Chapter Twenty-Four Jasalyn

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jasalyn

"T HERE YOU ARE, " K ENDRICK SAYS, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

I stiffen—not for the reason I've recoiled from touch for three years, but because this man holds my heart in his hands. I put it there despite all Skylar's warnings. All his warnings. And I can't even ask him not to break it. It turns out neither of us has a future of our own to promise.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah." I scan his face, dodging those beautiful ice-blue eyes. He's promised to another, and I'm being chased by the ticking clock that's counting down to my eighteenth birthday.

He spins me around to face him and rubs his hands up and down my bare arms. "You sure?"

"Just a little cold and tired."

"I need to stay here for a couple more hours, but you can go back to the house if you want."

I search his face as if it might explain why he never told me he was promised to another. He tried to tell you. "I don't want you to keep things from me. No matter how much they might hurt. If you really think I'm so strong, prove it by telling me the hard things."

The space he puts between us is fractional, but it might as well be miles. "I was trying to protect you from it. Until I see Mordeus for myself, I—"

"What?" At the back of my mind, Kendrick's words from yesterday click into place. I'll kill him myself when we find him. When we find him. I lift my head and hold his gaze. "You believe Mordeus is back."

His expression goes blank. "What were you talking about?"

"Who you are to them." I shake my head. Mordeus is back. I've suspected all this time, but to understand that Kendrick believes it makes it too real. "How long have you known the Mordeus rumors are true?"

He searches my face for a long time, and the silence stretches taut between us, threatening to snap. "I suspected when I saw your scars and you said they were from Mordeus. Only scars from blood magic are delayed like that."

Blood magic. They also talked about that the night at the campsite. He and Natan discussed it as if it might be the reason Natan couldn't find my powers. I'd meant to ask about it, but then I blacked out and I was too busy recovering to think of it.

Kendrick takes my hand and skims his thumb over the knot of scar tissue on my wrist. "Blood magic was forbidden long ago, but some still use it." He swallows hard. "When I saw your scars and you confirmed they were from your time in Mordeus's captivity, I suspected the rumors about his resurrection were true—or perhaps he was never dead at all. When wounds don't leave marks until much later, when scars suddenly appear like yours did, it's a sign that the magic is being called upon."

I shiver. "What does that mean— called upon ?"

"Blood magic allows the caster to draw power from their subject. It's not unlike the tethering Mab's line was blessed with, where one faerie can use the power of another. Except blood magic doesn't require a gift from the gods, only pain and suffering, and in some cases fear. Each wound inflicted as part of the spell becomes a small deposit of magical power that can be accessed by the caster at a later date. I knew he was alive because one cannot call on blood magic from the grave."

"No." I shake my head. "I would know if he was pulling from me." Wouldn't I?

"I don't think it works like that. The only way of knowing is by seeing the scars appear."

"So you knew." I pull my wrist from his grasp and retreat a step. "That was days ago."

"I know."

My stomach roils. "We discussed his resurrection after you saw my scars, you said it was unlikely. You told me you thought someone was pretending to be him."

He sets his jaw. "I told you what you needed to hear."

"You lied to me." It's easier to focus on this than try to grapple with what it all means. Easier to latch on to the omissions of the man in front of me than to contemplate that my existence might somehow be helping—strengthening— a monster. "So is that how he did it? Am I responsible for his resurrection?"

"No. Nothing like that. If he's back, there's another explanation. Blood magic is powerful, but it can't bring someone back from the grave."

"You still should've told me. You are supposed to be the one I can trust."

"I didn't want to say anything until I had solid evidence."

"And would you have told me then? Once you had your evidence ?"

He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. "I don't know."

I recoil. Three words never hurt so much. "I thought we were a team , but you're keeping things from me. I thought I was part of your mission, but maybe I'm nothing more than a tool."

His voice drops to a low rumble. "You know that's not true."

"Do I? You know what a mark Mordeus left on me. You know how much he haunts me. And you kept this horrible truth a secret."

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the careful blankness of before is gone and his expression twists with raw emotion. "I've had informants in the Midnight Palace for months, Jasalyn. They tell me you've been a shell of a person since moving there. They tell me your sister had your maid search your chambers for knives because she believed you might hurt yourself—or worse. So, no. I didn't want to tell you. I was afraid of what you might do if you knew that Mordeus was not only back but that he was using all that pain he once caused you to become stronger. Can you blame me?"

