Chapter 19 The Only Way to Rebuild Is to Destroy #2
Lucian’s eyes widen. He’s at my side in an instant.
His arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me to the floor, dragging us under the desk.
He throws his body over mine like a blanket—but not in a suffocating way.
It’s almost protective. One hand stays around my waist, holding me steady, while the other clutches the leg of the desk.
The contents of the table spill to the floor—papers and pens raining around us, dancing across the marble.
We stay tucked under the table as the pens start to still. The world calms, little by little. When I can, I glance over my shoulder, only to find Lucian’s eyes already on me. When I turn away, I feel his gaze lingering the entire time, until the world finally ceases its incessant movements.
I wait for Lucian to move first. He lingers a moment too long—his hand on my waist, his body over mine. Then, he pulls himself up. He doesn’t offer me a hand.
I follow shortly after.
“If we have to fight…” Lucian steps close.
His hand reaches for my waist again, roaming across my torso, feeling for something.
My breath catches, and I almost step back.
But if touching me is nothing to him, then it’s nothing to me.
His hand stops moving, resting near my hip bone.
“Tuck your skirt here for better mobility.”
Is that why he brought me along?
Lucian opens the door, glancing down. Both guards—whom I was supposed to subdue without killing—lie still on the ground.
“Are they…?” I don’t finish the question. I don’t need to.
Lucian grabs my wrist and walks quickly. “Most likely,” he says.
I look back at them. I know they’re dead. The question is how long they’ve been that way. I hardly noticed when their blood stopped pumping.
“Eyes ahead of you,” he demands. “There are plenty more where they came from.”
I yank my wrist back. “But I didn’t want to kill them.” I shake my head, watching him. He doesn’t show a flicker of remorse.
I wait for him to decide I’m the problem because I killed them. He never does. He’s callous and cruel. Just like me. I already knew it—knew him.
But I still say, “I told you I didn’t want to.”
I think that’s what I’m more upset about—Lucian disregarding his promise, not the people I’ve killed. Do I have no self-control? I wanted to stop the guards, not kill them. But what if that’s the same thing?
Lucian reaches out and grabs my wrist again. “We have to be quick.”
We are. But the second we round the third bend, there’s a woman waiting for us on the other side—the white of her hair the only thing lighter than her pale skin. “We thought you’d be coming,” she says.
Lucian sighs, curtly saying, “Piphany.”
I expect Lucian to fight, but instead, he runs back the way we came. I follow, tucking my skirt into my waistband like Lucian showed me.
We don’t get far before I tumble to the ground, my feet snagged on something invisible.
Lucian releases my wrist as he falls, too.
I shuffle on the floor, regaining my bearings as a guard jumps on top of Lucian.
The box lands a foot ahead of me. What if the silvers are connected to the Soul Ruby?
They burned me, which means they could be.
I drag myself toward it, my hands sliding along the floor as I push my body forward. But each movement is harder than the last, as if something is pulling my legs in the opposite direction.
I almost make it as a sharp boot slams down on my hand, twisting.
A crunch fills the air. I know it’s me. My bones. But for just a heartbeat, there’s absolutely nothing.
My pulse moves to my throat, as if I’ve swallowed my heart. The floor tilts beneath me, and my vision blurs at the edges.
I can barely see as the woman reaches down, long skinny fingers clutching the box.
Queen Leiana.
She kicks me as she walks past, her boot crushing my ribs. I gasp for air that doesn’t come, dropping to my side. The marble is cold against my skin as I clutch my broken ribs.
Queen Leiana walks slowly toward Lucian, who is pinned down by three guards. Somehow, he still makes the effort to look at me, his cheeks stained red with the strain. When his eyes meet mine, Lucian says, “Run.”
I should. I’m glad he’s even telling me to. But I don’t move. I clutch my side as Queen Leiana ducks down, yanking Lucian’s blond hair—only for the cap to come off in her hand, revealing the true prince.
To my surprise, the queen turns back to me. Her movements are slow—stunned—as she meets my gaze. Her eyes widen. Maybe she’s seeing past the glamour.
Lucian continues to fight, slashing at the guards, but shadows wrap around him. I do the best thing I can think of: I reach up my skirt and grab one of the knives Lucian gave me. With my good hand, I hurl it at Queen Leiana.
I wish I was better—that my first instinct wasn’t to aim right for her chest. But despite my wish, I’m disappointed as Queen Leiana lifts her hand, stopping the blade with her shadows inches away from her heart.
