Chapter Fifty-Three
Valeris
The magic flattened me against the wall, left me helpless as I watched Analleia scream in terror.
Helpless to do anything.
I had watched Zandyr die.
Watched my parents die.
All of them. Gone.
And now I would watch Analleia die too.
Her eyes squeezed shut, witnessing some unknown horror within her mind.
I remembered the words whispered from her lips.
I’m sorry.
Those words twisted something in my heart.
She could have killed me on numerous occasions, yet she had left me alive.
Maybe she hadn’t been using me. Maybe she wasn’t as manipulative as I had thought.
She had betrayed me, but my family had betrayed her first. If the witch took her memories and combined them with my memories and my face, it would be the end of Paravellia.
The end for all the surrounding kingdoms.
I struggled against the magic, but it held me prisoner.
Analleia’s fingers cradled around the Enchantress’s, and I watched her right hand shift down.
A thunderclap shattered the night around us, the blinding light disappearing like a candle blown out, leaving only a remnant of smoke. I fell to the floor with a thud, my limbs numb from being held against their will. I grimaced, rolling to my side, trying to see what was happening.
The Enchantress screamed, blood pouring from her arm.
Three stumps remained where her fingers had once been, their severed pieces on the ground, the golden ring encircling one.
I reached them before she could and flung them over the edge of the balcony.
Her eyes widened in horror. She scrambled for the railing with a cry and leapt off the side of the balcony, tumbling into the swirling darkness below where her scream cut off at the bottom.
I grimaced, uncurling my hand and looking down at the bloody ring in my palm.
Power emanated from it, seeping into my skin, a shadow circling within the opal stone.
I tucked it into my pocket, rushing to Analleia.
Blood poured from a nasty slash in the side of her head, staining her blond hair and dripping onto the ground.
My heart hammered in my chest, fear shaking my fingers.
I gathered her into my arms, pressing a palm to the wound and trying to stop the bleeding.
“Analleia,” I whispered, rocking her back and forth.
Death colored her features, her bright blue eyes hidden behind closed lids.
She didn’t respond, didn’t move, and I feared the witch had destroyed her beyond repair.
“Analleia,” I pleaded, pushing her blood-soaked hair away from her face.
Her head lolled back, supported only by my arm.
Tears slipped from my eyes as I pulled her closer, desperate for her to return, the weight of despair crashing down on me. She had saved my life. Saved my kingdom. Spared my uncle. Sacrificed herself in the end.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, clutching her to my chest as a sob racked my body.
The stars in the sky seemed to peer downward, the moon dim in the loss of the night, the heavens shedding invisible tears around us.
“I’m so sorry.”