Chapter Thirty-Three #3
“Kill. Me,” he rasps as I keep pushing my waning magic into him. “Sura.” My heart clenches at his words, at the despair in them. “Please.”
“Roshan, stop,” I tell him, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Trust me. I’m almost there.”
He reaches up with his free hand to my face. “Always . . . love . . . you.”
I can barely hear him, each strangled breath of air punching out of his lungs.
Fuck, I’m losing him! Desperation grabs hold.
No, no, no. I’m so close, but the last infernal clot holds fast like the parasite it is.
Half sobbing, I slam more magic into it, aware that I’m using a dangerous amount .
. . and that I don’t know the consequences of pushing to my very limits . . .
Magic bleeds into me, and I can sense it as Darrius’s.
Finish it, my soul-fated urges.
What about you? I yelp, just as a bolt of lightning nearly lifts him off of Indira, and the flow of magic falters for a second. I gasp as Darrius turns to shadow and re-forms on the azdaha’s back. He’s safe—but Anahima is heading right for me.
I fling up a weakened shield much too late when a sheet of ice magic smashes into me, slamming me backward.
My skull crashes into the stone of the courtyard and my bones shatter as my eyesight dims, blood thundering in my ears.
It takes a moment too long for my already sluggish magic to heal me, and by the time my vision returns, Anahima is stooped over Roshan’s supine body, chanting something.
A blade flashes, but I can’t see if she’s hurt him or not.
Our eyes meet as brackish purple murk rises out of the king’s mouth and disappears into Anahima’s.
Her expression is equal parts victorious and vicious as she grabs a screaming Helena and vanishes into a portal winking open behind her, taking her father’s unholy essence with her.
A second portal appears in the lower courtyard and the Scavs pour into it, but I can’t worry about them right now.
On my hands and knees, I crawl dazedly over to the fallen king, feeling the blood leak down my back from my shattered skull. Aran is already beside him, casting his healing spells, though his face is abnormally ashen. “He’s not responding,” he cries.
“Roshan,” I croak beside his limp body. A thin line of blood wells along his cheek that wasn’t there before. Remembering the glint of the blade, I have no idea why Anahima would have cut him, but thankfully, it’s not worse. “Roshan! Wake up!”
A vortex of shadows thuds down beside me, sending some of the men scattering, as my soul-fated gathers me into his arms. Lacerations and lightning burns litter his tattooed skin. “Starbright.”
A garbled sob escapes me. “Darrius, he’s dying. Can you save him?” Unfathomable midnight eyes meet mine, agony and indecision in them. I know what I’m asking, and I also know that he will deny me nothing, not while he has the strength to do it. “Please.”
His eyes flutter shut, but then he nods once and removes his mother’s necklace from my neck. A muscle tics in his jaw as he leans over my former lover and fastens the catch around the king of Oryndhr’s throat.
“The opal contains the pure essence of my uncle,” he says softly. “My mother was killed by Fero before she had a chance to use it. If anything can save him, this can. It will be up to Saru now.”
Darrius . . . I can’t get the words out, sorrow and gratitude choking me, but he feels my ragged emotions through our nearly complete bond anyway.
“I’ll do anything for you, wife, even save another man. But are you certain this is what he wants?”
Roshan had asked me to kill him. But that was when Fero had nearly won. I also know what Dare is asking: using Saru’s essence without Roshan’s explicit consent, even to save him, is a gray area. Selfishly, I know what I would want . . . but it’s not my permission to give.
Unsure, I glance at Aran, who nods without hesitation. “Yes. His heart endured only for you. If his soul accepts Saru’s gift, it will still be his choice.”
My throat closes up, eyes stinging, as the gem starts to glow when Darrius whispers an inaudible command.
We hold our collective breath while the purest sliver of light from the pendant dissipates into the king’s waxy, sallow skin.
He’s bathed in warm gold, a strange ethereal glow settling over him that brightens until we’re forced to look away.
“Stay, Roshan, please,” I whisper.
Aran is praying fervently to Saru, his lips moving and tears pouring down his cheeks. Everyone else in the kingsguard looks somber and scared, the waiting untenable.
And then I feel it . . . the slow dribble of akasha in his veins that quickly becomes a flood. I sit up and exchange a look with Darrius. He smiles, though his face carries a vulnerable hurt that he tries valiantly to hide.
I love you, I tell him firmly. That will never change. Trust in us.
Clem lets out a small noise, and Aran sucks in a breath as Roshan’s chest rises once and then twice.
His fingers twitch and his eyelids flutter.
With a gasping inhale, he sits upright, eyes flying open and instantly finding me: brown with golden sunbursts at their centers, gleaming with life and Saru’s otherworldly light.
Brown and alive and full of so much love, my chest aches. There he is.
Gods . . .
Something inside of me—that aching hollow—yearns for completion.
I feel the moment when Darrius vanishes into a flurry of shadows, not because he wants to leave but because the curse is kicking in and he still has a kingdom to protect.
Dare, wait.
I need to run and clear my head.
Are you all right? I ask. I feel his torment through the bond.
I will always trust you, Starbright.