Chapter 71
Larkspur
Caym’s wretched hand dropped from my throat, and a flash of light filled the cavern. I gasped in a lung full of air.
When the light cleared, Caym’s decaying face fell; his reign crumbled at his feet.
He slumped forward in satisfying, slack-jawed shock. His skin peeled back from his gaping mouth, shriveling before he let out a final shriek, then he burst into thousands of amber particles. The dust slammed into the dark gritted walls, rattling them.
The guards dissipated, and though we were alone now, my arm hair still stood on end. A rumble shook the cave, and the molten rock quaked. Cracks deepened in the plateau beneath us.
“Princess, the stone,” Emmerick commanded as he got to his feet, dragging me up with him.
My body felt like a rag doll; icy fear slid down my back, and every muscle grew stiff.
I’d been so close to losing it all.
Failure had been imminent just moments prior.
“Dritan,” I whispered. “Where is…”
A large hand guided me to pivot.
When my sight caught on my lover, splayed over the rocks, reaching for me, I sobbed as I ran to him and turned him onto his back. Dritan’s throat gurgled as he took raspy breaths.
“Quickly, now!” Emmerick urged. My gaze met his, and his body shielded us from the falling lava with a wince as Death’s domain rained down. We’d destroyed it.
“You—”
“Now, Lark!”
Saved us.
He didn’t let me tell him—there was no time.
I yanked the golden stone from my pocket and forced it to Dritan’s lips before kissing it too. Then I planted my lips over Dritan’s, praying to the Sources this would work.
Moonlight leaked through the windows of the South Tower. The Origins were gone.
I felt my torso.
Solid.
A large oval of salt circled Emmerick and I. He lay so still, with a brow etched in pain.
“Dritan?” I called out, unable to see whether he was awake on the table above. When no answer came, my worry spiked, and I sat up too quickly, head dizzy.
I scrambled to my feet, dread turning to relief when Dritan propped up onto his elbows. With a groggy stare, he took in the strange room.
“Are you hurt? Are you alright?” Sources, he was whole—his chest no longer gaped open. He sat up, slinging his legs over the side of the table.
“Lark?” His voice cracked.
I threw myself onto him. His arms felt heavy as they wrapped around me.
He grunted and said, “Careful now... I almost lost a heart.”
“Over my dead body,” I grumbled into the collar of his tunic.
Dritan stiffened. I reeled back to watch his gaze land on his father. “Is he…”
“Alive. Under the Sethe curse,” I answered. “But that cave… that place…”
My mind spiraled with worst-case scenarios.
I hadn’t landed the killing blow; I’d failed.
Emmerick remained trapped. I did not know whether he could make it out of Death’s domain.
I’d have to look Aunt Elsedora in the eye and tell her we’d put the man she loves back under a cursed sleep, back in danger, and hope she could wake him.
The stone!
I searched my pocket.
And found it empty.