Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Know why you fight, or you won’t live long.
CELINE
He’s not dead.
My throat burns. I’m screaming. I don’t care.
Thousands of people watch from the stands. The low rumble of hundreds of whispers, punctuated by the sharp bite of scattered laughter.
Anger, like I’ve never felt before, burns in my chest. It explodes out of me, coating my wings with flames.
I’m not grieving and I won’t.
Because Luca isn’t dead, and until the sting of my magic calls me a liar, I won’t believe it.
My friend, my heart, the most loyal person I know. He’s here because of me. In a realm his parents gave up everything to protect him from.
Months ago, I told him I would be his downfall.
He wouldn’t listen to me. He wrapped me in his arms, told me he would turn the world to stone for me, and then loved me so well I believed him.
And I won’t stop believing now. Luca deserves my confidence.
My flames burn higher. They shoot from my wingtips and melt the ice around us as I pick Luca up and wrap my wings around him. Not close enough to burn him, but close enough to incinerate anyone who tries to take him from me.
“Congratulations on your win,” Riven says.
My head snaps to him. Hiding behind his cloak, like always, his tattered hood hangs against his shoulders. My enemy. An agent of my father, without empathy, morals, or limits. I almost forgot.
“I’ll kill you,” I tell him, blinking rapidly to clear the blur of unshed tears.
“It might not be today or tomorrow, but one day, Riven, I’ll kill you for this.
You believe in no one and stand for nothing, and you’ll pay for it in blood.
If Luca dies, I’ll make sure you leave this life as empty as you began it. I swear it on my magic.”
My runes activate, glowing golden on every patch of my blood-spattered skin.
Riven studies them in silence. His face ripples. Once. Twice. Then he nods.
“Follow me.”
I do. Because I have no choice. And because these blood tourists don’t deserve another second of entertainment at my expense.
The rolling metal gate closes behind us. Lit by my flames, everyone looks orange in the holding room. The magic dampener takes effect. I feel it suffocating my fire and try to fight it.
This place is designed to tear me down, stripping away the base elements of who I am, but I need my magic. I need the heat to keep Luca warm. If I lose it . . .
My flames burn out. My wings retract.
I’m not stronger than the spell.
I’m small. Helpless.
Without the flames, Luca’s face is unnaturally pale, almost gray.
“No, no, no,” I mutter. “We’ve got to keep him warm.”
I glance up, desperate for help.
Ciprian’s face is wet with tears. Alistair’s expression is blank, as unmoving as the petrified manticore. Malach steps into my side and wraps his arms around us both.
I sag into his chest. “Y-you believe me, right, Malach? He’s not gone.”
“If you believe it, I do too.” Malach presses a finger to Luca’s neck—the side not coated with clotted blood. “Luca is a basilisk. Highly venomous. He might be able to withstand the monster’s sting.”
He’s calm. Steady. And as I meet Malach’s green eyes, my confidence grows.
“You may keep him with you until the sun rises,” Riven says. “If he’s not restored by then, I will remove him.”
“I’ll remove your eyes from their sockets and feed them to you if you even try,” I snarl.
Riven looks away, and his amber face flickers with static. Grim satisfaction settles low in my belly. If my tears or rage unsettles him, I’m proud of that.
My days of hiding what Luca means to me are over. Never again will I pretend he’s not the air in my lungs and the heart beating in my chest.
Riven won’t be able to understand that. For a while, I wondered if he might be more human than he seems. Today he proved me wrong. I won’t make the same mistake again.
He unlocks the door and gestures for us to follow.
I consider handing Luca to Malach so my hands are free to snap Riven’s neck, but I don’t want to let Luca go. Not while he’s clinging to life with slippery fingers.
I’ll have to satisfy myself with a clenched jaw and imagining the veydra getting what he deserves. A painful death. Agony that eats him alive. A mind incapable of rest. I can’t kill him yet, but I hope the shame of his actions haunts him until he’s crushed by the weight of it.
As we cross the bridge, I fantasize about pushing him off. Is he exempt from the barrier? Would his bones break when he hit the ground like everyone else’s? I’d love to find out.
He unlocks the birdcage. I imagine slamming the heavy wooden door on his head until his brain drips from his ears.
My skin prickles as I pass him, carefully maintaining my distance. If any part of me touches him right now, I’ll lose it. Then I’ll do whatever it takes to kill him. The best I can do is pretend he doesn’t exist.
The bed is exactly how we left it, neatly made and enormous.
I place Luca on the mattress as gently as I can and drag the blanket on top of him. The others gather around me, silent and tense.
They don’t believe me.
Ciprian is barely stifling sobs, his shoulders shaking in the firelight. Alistair’s eyes flicker between Luca and Ciprian, but he’s shut down. Blocking off his grief, or his worry, or both.
My hands curl around the edge of the blanket. Could I be wrong?
No. I didn’t drag my boyfriend’s corpse into my cell; I carried an injured Luca to my bed. He’s here with me. I know it.
Malach bends to rest his head over Luca’s heart. He’s careful. More tender than I knew he was capable of. It’s hard to watch.
“His heart beats, my truth. It’s slow, but unmistakable. Come. Listen.”
He grabs my hand and drags it over Luca’s chest.
My fingers wobble against his bare skin, and I order them to stop.
The wait is endless.
