Chapter 44
My legs fold from under me as Memnon’s power invades me, more powerful this time than even before. It slips into my nose and mouth, down my throat and into my lungs. Sinks into my skin and winds its way between my bones. I sense it close in on my fluttering, broken heart.
I jerk against my soul mate even as I feel that beating organ slow. I claw uselessly at his arms.
I cannot see him, but I can feel the wetness of his tears against me, and across our bond, I feel his acidic agony. I remember how once, on the battlefield, I had died for a time and how Memnon had done monstrous things to revive me.
If I die tonight—by his own hand, no less—Memnon will become a thing of nightmares. Of that I’m sure.
My resistance becomes sluggish.
I can hear Memnon’s voice dredged up from the past.
“… You are mine and I am yours, and those are my soul’s deepest truths … Every bit of me loves you. Even the wretched parts … A love like ours defies everything … I am yours forever …”
This is not how we end, I say weakly across our bond. We are eternal …
“It is not our end,” he agrees. “You will come back to me.” There’s a fierce, determined pitch to his words.
And then my heart stops.
BA-BUM…BA-BUM…BA-BUM—
I draw in a deep, gasping breath of air. Immediately I cough, curling into a hard chest. I sense a hand pressed just over my heart.
I feel the magic bleeding out of that touch as my eyelids flutter open.
The night’s events come rushing back in all their terrible glory.
Goddess above, I’m alive.
Which means … Memnon must’ve revived me.
And now it seems he holds me cradled in his arms.
“Est amage?” He breathes it so quietly I almost miss it.
Slowly, I lift my head and meet his dark eyes, which gleam under the light of the orbs above us—orbs he must’ve relit after he…stopped my heart.
I see tear tracks down his cheeks. Those too, shine in the blue light above us.
I feel his entire body relax against me. Across our bond, his relief floods his system, drowning out almost every other emotion.
The hand that was over my heart now moves up, cupping the side of my face.
“My fierce, exquisite queen,” he says softly rocking me gently. He gazes at me with a sort of bereaved adoration. “You returned to me.” Quieter still he adds, “I wasn’t sure you would.” His fingers trail over my features, like he’s taking them in one last time.
“You can speak freely now,” I say.
Memnon gives his head a sharp shake. “Only some commands were broken when I—” His throat bobs, and he draws in a deep breath. “When you—” Again, he cannot seem to say it.
I nod. “When I died.” My voice is alarmingly weak.
His gaze searches mine. One moment his face is soft, the next it seems to fall to grief. “When I…killed you.” His voice breaks as he corrects me, and I sense in real time that something within my soul mate also died in the act.
I move my hand to my heart, where I can hear it beating steadily. “You did also bring me back to life,” I whisper.
He gives his head another agonized shake, and though I sense his emotions, he keeps his thoughts far from me.
Memnon’s hand moves to my hips, and he withdraws one of my blades from its sheath. The sorcerer presses it into my palm.
I’m too weak to fight his hold when he then covers my hand with his and guides the blade to his neck.
To my horror he holds it there.
“I am not allowed to ask you to do this,” he says, his expression fierce, “but you understand, don’t you?”
Tears well in my eyes. I do understand this abominable request.
“One swift cut and you’ll have your vengeance, my queen,” he says.
My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.
I work to find my voice. “We are long past vengeance, est xsaya.” I swallow down my rising bile at the sight of my weapon so close to his skin. “I would sooner die than hurt you. Now, put my dagger back.”
I feel a shudder work through him at my words, perhaps because he cannot say the same thing. But he doesn’t put my dagger back.
Instead, his jaw clenches with resolve. “If I die, I will be freed.”
From Eislyn’s bond, he means. He must not be allowed to confess this, but the penetrating look he gives me says as much.
“You know how to revive me,” he continues. He still grips my own hand—and the dagger held within it—to his neck. “You’ve seen me do it.” Softer, he adds, “I trust you.”
Goddess, is he really proposing that I kill him? And right on the wings of my own brief death, too. I can feel my hysteria rising up.
I’m shaking my head. “I cannot, will not, do that. Please don’t ask it of me,” I whisper.
Even if I had it in me to end him, there’s no guarantee this awful plan of his would work. Memnon said it himself once: not all hearts restart.