The dagger clatters to the floor, and Queen Leiana kicks it away from me. Leaning down, she picks up my hand by the fingers she broke. I scream. White floods my vision.
My fingers pop and tear as if she’s peeling bone from muscle, like my ligaments are putty for her to reform. I can cauterize a wound, stop my bleeding, but I can’t keep my bones from being torn apart.
The queen pulls me to my feet. My head spins, dizzy enough that my stomach churns too. I’m going to puke—hopefully on her shoes—but I fall forward before I do.
She squeezes my fingers. I fail to take a breath—my throat closing on itself, like my body prefers death to this pain.
My head isn’t on straight, but I spot the box under her arm. I could reach for it, but what if it’s not the Soul Ruby? What if this has nothing to do with me?
The queen holds my cheeks like the first time we met and looks into my eyes. Fear swirls in hers, reminding me of when she trapped me just to let me go. I understand why now. She couldn’t kill me. Not that she remembers it, but it seems like she remembers me in some capacity.
Behind her, Lucian is a blurry mess as he pulls himself out from under the guards’ hold. I don’t turn. Queen Leiana focusing on me is the best advantage I can give him. I slam my head forward, plunging into the queen. When I pull back, the room tilts, and blood gushes from her nose.
I raise my knee to her stomach, and she catches it, flipping me to my back. I crash against the marble floor, the wind escaping my chest. I have to get up, but I don’t know if I can.
Then, Piphany steps toward Lucian, a blade in her hand. She presses it to his neck. For a second, the world stops.
It would be easier if Lucian died—the person who is destined to kill me. The only person who can. Killing him would be self-defense, and I wish I could go through with it.
Instead, I focus on Piphany’s pale hand. The blood vessels surge, rushing through my brain like something fizzy, and I hold onto them. Her hand trembles beneath my grasp. The blade nicks the side of Lucian’s neck, but she doesn’t have enough control to do more than that.
All I can feel are my broken, throbbing fingers as Piphany’s hand bursts apart. Her skin, muscle, and blood spray all over Lucian’s chest and face.
Piphany screams, a hiss that echoes down the hall, exploding my eardrums. She holds her arm up as blood shoots from the empty socket.
I can sense the rupture in my hand, but it’s distant. My wrist and fingers overwhelm me.
Lucian appears next to me, pulling me up in a movement so quick that I’m running before I realize my feet are on the ground. The box is in his hand.
Behind us, Queen Leiana steps toward Piphany. The guards stay frozen at her side—scared. Queen Leiana yells something, and they follow after us.
The world shifts beneath us—another tremor at the worst time. Why in the worlds does it have to happen just as Lucian and I are trying to escape?
He pushes me against the wall, his body pressing into me to keep us both upright. The guards pursuing us fall to the floor, their collapse echoing.
The world calms, just a smidgen, and Lucian grabs my hand, zigzagging as we run into the nearest room.
He splashes a goblet of water on the floor. The puddle vibrates as he drops to a knee, resting a hand atop his subtle reflection. It’s just enough to open a portal—stretching to the size of his body. He falls through, and I follow after him.
I land on top of him, sprawling across the floor. My nostrils tickle. We’re back in the old dusty room on Visnatus.
I stumble to my feet, offering him my uninjured hand. He stares at it for a moment, like it might be a trick. Then he lets me help him up.
Together, we collapse into the chairs around the table, catching our breath. I rest my hand on the wooden surface. The fingers sit wrong—the middle one leaning too far to the left. My knuckles are flat, swallowed by swelling.
I try to flex my fingers. At first there’s nothing.
Then a tremor runs through my hand. The pointer finger twitches, and a bolt of pain shoots up to my shoulder. I quickly stop trying.
Nausea rises in my stomach. I’ve felt my heart rupture in my chest. I’ve woken up in a casket of ash. But I can’t even look at this.
I drop my hand back onto my lap, shunning it. My broken fingers throb, but maybe that’s not all I feel. Maybe some of it is Piphany, her pain spilling into mine—and I can’t tell which is which anymore.
I look back at Lucian. He’s already looking at me.
His wrists are worn out—red. His chest pumps viciously, sweat beading around his temples. My ears ring with pain, and his must too.
I expect Lucian to look away, but he never does. He doesn’t look angry, dark, or any other word I’ve used to describe him lately. He just watches me, eyes hovering between my gaze and the rest of me.
I have too many things on my mind to have only one thing on my mind: him. I wonder what he’s thinking about while watching me.
He steps closer, his thumb reaching for my forehead. My breath catches when he makes contact.