Chapter 20 #2
The pedestal swam in front of her—two of them, then three, sliding apart like reflections on disturbed water. She wavered, then used her right elbow and forearm to drag her body across the room.
A groan came from her right. Tivan was pulling out of his comatose state, purple hives mottling his skin from head to toe. His eyes were red with broken vessels.
No. Anyone but this asshole.
Gritting her teeth against her wavering vision, she shook her head before opening her eyes once more.
Her vision remained fractured, and Tivan’s form wavered. Three overlapping images of his bloodshot eyes looked more arachnid than humanoid.
His wet breathing was hot against her side, three sets of limbs spidered, his bloodied nails pulling himself forward.
She wished she could squash him like the bug he was, but she was just as exposed by the venom in her veins.
The images shifted back and forth, and Ksenia chose the leftmost pedestal, her hand desperately reaching for the stone lip and finding nothing.
Again, she reached.
Nothing.
Please. PLEASE.
The pedestal refused to hold still for her.
A frustrated scream battered her throat.
A wet, bile-filled laugh escaped Tivan. His three pairs of gleeful eyes were watching her as his hand reached up and closed around the elusive scrap of paper.
She swayed, drunk with rage. Her muscles were tense and shaking.
The sour smell of his sweat overwhelmed her as she crashed into his body, a jumble of limbs competing for the prize he possessed.
He growled, spittle flecking his lip as he protectively curled inward.
He looked at the clue.
He looked at her, eyes red and bright and crazed as he put the clue in his mouth and swallowed.
Ksenia’s fever broke, sweat matting her hair to her temples, and she blearily pushed off the heavy layers of blankets. Left and right, countless beds were empty, their linens pressed and perfect.
Her breath caught in her brittle, dry throat, causing her to hack.
Danika reclined in a bed one row away, her usual pale blue garb exchanged for a plain patient’s tunic.
Her dominant hand was heavily bandaged, and she winced as a nurse removed layer after layer of bandage and gauze to reveal a blistering burn, as if she had been struck by lightning, consuming her palm and most of her forearm.
The edges of her skin were singed, the surface raw and roiling.
This was no ordinary burn. Ksenia fought to sit up for a better view, and the pair cut her a glance.
“You must rest. The venom is still active in your system, so staying immobile is key,” explained the nurse in a tired voice.
“As for you, you’ll need at least a few days’ rest in bed.” She fixed Danika with a knowing look. “If you strain your body too quickly, you’ll suffer long-term nerve damage.”
Danika was despondent when she said, “Yes, I’m aware. I’ll be better about it this time…”
The nurse gave her a reassuring pat before leaving Ksenia and Danika in silence.
Danika’s hair was clean and plaited, but her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her skin was sallow.
Her sister’s gaze swung to her and she spoke softly. “You again.”
Ksenia nodded, her tongue thick and clumsy.
“Are you one of the champions?” Danika’s brown eyes assessed her quickly.
Ksenia nodded. “Aren’t I lucky?”
Danika smiled wryly. “I can’t imagine being in that death trap.”
She swallowed thickly. “Likewise, I can’t imagine what happened to lead to…that.” Her eyes flicked to Danika’s heavily bandaged arm, which was spotted with blood already.
Danika sighed. “My work is often demanding…and dangerous.”
“I’ve never seen a wound from it like that,” Ksenia muttered under her breath, which still carried in the short space between them.
Danika’s eyes narrowed. “I was reckless. Trying something new.”
Ksenia quirked a brow. She couldn’t imagine what Danika was working on that might result in this injury.
She let it go. “I never asked your name.”
“Oh, it’s Danika,” she replied with a small smile.
“Ksenia—” Her name flew out of her mouth automatically. Despite weeks of acting under her foreign identity, her true self was still there, and she found she was relieved.
Danika’s body stiffened, her hand clenching. She winced as the bandages shifted.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes…Yes. It’s just—my sister was also named Ksenia, but she…” The words tapered off as Danika’s voice grew quiet.
Minutes passed, and Ksenia’s heart hollowed as Danika’s doe-brown eyes rimmed with tears.
“She’s gone.”
“I’m…sorry to hear about her passing. You two must have been close.”
“She was my baby sister, and I should have never let her go alone that night.” Danika’s head rested back against the pillow, a tear streaming into her hairline.
Ksenia stilled, witnessing the guilt tearing her sister from within.
“What happened?”
Danika ignored her question, closing her eyes softly. “You know, you kind of remind me of her.”
Ksenia bit her tongue, weighing whether this was as good a time as any to reveal herself.
Through the many layers of stone above them, Ksenia’s bondsense picked out an unholy sound. It shook her inner being like an earthquake. Danika’s eyelids shot open and she paused in her movements, sensing.
It came again, louder, like seismic aftershocks.
Their eyes locked, Danika’s narrowed.
“Who are you.”
“Niks—”
She flinched, like she’d been struck. “Who told you that name?”
Ksenia kept her voice low, steady. She kept her hands out before her, despite every instinct screaming for her to just grab her sister and run. “No one told me. I know it because it’s me, it’s Senna.”
Danika pressed herself into her cot, her breath coming in short bursts. Tears broke free and tracked down her face. “I saw her head on the gates.”
“I know.” This wasn’t the tender, disarming, sisterly conversation Ksenia had hoped for. She brought her palms up. “Danika—”
Please see me.
The commotion drew the attention of the nursing staff at the end of the hall, and one of them made their way over.
Danika waved off the nurse and pushed herself off the bed with a pained cry.
“Danika. You need rest!”
“I’ll rest in my quarters, thank you.” She hobbled forward, and the nurse outfitted her with a sling, shooting Ksenia a dirty look.
Ksenia was beside herself, hands clenched.
Suddenly, she doubled over, her vision turning red and every sensation in her body heightening.
The beat of her heart rushed into her ears, warming the blood in her veins, and the need to fight and take life overtook her. Her pupils narrowed, adrenaline coursing, and she flung herself out of the bed. She swayed on woozy and unsteady feet and pushed past the last few medical staff.
She clambered up the staircase, past servants and castle attendants, and out of the grand foyer where nobles shot her dirty looks and shouted when she jostled through them.
The bloodlust had never filled her mind and body like this before, and she wasn’t sure what would happen if she stayed around innocent people.
It was unlike Vornaya’s call, who barbed her mind with horrific hallucinations and taunts but never drove her into a bloodied frenzy.
This was primal, deep, and unquenchable.