Chapter 46
My hands slowly rise. You fool. You should have grabbed a weapon. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, carefully. Marian’s temple is bleeding. Agatha’s eyes are big, and she’s got a streak of blood on her cheek.
‘I told you.’ He waves his crossbow. ‘I was waiting for you to arrive.’
So he can kill me? Get his revenge for the revolt, since he probably just heard my whole speech to his guardsmen? Not sure how true that crossbow aims, but from twenty feet away, my chances aren’t good. ‘Well, I’m here now, so let’s talk.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to talk.’ He laughs incredulously, eyes wild, hair dishevelled. ‘I’m ready to start shooting.’
I tense, but then he surprises me by swinging to aim at his daughters. ‘All three of you deserve to die for what you’ve done.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa,’ I say, lunging a step.
‘Stop!’ he shouts, jerking his weapon back to me. ‘Don’t you dare move.’
‘Okay, not moving,’ I assure him.
Agatha whimpers and I somehow feel it in my soul.
‘Good, then where was I?’ He returns to aiming his crossbow at his daughters, this time at Marian’s face.
My reaction is visceral. A bolt that close would mean instant death.
It takes everything to keep my voice calm.
‘Come on, now. There’s nothing we can’t talk out.
Don’t forget that I have a ton of resources you want.
Old-world treasures. Cattle. Wheat. Electricity.
And I’m your gateway to real magic. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. ’
A sick smile twists Atlas’s face. ‘They all left me – Coatl’s dead. My guardsmen have deserted me. They even stole my coat. My armour. All because of you. I know I’m not making it home, so there’s only one thing I want now – and that’s to see you suffer.’
‘I’ll get you home,’ I say. ‘Just let Marian and Agatha go.’
‘No, you won’t.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re a terrible liar. But I will let you choose one of them.’
‘For what?’ I ask warily.
Again, he smirks. ‘Choose which one lives, and which should die.’
Agatha moans, and the crossbow jumps to aim at her. Marian fights against her ropes.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I shout. ‘They’re your daughters.’
He makes a sound of disgust. ‘They’re treacherous witches. Now choose. Take too long, and I’ll shoot them both.’
I can’t do that. The choice alone would destroy me, no matter who I chose.
And yet – Marian. I have to save her.
Our eyes meet, and to my horror I find permission to do the unthinkable. Rescue Agatha.
I shake my head. Not if it means sacrificing her.
Not in a million lifetimes.
Guilt chokes me, and I deserve it. Because how could I not choose to save my wife?
‘Magic or love? Which one will win?’ Atlas taunts.
I glance around helplessly, begging for someone to arrive. Even if I chose to save one, he’d probably start by shooting the other. ‘You’re a sick, evil bastard.’
‘Yes.’ Atlas looks pleased as he points at me. ‘That’s what I want to see – the agony of having to choose.’
An odd sensation enters my head. It’s a mix of pressure and something like the spark of a new idea. My brows pinch, until I realise it’s the connection trying to work. Agatha has sent me a memory.
Except I can’t see what it is. We’re still strangers, working with broken and underdeveloped wings.
She nods, then glances to a spot on the ground.
I see it – a sword lying in the grass, not far from Atlas.
‘Should I count down?’ Atlas asks. ‘Let’s start at seven … six …’
I swallow hard as my blood thrashes in my veins. If I charge him, he fires. Same deal if I go for the weapon.
‘Five … Four.’
‘Wait!’ I shout. A shadow moves behind him.
Atlas cups his ear like he’s listening. ‘Which one?’
‘Please,’ I beg. ‘Don’t do this.’
He gives a crazed smile. ‘Request denied. Three, two, one.’
I break into a sprint as he aims at Marian’s chest. The shadow – Rufus – moves, launching at Atlas. But he’s not fast enough to knock the crossbow away before Atlas pulls the trigger.
A cry rips from my throat.
Atlas immediately turns and lands a kick to Rufus’s stomach. Then he races to load another bolt.
I’m almost there.
Atlas is faster. Time slows as he raises his crossbow, this time pointing it at me.
There’s a loud click as he pulls the trigger. For a flash, I see the bolt in the air. It strikes like lightning. Pain explodes in my stomach. I stumble to my knees. No no no. My hand finds the wooden shaft and even touching it, it doesn’t feel real.
But it is real. A gut shot fired from only feet away.
Fatal.
I pant and watch as Rufus jumps to his feet and stumbles from the scene. If he knows anything, it’s when to bail on a bad deal.
Atlas pulls again on the mechanism to reload.
With a guttural cry, I rip out the arrow and fist it as a weapon. If I’m going to die, I’m taking this monster with me. Get up, I command myself. But moving even one foot is the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
Atlas curses and smacks his crossbow.