When I feel the th-thump against my palm, air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I collapse across Luca and my shaking get worse. “Ali, Ciprian, come here.” My voice cracks, then they’re with me, sliding their hands beneath mine.
Luca’s heart beats again, and Alistair melts against my side.
Ciprian drops his forehead to my shoulder. “I thought . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I lift my chin and kiss his cold cheek. “You saved us, Ciprian.”
He scoffs. The sound is bitter. “Are you kidding me? He shook my nightmare off like a piece of lint. The only reason he didn’t notice I wasn’t actually standing in front of him was because you were keeping him busy.”
The door closes. We all jump.
A muscle in my cheek twitches—he doesn’t belong here. Riven doesn’t deserve an insider view of our dynamic. And he certainly hasn’t earned the right to witness emotions he caused. Staying as long as he did was a gross invasion of our nonexistent privacy.
I’m your jailer. That’s what he keeps telling me, right? I sigh, overwhelmed by bitterness. Riven hasn’t pretended to be anything other than a bad guy. Why did I think there might be something else to find? I’m a fool.
“Is there anything we can do to help him?” Alistair’s voice is ragged.
I reach for him. “Hey,” I whisper. “I missed you.”
Alistair stares at me, then strikes, lifting me until my toes barely scrape the floor. “Angel,” he moans. His voice cracks, tearing the word down the middle.
With my arms looped around his neck, I bury my nose in his neck and suck in the scent of him.
Alistair’s lips find mine, chapped and desperate.
The first time he kissed me—a lifetime ago in the Fang—I was consumed by his intensity. That’s still there, but as his lips drag against mine, I see beneath the wildness too. Alistair is terrified.
The realization hits me hard, as if I dunked my face in ice water. It makes me want to protect him from his fear, burst into tears, and admit I’m scared too. You can’t do all that, Celine.
I pull back and swallow around the lump in my throat. “I’ll get us out of here,” I say, cursing the wobble in my voice. “I’ll negotiate a new deal with Riven and—”
“Angel—”
“Or we can try to escape. The tricky part will be getting to the portal, but we’re all together now, so that’s probably our best option—”
“Breathe, Celine. Please,” Alistair begs. “You won a terrible fight. The next battle can wait.”
My chest shudders. “I don’t think I can,” I admit. “You’re afraid, and it’s my fault.”
Alistair frowns.
Ciprian makes a rough sound low in his throat. “He’s not scared of anything out there, hot wings.”
“I can speak for myself, Casanell.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, thanks.” Ciprian narrows his black eyes. Red rimmed, they’re even more bottomless than usual, the pale skin beneath them hollow and bruised.
“Too loud,” Malach mutters. “Luca needs rest.”
“Casanell should sit down and rest too,” Alistair snaps. “There’s a puddle of his blood cooling in the arena as we speak.”
Sighing, I step from the circle of his arms, sit next to Malach on the bed, grab Luca’s hand, and watch the two of them face off.
This confrontation is the latest in a storm that neither of them will allow to blow over.
For a second, I’m able to convince myself that I’m sprawled in my living room watching trash TV. Alistair and Ciprian are the reality stars—armed with enough sexual tension and snark to fuel ten people, but lacking the communication skills to ask where the bathroom is.
On impulse, I link the fingers of my free hand with Malach’s.
“That’s dramatic and inaccurate,” Ciprian drawls. “I had a minor nosebleed. And the blood is definitely frozen by now.”
“Minor? You’ve got to be kidding me. You were completely tapped out, yet you refused to stop.”
Ciprian rolls his eyes. “So I should have done what? Plopped down on the ground, crisscross applesauce, and done nothing?”
“I’m unfamiliar with that expression,” Malach whispers to me.
“Like this.” I draw my feet in and tuck my heels under my aching calves.
Malach repeats the phrase quietly, committing it to memory.
“I never said that.” Alistair bares his fangs “I said to sit the fuck down!”
“Make me,” Ciprian hisses.
I hold my breath. Their chests are almost touching, so close that the flickering firelight barely has room to pass through.
“You’re recklessly belligerent, like that night at the auction. Ignoring logic to storm off—”
“To protect my best friend and save my brother’s life? Yeah, that was crazy behavior. You’re never satisfied with me, are you, Alistair? Either I’m not loyal enough or I’m too loyal. You can’t have it both ways. I’m sick of this shit! You want me to be—”
“Safe,” Alistair snaps, grabbing Ciprian’s shoulders. “I want you to be bloody safe.”
Malach drops his mouth to my ear. “I think they should kiss.”
I snort a startled laugh and turn my head to look at him.
Strong, chiseled features, stoically perfect unless you’re searching for the little imperfections that make his face interesting. The dimple in his chin, the speck of blue surrounded by a sea of green in his right eye. An eye that twinkles with mischief before dipping to my lips.
My mouth goes dry. Ciprian and Alistair’s argument fades to background noise.
How can Malach be the most familiar and unsettling part of my life at the same time? I can’t stand the inconsistency, but I’m not sure if it’s coming from him or me.
I promised him so many things.
Vows I meant.
Vows I broke.
Yet he’s still here.
My heart pulses erratically. Malach thinks they should kiss, but all I can think about is what it would be like to press my lips to his. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. Not with Luca unconscious beside me while Ciprian and Alistair tear verbal chunks out of each other.
But now that I’ve thought about it, I can’t stop.
I lean in. The distance between us closes. My eyes flutter closed.
Then the door opens.