Chapter 59
Fifty-Nine
- MARCELLA -
Present day
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head at the memory of the blood oath I struck with the hooded man. “No, no, no. Please, no!” I scream into the empty throne room as I can’t will my hands to remove the dagger from Cyrus.
Black blood smears across his skin, his hair. Contrasted heavily against his light features. His eyes shift behind his eyelids.
“Cyrus, can you hear me?” I lean closer to his face. “Open your eyes, please! Fight me!”
His eyes slowly peek open, before they shift to me. Opening a little more when they connect with mine.
“You have to fight me,” I whisper brokenly. “Please.”
Lifting a weak hand, he cups my cheek. “Did they all get out?”
I nod, unable to form a word without breaking completely.
A shaking grin lifts his lips, a haze of peace in his eyes. “I meant it when I said my heart is yours…whether you wish to keep it, or slay it.”
His other hand he rests over mine on the dagger.
“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.
I thought I could shove it away. That perhaps I could find someone new.
But the fact of the matter is that anyone I see…
anyone I tried to shift my affections to, all I could think of was you.
All I could ever see, dream of, think of… was you.”
The oath with the hooded man keeps me frozen. Calls for me to bleed him out. To end him. And yet, staring at the man in front of me, gentle as ever with kind hands and a loving gaze…
All this time I tried to deny it.
Tried to deny that the thing between us—the warmth and the adoration and devotion—wasn’t real. That it was all one-sided and I couldn’t possibly reflect it.
But as he confesses slowly, “I love you, Marcella Briarstone.” It snaps my heart like a brittle bone, splintering me into pieces that shred my chest with each breath. Instantly, everything that means something to me, is right here, in front of me. A breath away from being gone forever.
“You’ll find me in the stars,” he croaks.
Tears slip down my cheeks, and with a broken sob, I lean forward into him. Forehead first, and then I capture him in a kiss. Wishing the love flooding my heart would be enough to stop this. Enough to right the wrongs—to seal him to me.
His hands hold my face. Our mouths move over each other, again and again. Warm and painfully sweet. Slowly, his movements drag. Until his lips stop moving completely. His hands slide off my face, flopping to the ground as his head sags to the side.
“Cyrus?” I cry, frantically brushing his hair back and waiting for his closed eyes to open again.
His expression is peaceful. A deathly calm falls over him.
The warmth in him begins to fade. The magic choking the willpower in my hand dwindles until I’m able to pry a finger off the dagger one at a time.
Until eventually I remove my hands completely.
The tingling in my body settles to nothing, snapping away completely.
I’ve fulfilled my agreement.
I’ve killed him.
“Someone help!” I cry over my shoulder, my voice echoing into the ruined and vacant room. My heart is as empty as the castle itself. In a half-hearted attempt that is more instinctual than it is hopeful, I scream, “Please!”
I rip the dagger out of his chest and fling it across the room behind me. My hands are stained in a glittery black as I shakily pat his face. “Please come back. Please. I love you. I love you, too. And I’m sorry I hadn’t told you sooner.”
But he doesn’t stir.
The tears spill free until I’m sobbing and pulling his limp body into mine, wrapping him in my arms and shifting at his heavy weight.
I’m unable to think about my broken, bloodied arm.
Unable to think around the pain that’s in my heart.
As I lean my forehead onto his, my eyes close as I shake with the overwhelming sense of grief.
What am I going to do?
I suck in a breath between my cries. When I lift my head enough to stare at his serene face, smudged with black blood, the liquid shimmers in the moonlight.
I freeze. Caught in a thought.
I’ve seen that before...
I frantically pull the vial I took from Lady Bethany’s room out of my pocket and shake it to confirm.
Sparkles swish in the dark liquid, like stars in the midnight sky.
Just like the black blood smeared across the room.
I rip the cork off with my teeth and hold it over the gaping wound in his chest.
Closing my eyes, I pray to the Gods.
Please—I know I’ve scorned you before. But please don’t let this be the end. If you’re listening, please let this work. I beg of you.
I open my eyes and tilt the vial until it’s pouring into his chest. It glugs until it’s empty, and I set it on the ground next to me.
Scooping his head once more, I press my forehead against him.
Scared that if I linger in the hope too long, it’ll only hurt more.
But even more terrified to let it go. To have to figure out how to live without him.
“Come back to me,” I whisper, shaking my forehead against his as I rock back and forth. “Please come back to me.”
A warmth radiates beneath me. Small at first, then larger. A breath in a pair of lungs shifts beneath me. I fling up, finding color seeping back into Cyrus’ face. Scrambling to get his attention, I start kissing his face, stroking his cheek, and whispering desperate pleas.
He slowly opens his eyes.
It worked.
“Marcella?” he croaks as his eyes connect with mine. Distant and hazy, yet alive.
I half cry, half laugh. Pressing my forehead to his as I hold his jaw in my hands, my tears turning from grief to breathtaking relief. His hand finds the side of my face. And we sit there, alone in the dark room, crying and holding each other.