Can I blame him? He's right. The idea that Mordeus is somehow drawing power from me makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. Three short months ago, when I hadn't heard a single rumor of Mordeus's return and when I had no idea he was drawing power from me, I traded my life for a mere taste of vengeance.

"What else are you keeping from me?" I snap, ignoring my internal alarm that warns how hypocritical I'm being. Kendrick isn't the only one keeping secrets.

"Hale!" Remme calls, jogging to reach us. He's flushed and out of breath. Natan follows shortly behind.

Kendrick's brow wrinkles as he turns his attention to his friend. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Isaak of Lune has returned."

Kendrick straightens. "I was convinced he'd met his end."

"We all were," Remme says. His eyes are bright, but he gives me a strange look—as if he doesn't want me to overhear this. "He was captured and being held at the Wasted Burrows, but now he's back and he's not alone."

"She's alive, Hale," Natan says softly. "Crissa's alive and has been returned to us."

"Crissa?" I say the name aloud before I can stop myself. There's no way it can be the same person. What are the chances that these humans would be looking for the same human girl I've been wishing I could save?

"She's from Elora," Remme says, gaze drifting my way before quickly darting away. "She's important to us."

Kendrick's face has gone pale, and when he looks at me, there's something like pity in his eyes. "We thought she was dead." He says it like an apology, and I don't understand.

Skylar joins us next, chest rising and falling quickly as if she ran here. "Did you hear?"

"Mordeus put a girl named Crissa in my cell," I say quickly. I have to know. "She was my age, and she had this silky white hair. She always believed she'd be rescued. She said she had people coming for her." I bite my bottom lip. "She knew these incantations that would help me calm myself when I started to panic."

Skylar releases a puff of laughter. "That's our Crissa."

"We're sure it's her?" Kendrick asks.

"Yes," Natan says. "Isaak had a vision and went out to find her. He was captured trying to get to her, but then he found a way out. With Crissa. "

Skylar beams. "Isaak's back, and Crissa's alive." She claps her hands. "What a day."

"Where are they?" Kendrick asks.

"They've been taken to the infirmary," Natan says. "Isaak is in such rough shape I don't know how he made it here, and Crissa's unconscious. Our healers are tending to them both."

"They're expecting you," Skylar says. "I'll stay with your slayer here."

I fold my arms. "No. I'm going." Everyone stares at me like this is a terrible idea. "Before Kendrick was thrown into the cell across from mine, Crissa was my only friend in those dungeons. She made herself weak to the point of unconsciousness trying to help me through. I want to see her."

Skylar cringes. "I don't think—"

"She can come," Kendrick says, and everyone stares at him as if he just suggested I could fly.

"Thank you," Kendrick says when we've cleared everyone out of the infirmary. Their friend Isaak was beat up pretty badly, limping and bruised but healing. He's already been sent home to rest.

I look at Crissa, her small body laid out on the bed, the blankets wrapped around her. She's so small. There's a tug-of-war in my chest. Relief and guilt and gratitude and fear. "Will she be okay?" I ask. "She was unconscious in the dungeons when they took her away. But I thought..." I thought that once she stopped draining herself trying to protect me, she'd recover. Or I hoped.

"We came for her," Kendrick says. "Just like she knew we would. She was okay last I saw her. Weak but conscious."

I lift my gaze to his, eyes wide. "That's why you were in there right after she left. You traded yourself for her?" Of course. Of course he would. Of course he did.

His jaw ticks. "I made a deal with Mordeus to get her out of there."

"Kendrick—"

"Don't. Don't look at me like I'm a hero." He looks away. "I did what I thought was right that day. But then she was lost again, and I was left wondering if it was all for nothing."

"And why do you question it now?" I catch sight of something sharp and shiny from the corner of my eye, but when I look, it's only Crissa's hand curling into a fist on top of the blanket. "Who is she?" I know who Crissa is to me, but she's obviously important to them as well.

His chest expands as he turns to me. "I truly believed we'd lost her for good this time." He searches my eyes, then his hungry gaze lands on my mouth. His nostrils flare, and his pupils dilate. "I've never wanted to be selfish so badly in my life."

