me go.” I pulled against him. “We have to help them.”
“We can’t,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, but it will be seconds until Wymond has them.”
Back against his chest, Endymion’s heartbeat pounded as fast as mine; both helpless as we watched the ground swallowing our companions.
The mist crept closer to us, and before it got too close, he called upon his power—the glittering black dome shrouding us from its clutches just as it claimed Artton and Sidrick.
Spinning me to face him, Endymion’s wide eyes shifted to a dark indigo as they filled with panic.
A new sense of dread flooded my senses from his urgency, forcing me to focus on him instead of the crippling fear for my friends.
“Nyla,” he said, gripping my shoulders, “I need you to listen carefully. My shield will only last so long. Minutes at most. Do you understand?”
Did I understand him? Did I even understand what just happened to the others? Gods, I didn’t want to understand it all. The horror of it was too much to comprehend.
Wymond’s powers had found us and stolen them away, which meant only one thing—
“We’re next,” I said, voice shaky.
“You’re next,” he clarified. “His powers aren’t searching for me, but they will break through my shield and take you from me to the Great Hall. You can’t let them have the spark, Little Star. Do you hear me?” His words were getting faster, and I knew we were running out of time.
“I can’t stop them, Endymion,” I admitted, feeling a deep sense of defeat.
“Yes,” he said, lifting a hand to cradle my cheek, “you can. Thaddeus’ spell will only work if you willingly offer your powers.”
I blinked up at him, forcing myself back into the memory I’d lived too many times and realized he was right. Knowing him now for the monster he was, if he could’ve taken it on his own, he would’ve. It was the only reason Thaddeus had asked me to do it again.
“Please, tell me you understand.” Endymion’s clipped words drew my attention back to him.
I grabbed his arm. “They’ll kill the others if I don’t give in. I can’t—” My words were cut off as something shifted beneath my feet. Looking down, I saw thin wisps of magic begin to rise through the glittering shield.
“Endymion,” I breathed, now holding onto him for dear life.
“You can,” he said, stepping past both of our fear as mist began to pooling around our feet. “You must. Even if he kills every last one of us. Do you hear me?”
I shook my head furiously, tears blurring my vision. “My magic will come back before then. I’ll fight him,” I said, grasping at straws.
His head tilted and his eyes softened, the combination breaking something in me. Caressing my cheek with a thumb, he said, “One day, Little Star. But not today. Not against a High Lord.”
My tears slipped past their confines as the implication of what he was asking me to do sank in.
He placed his forehead against mine, enveloping me in his deeply familiar scent. “I need you to promise me that you’ll stay alive. That you’ll keep the spark safe.”
I swallowed, unable to utter the words that would undoubtedly sacrifice everyone I cared for.
Heartbreak stared back at me through his depthless eyes. “Nyla, please,” he begged in helpless desperation—and gods did I understand those feelings all too well.
“I can’t,” I croaked.
He closed his eyes, and I felt his anguish. Opening them, he brought his other hand to my face and cradled me as he bore into my soul, his cerulean depths swirling with endless emotion.
I didn’t have to look down to know the tendrils were creeping up my legs as a cool, sharp tingling followed in their wake.
We had seconds. Maybe more.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Little Star,” he whispered, and the crack in his voice had my own hand reaching up to caress his cheek.
“Don’t come for me,” I said. “You have a chance to get back to Caius. And who knows, with my fae body…” I let the words drop.
Maybe my new body would survive losing my powers, or maybe my very essence was the spark as Endymion had claimed, and surviving was a fool’s hope.
Either way, if I survived without the spark, I was of no value.
“I can’t,” he said, echoing my answer, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t everything to save me.
No, he’d never abandon me.
My legs were going numb as the ground claimed me, forcing Endymion down to his knees—and I could tell the intrusion of magic ripping through his shield was hurting him.
His eyes dipped to my lips, then back to my eyes, and the place in my chest that had continually ached, bucked then, as if stirred to life.
My breath hitched as he ran a thumb along my bottom lip, the intimate contact making me feel things I thought long dead.
The corner of his mouth pulled up a fraction, and then, he leaned in.
I closed my eyes waiting for the soft caress of his lips to press against mine, and the flutter in my chest went from want, to a sudden, all-consuming need, like promised rain to a thirsting desert.
I was suspended in time. The warmth of his breath caressing my skin, and I almost moaned at its promise. Parting my lips, I tilted my head up and was instantly bereft when cool air nipped at me instead.
Confused, I opened my eyes, and my heart stopped dead in its tracks as I found myself staring into honey-brown eyes, their light color a stark contrast to his commander who’d just held me in his arms.
“Hello, Nyleeria,” Wymond crooned.