Page 139 of The Art of Exiley
Blood wells up through the cut, and I aim its drip directly into Rafe’s mouth. Adrenaline and Ha’i are rushing through me with such strong force that I see the bleeding slow and the skin around the wound tighten as my body tries to heal itself. I jab at the cut with the point of the knife to keep the blood flowing. Somehow, my mind drowns out the pain. I feel likean outside observer, watching as the warm life inside me spurts out of the messy wound onto Rafe’s lips.
Kor shifts away from us, and I catch an expression on his face that can’t be described as anything other than hunger.
“Should we retreat?” I hear Roman ask Kor.
But I don’t hear Kor’s response as Rafe blinks and swallows my blood spilling into his mouth. So much blood. Until, in a ragged voice, he says, “Enough.” He grips my arm. “Sing me your strength.”
I don’t understand, but in this moment, I’ll do whatever he asks. If he wants me to sing, I’ll sing. So I discard the blade and begin to hum “Yosef HaLevi’s Nocturne.” The cut in my arm knits together as I watch the effect of my blood slowly helping Rafe. He grasps my hands with his as I hum.
And then something in the air changes. I feel Rafe’s Ha’i doubling, tripling, amplifying to levels I would have never thought possible. His body trembles as his Sire healing kicks into overdrive.
Rafe gasps and sits up sharply, his wounds already sealing shut.
The sound of a trumpet forces my gaze up the cliff, where I see the Avant Guard assembled with what looks like a large crossbow the size of a truck. A figure breaks away from the rest, spreads their wings, and flies down to us. It’s Grey. He lands in front of Rafe, blocking him from any potential threat.
“Your Highness, I know you instructed the Guard to hold, but Simon flew up the cliff to alert us that you had been attacked,” Grey explains.
Simon? Flew all the way up the cliff? Good for him.
Grey draws a long sword, turning to glare at Kor, who is scrambling toward the submarine, Alfie and Roman right behind him. “Go ahead,” Grey yells after them, “board your vessel. The ballista will make quick work of it, and you.” We all look up to the cliff, where the Guard have aimed the giant crossbow—or rather, the ballista, another one of da Vinci’s originaldesigns—straight at the sub. The three young men stop running, and Grey relieves them of their weapons.
Rafe stands confidently. Blood coats his chest from a wound that is now nothing more than a ragged scar through the eye of the dragon tattoo that guarded his heart.
He says to Grey, “You and all the Guard witnessed that despite what this man did, he also helped to save my life. Let that be considered when their fate is decided.”
Grey bows his head. “We will inform the Council.”
Rafe turns to Kor. “Are you willing to cooperate now?”
Kor looks up at the Guard and then at me.
“You don’t have a choice,” I say, trying to communicate with my eyes that he should trust me.
Kor nods.
Rafe asks, “Do you have any more of the antimatter bullets and weaponized gas?”
“Yes.”
“What about more men?”
“Two more men. I can retrieve them and the remaining antimatter weapons.” Kor steps toward the water’s edge, where the submarine waits, partially submerged. I’m surprised he’s agreed. He seems a little too eager to get into the submarine, which makes me nervous.
“Not without supervision,” Grey growls. He restrains Alfie and Roman with spidersilk ties and then moves to accompany Kor into the sub. “I warn you, philistine”—he again motions to the Guard standing in wait at the top of the cliff—“if you try anything while inside the vessel, they will not hesitate to obliterate it.”
Soon after they enter, the sub powers down, and then Kor is coming back out, followed by two terrified men. One looks like he is probably thecaptain of the submarine, and the other one I recognize as the security guard Rafe incapacitated on North Brother Island. Grey is close behind them carrying a large black duffel, presumably containing their weapons.
As Kor allows Kaylie to bind his hands, I can’t help but notice that his cheeks are once again suffused with color, and his strength seems to have been restored.
Grey and Kaylie lead the five men into the station.
With all concerned onlookers gone, Rafe staggers, and I guide him to sit on a rock.
A shadow falls over us as a cloud blocks the setting sun. Rafe looks up and smiles, and my eyes follow his.
No, not a cloud.
Massive wings and shining black scales eclipse the sky. I see a whipping tail, sharp claws, and fierce, intelligent eyes. And then the majestic creature lands in front of us, Prince Alexander riding astride its back.