I back away and my thighs hit the bed. Because I know. I think I knew the moment his friends surrounded him with the news of her return, but seeing the agony in his eyes drives it home. "She's your queen." My voice is dull. Empty. "That's why she knew so much magic despite being mortal. She's the one the oracle said would be queen." I swallow. "And you bargained for her freedom because, as her future king, your job is to protect her."

The ache in my heart is reflected in his eyes as he speaks. "I've never turned away from my duty to the rightful kingdom of Elora—to the people of Elora. I don't have the privilege of choosing with my heart. I need you to understand—" Kendrick takes a breath, then his eyes go wide. "Jasalyn, run."

I spin around and immediately back into Kendrick's chest. A scaly, winged beast unfurls from the mattress where Crissa lay just moments before.

Kendrick grabs my hand and drags me out of the infirmary and into the street. "Wyvern!" he screams. "Remme! Skylar!"

A horrible, beastly cry comes from inside the infirmary, and in the next breath, the building is ablaze, flames licking the sky, and the wyvern is tearing out through the roof, angry wings beating.

"Shelter!" Kendrick shouts to the crowd. "Get to the underground shelter. Now!"

I tear my gaze from the beast and find chaos. People around us run in every direction. I can taste their panic in the air.

The wyvern swoops toward us and opens its mouth with an angry cry. Kendrick throws his hands out, and the fire that rolls from the beast's mouth is deflected—blunted as if hitting an invisible wall.

"Jas, get to the storm shelter on the other side of the town square. If you see Remme or Skylar, tell them to meet me on the roof of the apothecary."

The wyvern screeches again and then a trail of fire pours from its mouth and onto a row of cottages. Those were people's homes.

"You'll be an easy target on the roof!"

He glares at me. "You're not moving fast enough."

I stare at him for a long, painful beat of my heart. I don't want to leave him, but if I stay, I will only be a distraction. I wish I had magic. I wish I had something other than this stupid ring. "I will never forgive you if you die," I shout.

"Then get in the shelter so I don't have to worry about you."

With one last look in his direction, I enter the chaos and run toward the opposite side of the square.

The wyvern screeches again, and this time when it unleashes its fire on the village, screams of pain tear into my eardrums and the stench of burning flesh fills the air.

Behind me, fire races across the dry grass, licking at my heels. I don't dare turn to look.

I run as hard as I can, never allowing myself to glance back but thinking of Kendrick and my friends with every step. Please be okay. Please don't die.

Behind me, I hear the shouts of people preparing for battle.

The door to the storm shelter is already open, and people are running down the stairs, but several yards away, two girls are kneeling on a patch of scorched earth and clinging to a blistered form.

I cut in their direction and grab their arms, pulling them toward the shelter.

"Mama!" the girls scream, yanking out of my grasp and dropping back to the ground.

Their mother is long gone—nothing but carnage from the wyvern's attack.

"You have to come with me," I shout. "You need to get to shelter."

The girls link their hands together and squeeze. "Families stay together," the oldest says.

They're so young and so desperate—not so different than Brie and I were when our mother left us. We would've done anything to have her back. My chest aches for them.

Arrows fly through the air, and the wyvern dodges, then screeches again before raining more fire onto the village.

"Your mom would want you to go to shelter," I say. I don't touch them again. My strength is nothing against the adrenaline of trauma and desperation. "Please come with me. She would want you to live."

The fire behind me is reflected in the eyes of the youngest as she screams at me. "No!" Her chest shakes with her sobs.

I glance over my shoulder where people are still streaming into the underground shelter. I need to get these girls down there before it fills.

I remove my ring from the bodice of my dress and take a deep breath before sliding it on.

"Please come with me," I say before she can look away. "I want you to come with me into the shelter."

Her expression changes immediately and her body relaxes. "Can I stay next to you?" she asks, already standing. "I would feel less scared if I were by your side."

Her sister turns around, and I see the moment my magic locks onto her. "Can I come too?" she asks.

"Please." I wave my hand for her to follow. "Let's go now."

We climb down into the cellar, and I urge the girls to take a seat on the floor. It's crowded, and there's barely enough room for the three of us. We made it.

"Here." An old man stands on shaky legs when I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Take my seat."

"I'm fine," I tell him. "You sit, please."

Everyone's staring at me, so I go to remove my ring.

Only it doesn't move.

I try again.

It's stuck.