I don’t answer. We both know the answer already.
“I sit here holding a figment of my imagination.” The laugh that escapes him begins to morph into something cruel. “You know the consequence for this, don’t you?” Any panic, any softness in his tone has hardened. “You will be burned,” he says with finality, releasing me.
Eventually, he stands and offers his hand. I take it, and he never lets go. I walk hand and hand with death, just as I always have.
I will not burn.
I will not die.
I have tried to. Too many times.
Things bigger than him, bigger than they can imagine keep my corpse from rotting and my heart from stopping.
The castle is silent except for the wet squelch of boots in blood. Carcasses lie draped over golden trim like meat on a banquet table. Crimson stains run down marble walls like veins.
We reach the ballroom. Felix and Kalix are moving through the dead, checking for any signs of life. Healers are already at work, guiding the refugees to the mess hall. Iris remains by the throne, staring blankly over the room.
Cage releases my hand. He walks to Kalix, the two speaking in low, grave murmurs. No one greets him. No one rejoices. Grief chokes out every other emotion.
I approach Iris slowly. “Iris, are you all right?”
She turns to me with a radiant, chilling smile. “I am perfect. I amperfection!”Her laughter is edged with mania. Magic arcs like static over her skin. I stop asking questions, finding it prudent to avoid pushing the conversation further. She’s too far gone, swept up in whatever current she rides.
I begin to walk the room, mimicking the others, trying to keep my hands busy, my mind steady.
That’s when Ollie returns, panicked, trembling.
“Me Misses, please, we must speak at once!”
The urgency in his voice cuts through the haze like a blade.
“What is it, Ollie?”
“Arcadia, not good, not good!”
Ice floods my veins. My skin dampens instantly, my hands shaking. “What about Arcadia?”
Ollie lands on my shoulder, his body vibrating with fear.
Images begin to flash in my mind, his memories bleeding into mine. What he’s seen. What he’s felt.
My heart clenches and then—stops. A scream tears from my mouth, silent and shrill, the kind that scrapes your soul raw. My body collapses inward, buckling to my knees as agony detonates through me. I see her again and again—Arcadia. And the pain only grows.
Everything I love dies.
I am not followed by death.
I am death.
Chapter 49
Arcadia
I RIP A FEW GOWNS from my closet, cramming them into my bag with shaking hands. Blood oozes steadily down my back, hot and sticky, soaking into the fabric as tears streak down my face.
Every breath burns. The wounds my familiar sustained are carved into my soul. I cinch the bag tight and sling it over my shoulders. I burst through the doors and sprint toward the forest.
I don’t look back. My breath begins to rasp as the drug they slipped me invades my system all over again.