And I cannot risk his.
Memnon’s exhale is defeated, and I see him bow his head. Reluctantly he moves the blade from his throat. It’s only once I hear the soft hiss of my weapon sliding into its sheath, however, that I fully relax again in Memnon’s arms.
His eyes rise to mine, and they look so hopeless.
“Eislyn—” he begins.
I touch his face lightly, my arm feeling leaden. “I know,” I say. “She forced a bond on you.”
I feel all his tumultuous, trapped emotions swirling on the other end of our connection, but he doesn’t voice any of them. Just nods, defeated.
“She’s making her move. Right now,” Memnon says, searching my features. “This was her first part of it.”
My throat tightens. “Killing me?” I say, just for clarity.
“Yes.”
What a sickening task, making a soul mate kill their other half.
It also makes little logical sense. Why would Eislyn waste time killing me on the night of her coup when her focus has been almost solely on the fae throne? Is vengeance really it? Or is she tying up one loose end …
My eyes snap to Memnon’s.
“Does Eislyn mean to take the throne with you at her side?”
He grimaces but dips his chin.
Yes.
Horror of horrors.
I knew she meant to use Memnon for her own ends, and I knew she had a sick fascination with him for years, but to now know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she meant to rule alongside him? That shakes me to my core.
I’m still reeling from this revelation when Memnon’s hand resettles above my breasts.
“Vakahi.” His voice is like thunder, and his power pours out of him, across my skin.
Heal.
I gasp as his power sinks in. There’s not much to heal, and yet I do feel the weakness in my limbs begin to lift. My body itself feels lighter and less like a reanimated corpse.
Once the last of Memnon’s power tapers off, the sorcerer clutches me close. His entire body trembles uncontrollably. “I’ve needed to do that since I first saw your broken body.” He draws in several ragged breaths. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Thank the merciful gods.”
He lifts his head. “Please,” he says brokenly. “Run and don’t look back.”
I trail a finger along that terrible scar he wears, and his whole body shudders. I shake my head. “That is not how you and I fight our enemies.”
“You have now died three times for me,” Memnon says. “Once on my battlefield, once outside my tomb, and now once by my hand.”
He releases me, and I keenly feel his absence.
“If you hold any love for me still, you will understand that I cannot let Eislyn harm you through me again.” His voice holds none of its earlier power. “I have to know you’re alive and safe somewhere in the world.”
“Somewhere in the world?” I echo, my brows coming together.
Just what does Memnon think will happen after this evening?
“Please, est amage, do not follow me, and do not call on any unbidden gods for help.” He gives me the barest shadow of a smile, even though I feel like I’m slowly being crushed under the heavy weight of my own grief.
His fingers lightly caress my cheek. “I will find a way to fix this—I will.” His voice grows steely. “But I won’t make the mistake of putting you in harm’s way again.”
Before I can react Memnon lifts a hand. “Sleep.”
The world falls away.
I wake to Nero’s cold, wet nose nudging my cheek.
I exhale, pushing myself to a sitting position. Reality is a tidal wave, knocking me over, pulling me under as the night’s events return to me in all their sordid detail.
I wrap my arms around Nero and openly weep then. Long, keening cries. Everything hurts, but crying, crying feels good. Cathartic.
And poor Nero is getting squeezed within an inch of his life. Unfortunately for him, right now he’s my emotional support animal. He seems to take it all stoically.
Eventually, my tears trickle off and I loosen my hold on my familiar. Around me the Everwoods is empty. There are no witches, no demons, no Memnon.
How long have I been asleep?
My eyes rise, taking in the dark sky. It must’ve already been early morning when I was first ambushed at my and Memnon’s house. If it’s still technically early morning, then I probably haven’t lost too much time.
Which is fortunate, considering all that I have to do.
I force myself to my feet and swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, drawing in a steadying breath.
I don’t care what Memnon said to me earlier. Like hell am I letting him take down Eislyn alone. Two thousand years is a long time for Eislyn to continue breathing air when she’s done the unthinkable.
Time to ruin that bitch’s day.
My voice is steady when I call out to the night: “Bargainer, I’d like to make a deal.”