Page 59 of Fated In Ruin
I eyed the dark liquid warily. “What is it?”
“An emergency healing tonic. Not as strong as Sylvester’s magic, but this will stabilize you until he arrives.”
I hesitated, then took the flask and swallowed. The taste was bitter, burning all the way down, but warmth spread through me almost instantly, dulling the sharpest edges of the pain. I sagged into the couch, tension bleeding into dull relief.
“What about…is Angel safe?” Whatever was in that bottle turned my tongue thick. “You have to get her somewhere safe, her…and Bex…and everyone else…too dangerous here.”
Blake crouched down beside me. “Angel and Bex are safe, Evie.” His voice was softer, but no less firm. “We evacuated all nonessential personnel from Crimson House, like you suggested. Nash is building up our forces, but we don’t have the numbers for a direct assault yet. This is the reality. We have an entire clan to protect, of which Malachi Draven is not a member.”
I clenched my fingers around the bottle. “What do we do? Sit here while Ravok kills him? Wait until that monster comes for us?”
“No,” Riordan said. “Fiona’s working to find a way to kill Ravok, but she needs time.”
“And,” Blake shrugged. “Ravok holding Malachi prisoner will buy us that time.” I just stared at the utter callousness, but…hadn’t I been just as hateful two days ago? Hadn’t I landed at Malachi’s castle ready to stab a knife into his heart and ash his body for good measure?
Yes, I had.
Maybe there was something wrong with me. Somehow, I’d gone from burning his world down to joining Team Malachi in the space of a few days.
Maybe Stockholm syndrome was real.
But this was wrong. Every second we wasted here was another second Malachi suffered.
Riordan must have seen my struggle in my face because he sighed and placed a hand on my arm. “Look, we’ll do what we can, but first, you need a healer, blood, and sleep.”
I wanted to argue. To fight. To scream. But the weight of exhaustion bore down on me, my limbs growing heavier by the second.
“We sent for Sylvester,” Riordan said. “He’ll be here soon.”
I nodded, “he’ll probably just torture me,” I muttered, my mind racing, heart still pounding with the knowledge that Malachi was suffering in the hands of a monster, while I was going to spend the night in my own bed, safe and sound.
Healing after falling out of the sky, but still.
Ravok was cruelty personified, he had a thousand years of rage, and Malachi at his mercy. Suddenly, I bitterly regretted every single taunt I’d made about all the awful things Ravok would do, if he ever caught Malachi.
Because right now, they were probably all coming true.
I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the globe. Malachi’s last gift. His last words, telling me to live my life. The haunted expression when he told me I wouldn’t be one of his mistakes.
I couldn’t stop thinking how his expression perfectly matched the way I seemed to always feel, like the weight of my faults somehow grew heavier over time, never lighter.
And all of a sudden, that life he wanted me to live seemed awfully empty without him in it.
26
MALACHI
Rusty chains bit into my wrists, the metal caked with my own congealing blood. My head lolled forward, sweat matted hair sticking to my forehead. The cell reeked of damp and old iron, the vinegar sourness of piss and something more acrid hanging in the air. My ribs burned hot with every shallow breath, bruised from Dante Silverwood’s last round ofentertainment.
The taste of copper lingered on my tongue, no matter how many times I swallowed.
Evie got away.
Footsteps rang down the narrow corridor, so slow and deliberate I forced my head up, blinking the two figures into focus when they stepped into the dim light. “Look at you two, Ravok’s loyal dogs. Here to inspect your brother’s handiwork?”
Silas and Alistair were decaying beyond recognition, their eyes empty of anything resembling a soul. They weren’t even normal thralls, because from the stench, their bodies were rotting around them.
And they didn’t even know it.