It jammed? I stagger forward.
Atlas’s fearful eyes dart to me as he snarls at his weapon, ‘Come on.’ He hits it again, this time harder.
Determined yet weak, I charge at him.
He turns to run. But then there’s an ominous click as his crossbow loads a bolt. He laughs victoriously and aims at me. He shoots.
This one hits my chest, close to my heart. It’s a bomb of pain, too much to doubt that it’s real. The struggle to breathe is instant. My legs refuse to carry me forward any more.
‘Ha! I win,’ Atlas celebrates with disbelief. ‘I did it. You’re dead. There’s no way you’re surv–’
Rufus reappears out of nowhere with the sword in his one hand and runs it through Atlas’s stomach.
‘How dare you kill my son!’ he shouts.
Atlas drops to the ground.
I stare. It’s wild that my search for justice for my father’s murder ends with him avenging mine. My eyes close in relief that the threat is over, but also because my lungs are failing. I fall.
‘Ryland,’ Rufus cries as he rushes over. He moans, taking in the bolt and blood.
‘I can’t – I can’t breathe.’
‘Here, let me help you.’ And before I can stop him, he rips out the arrow from my chest.
I growl through the burst of agony. No doubt I’ll bleed out faster now. It makes me cough violently, and I choke on more blood. But oddly, it does help me to breathe. ‘Are they … okay?’ I wheeze out.
‘Who? The girls?’ Rufus throws a look over his shoulder, his face grim. ‘One of them took an arrow.’
I clench my eyes shut. Atlas was pointing at Marian when he fired. My heart pounds wet and heavy in my chest. ‘Go help her.’
He grips my hands. ‘Okay, son. If that’s what you want.’
He disappears and soon after a shadow falls over me. My eyes blink open. I can’t believe it, but I see the long strands of Marian’s hair.
‘Marian?’ I whisper, relieved that she’s okay. There’s a halo of sunlight around her head. Her silhouette looks like an angel.
A sob leaves her throat. ‘You’re bleeding,’ she says. She drops to her knees, and her hands try to cover the wounds. ‘Help. We need help,’ she calls out.
‘It’s too late,’ I whisper. Even a Kingsland surgeon couldn’t save me now.
‘No,’ she whimpers. Her head shakes in disbelief.
I wish I had the strength to touch her face. How is she here? But then I remember that Rufus shoved Atlas just as he fired. ‘Was it Agatha who was … shot?’
Marian stills.
If the connection is allowing me to sense any of Agatha’s pain, there’s no way I could separate it from mine. I’m consumed with my own.
But if Agatha could come closer, maybe I could help her. Heal her. ‘Bring her here,’ I wheeze between breaths. I don’t know how much more injury I can take on before my heart stops, but I can try.
Marian seems to understand it would speed up my dying, and her head returns to shaking.
I try to spin it a different way. ‘Don’t let her die … alone.’
And I mean it. The connection can do a lot of miraculous things, but with absolute clarity, I see now what the heart of it is – to connect. To not have to do this cruel world alone.
That’s what I can give her now.
Marian quiets. ‘I-I don’t think she would want to be here right now. She’s too ashamed of what she’s done.’
I don’t have the strength to argue, so I pull on the fragile threads connecting Agatha and me, which is damn near impossible. They fortify instantly the more I focus on her.
And then, for the first time, I open myself up to her fully. I start by accepting my place in this. Accepting Agatha. Accepting us as partners in the connection, together. A warmth, almost a wonder, gathers in my gut.
I feel her mind startle, sensing me draw close mentally.
She doesn’t resist it, and a door cracks open between us.
It’s incredible to be exposed to the inner workings of someone.
She is injured, shot with a bolt, and now I can feel the sharpness of that wound in her gut.
Along with it come her emotions – loneliness.
Her curiosity at what I’m doing. Hope. Her longing to be loved. Her desire to be wanted by me.
Ultimately, it’s her shame that hits the hardest. It’s overpowering. I choke on some blood. Spit. Without her even saying a word, I know she regrets her betrayal. Deeply.
Darkness spots in my vision. If I’m going to save her, I’m running out of time.
I forgive you. It’s okay. Let me help you.
Don’t shut me out.
I imagine her hearing it. And I think she just might, because the fear and some of her emotional pain melts away.
Marian takes my hand, and I squint against the sun, wanting to see her one last time.
‘I love you,’ she says in a broken whisper.
My ability to speak is gone. I love you too.
For doing what was right for me and not letting me break my vows.
For showing me what it means to fall completely in love.
Then with everything I have left, I reach through the connection to Agatha and siphon all I can of her wound.