Chapter 44
I’m slammed against the gate by the force of the explosion. Etherlight pummels into me. For a moment, the world is awash in gold. I can’t see or feel anything else.
In the distance, there are screams again. Did the Font’s explosion impact the others? No. It’s all in my head. I put my hands over my ears, and the screams transform into dragons’ roars. They cry out by the hundreds. The very foundation of Vinguard trembles as my bones rattle.
My heart stops entirely.
I try to suck in a sharp breath, but my lungs don’t fill with air. It’s just endless magic. I’m drowning in the raw essence of life itself.
The air has been replaced entirely with Etherlight, and my body can’t handle it. My knees give out, and I slump, sliding down against the bars at my back.
Gold turns to flames. I am ablaze, inside and out. The orange-and-white fire dances across my flesh. I feel the blaze tangling my hair as though fingers are raking through it, teasing through the dark curls. Endless agony rushing through me in wave after wave of pure magic.
And then, as if sensing I couldn’t take one second more, the fire extinguishes.
I roll to the side and upturn the meager contents of my stomach. Red splatters across the hot stone, steaming instantly. Blood? Panicked, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The crimson streak vanishes off my skin, singed away by the Etherlight.
Is this it? Did I survive this long to die like this?
It’s getting so hard to keep myself upright. At any second, my body will give up. I fought and survived this long for what?
Footsteps rush down the walkway. I fight to turn my head and peer through the closed iron gate.
“Lucan?” I blink, certain my mind is playing tricks on me.
Worried eyes meet mine. Lucan rushes over and slams into the gate, shaking it. The Etherlight doesn’t seem to impact him, confirming my theory that safety lies just on the other side.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. “How…”
“Hold on.” With a flash of an artificer sigil sketched messily on his hand with dirt, the lock shatters. Never has anything sounded more beautiful than that fracturing metal.
“Lucan, don’t—” I see what he’s about to do before he moves, but he does it anyway. He opens the gate and is nearly knocked back by the force of the Ether.
With gritted teeth and every muscle straining, with pain so apparent in his eyes it nearly finishes the job the Font started and tears me in two, he reaches for me, pulling me up. Arm around my shoulders, he heaves me through and slams the gate shut behind us as we tumble against the wall.
It’s instant relief.
Air—not Etherlight—fills my lungs. Skin and muscle settle back onto my bones. My head slowly stops spinning, but now it’s filled by the most splitting headache I’ve ever experienced. I still see motes of gold drifting through my vision, even as I press my eyes closed.
My bones rattle. Though I’m not cold. I finally, slowly, crack my eyes open only to be met with Lucan’s.
The hazel of his eyes seems to glow brighter, the flecks of gold in them shining in the light of the Font. Or perhaps it’s just the sparks in my vision.
His back is against the wall, which must be uncomfortable, given that he’s still in nothing but his smallclothes—which is now the only thing I can focus on.
There is so much skin.
Face-to-face, my body is flush against his. His legs are on either side of me. Lucan’s fingers dig into my back and hip, holding me up. Our eyes are locked, and nothing else exists. The pain evaporates, as though I’m melding into him.
“How are you here?” My voice is little more than a pathetic croak.
“I was worried.”
“Worried, but—” I try to push away, my fingers splayed out on the large, unbroken expanse of his hard chest. Dragon hells, the man is carved like one of the stone sculptures of Mercy Knights that loom over the Grand Chapel.
I step back, breaking contact, and the shaking instantly returns, worse than before.
“Don’t move.” Lucan’s arms tighten around me, pulling me against him again. One of his hands spreads between my shoulder blades. The other, at the small of my back. I’m held so tightly, I barely have room to breathe. The world spins. “Give yourself a moment,” he says.
“But—”
“I’m helping you.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, hand hovering a second too long, knuckles brushing my cheek.
It’s then I realize that the motes of light aren’t just the haze of the Font or remnants of what I just endured. They’re real and happening right now. Etherlight flows between us like it did in the chapter house.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. His hand still hovers, near enough to feel his warmth. “Let me lead, Isola.”
Fingertips lightly brush my cheek, though I don’t think he’s moving any hair this time.
There wasn’t any reason for him to touch me at all.
But he is. Lucan’s eyes drop to my mouth, and his fingertips are quick to follow.
His thumb drags slowly across my lower lip, and my breath hitches.
He tightens his hold at the small of my back, like he needs to be even closer.
There is no space between us. I feel everything. Every flat expanse of muscle, every divot and curve. I feel him through the thin fabric of my smallclothes, and my skin aches.
What would it feel like if he brushed his thumb lower? Down my neck? Lower still?
The heat that started as familiar and comfortable is now a blaze, flushing up my chest and over my face.
“Lucan,” I rasp. All I seem to know is his name. All other thoughts have vanished. It’s just him. Endlessly glorious him.
“How are you feeling?” he murmurs. He’s so close that I feel his breath on my face. Close enough that I could kiss him if I wanted to.
And I want to.
The realization is somehow more terrifying than facing down a dragon.
“I feel horrible.” Yet also amazing at the same time. How is this so confusing? My body has just been torn apart and put back together. But as long as his hands are on me, I feel like I could do anything.
He nods. “There’s only so much I can do with a healing sigil.”
“You should go before they catch you.”
“I’m not leaving you.” His hands tighten further, if that’s possible, as if to prove the point.
“If they find you, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Then I’ll be in trouble.”
“Lucan…” I search his face for a hint of doubt. He’s ready to stay here with me until I’m ready, come what may.
“I’m not leaving you, Isola.” He brushes my cheek with his knuckles again, and my whole body is ablaze. The light around us seems even brighter.
“Because I saved your life,” I say on a broken whisper.
“Because you’re you,” he corrects me but doesn’t elaborate further.
My breath catches and my body goes rigid as hasty, uneven footsteps echo down to us.
I push away from him, and the moment I do—the moment I am out of his Etherlight aura—I instantly feel worse.
Everything comes crashing down on me at once.
My joints ache. My skin hurts. My eyes burn as though acid has been poured into them.
“Isola—”
“I’m going to need you to do me a favor, Lucan.” With a groan, I manage to take another step back. And I’m nearly sick again. My symptoms are worse than ever before, and there’s only one thing that I know that will alleviate this agony: Mum’s tinctures.
“What?” He straightens away from the wall, concern blazing in his eyes. I probably look as awful as I feel.
“Lie for me.”
Lucan doesn’t have a chance to ask what I mean. The vicar looms at the base of the stairs, eyes wide with surprise, and then his brow furrows with anger. It’s not outright, not yet, but I have to play this carefully.
“Vicar Darius.” I stagger toward him. The hand I place on the wall for support isn’t just for show. “I need my father.”
“Excuse me?” His eyes dart between Lucan and me, then narrow. “What has occurred?”
“I was worried for her and—”
“When Lucan arrived, I already had broken out,” I interrupt and gesture toward the gate. I must give the vicar what he wants. Give a little to keep him pliable and working with me to get what I need—a way to get a tincture before this power tears me in two. “I drew on Etherlight.”
“Without a sigil?” the vicar breathes in what sounds like ominous anticipation. I don’t nod. Don’t affirm. Merely level my eyes and wait for him to draw his own conclusions.
“While the toll on my body was great, I now have a greater understanding of Etherlight. I think… I think I can help my father create a new weapon. Greater than ever before.” Perhaps even better than Valor’s legendary sword, I don’t say but let him assume as I hold the vicar’s gaze, easing farther away from Lucan with each word.
“My father can help me craft a sigil that will help me stabilize this power and then…” I take one step too far.
The world tilts and goes dark.