Chapter 44 #3
“Wait, are you...?” Elodie cocked her head to the side. “You’re alive?”
Silas lunged for Aedlin, unaware of the roots that had torn free from the frozen grasp of sleeping soil to ensnare his boot. They sent him sprawling, his body hitting the ground with a crash, and Aedlin didn’t hesitate to descend upon her prey.
With every bite of the small blade, Silas grunted, his breathing ragged. Viscous, red fluid trickling into the snow, seeping from too many wounds in his lower back. The air grew thick with a bitter, metallic scent, though Zadriel knew some of it came from his own blood clogging his nostrils.
“SILAS!” Elodie bellowed, rushing to her lover’s side.
The bag fell from her shoulder, its contents tumbling free.
A mess of papers scrawled with black ink and silky tunics scattered on the forest floor, glints of silver shining between rich fabrics, and something else.
Something dark that moved, flitting around like a horrified stare.
“We need to leave. Now!” Aedlin commanded, pulling Zadriel to his feet. Reaching for Aoife.
There was an ache in his spine, his blood rushing too quickly through his veins while his head spun.
“Dear gods, Silas! What am I supposed to do?” Elodie sobbed, falling to her knees. “What would he tell me to do?”
Blood pooled around them, Silas’s skin deathly pale.
He lifted his hand, pointing to the mess they’d left on the snow, moonlight kissing his flesh in a ghostly caress.
Elodie followed the path, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Then she nodded, kissing his brow before crawling toward their things, digging for... something.
They had a moment, and Zadriel took it, working on freeing Aoife from her bindings. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
She sniffled but gave him a single nod.
“You moved the winds and made sure they couldn’t hear us, didn’t you?”
The corner of Aoife’s lips quirked. “I did.”
“You’re very brave.” The tether came free, Silas’s weapon plunking on the ground. Zadriel stood and made to offer Aoife his hand, but something gripped his spine and squeezed.
He recoiled, back arching as invisible tendrils burrowed beneath his flesh, crawling through him until they seeped into his veins.
Aoife’s brow wrinkled. “Zadriel?”
It burned, a ruthless, agonizing fire searing his soul with each pained beat of his panicked heart.
“Aedlin,” he hissed, a wheeze rattling in his chest. His dark gaze flicked to Elodie, the woman digging through snow, a stream of blood weaving itself over and under her fingers like living rings. So much like the bracelet Brennan preferred.
He was too late.
His legs shook, muscles growing weak as his limbs became heavy. “Remember what I said. Go west, toward Baith, understand? Run and—”
Zadriel’s knees gave out, the ground rising up to break his fall. Sharp bits of broken icicles embedding themselves in his skin, the ache echoing through flesh to hammer against bone.
“What’s happening?” Aedlin demanded, reaching for his cloak. Tugging on it as if she could drag him along with her.
“Get as far away from me as you can,” he seethed between clenched teeth, each word more difficult than the last. Without thought, he curled his fingers around his cloak’s bloodstained corner, searching for solace. Knowing he was a fool.
“I don’t understand...”
“Aedlin, go!” he yelled with all he could muster, a growl rumbling in his chest.
The fallen queen grabbed Aoife’s hand and ran into the forest’s embrace, weaving between the trees. As far away from Zadriel as she could get before the blood thrall pulled him under. He didn’t miss the shock of amber looming in the darkness. One final look back before they were truly gone.
“I can’t fucking find it!” Elodie dug through brittle leaves and broken twigs, searching for gods knew what, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs. Something between a shriek and a sob escaping her lips while she tossed ink-splattered parchments aside.
A glint of silver glowed under the watchful eye of the moon, a pearly gem laying by its side. Zadriel was frozen, blood magic burning in his veins, his body trapped in its steely clutches. It kept his knees firmly planted. Demanded he wait until Elodie told him what to do.
And so, he stared.
Stared until he realized what he was looking at.
A crown with points so sharp they could have been blades, sapphires and diamonds glittering along its surface
Cillian’s crown.
Elodie muttered her thanks to the Gods as she snatched the small treasure by the crown’s side. “I should have worn this all along,” she cried, rushing back to her lover. “Fuck, Silas... please hold on.”
She slipped the ring onto her pointer finger, a familiar, endless black void swiveling to stare deep into Zadriel’s soul.
Elodie’s wide eyes followed, trailing over his torso until they landed on his clenched fist, fabric graced with Mora’s blood trapped between his fingers.
She smiled then, her worried expression easing.
“Panacea,” Elodie whispered, reaching for Zadriel’s knife.