I was vaguely aware that I was speaking, and that each word made the healer turn paler. Rythos bowed his head, and even my friend refused to look into my eyes.
The healer turned and hurried to Prisca’s side. The room was silent.
“Find her brother,” I rasped.
I was in hell. The flames burned me alive until I cried out desperately, begging for it to stop.
Someone was talking in a low, gravelly murmur that both hurt my ears and made me long for the voice to come closer.
There were no words for this kind of agony. Darkness called to me, and I wanted nothing more than to be done with this pain. Done with all of it.
The voice paused, and I ached for it to continue. Somehow, I managed to crack my eyes open to slits. I was on my bed, surrounded by people. Lorian’s eyes met mine.
“Dying.”
“You’re not dying. Don’t be dramatic,” he snarled.
But the deep line between his eyes told me he lied. I attempted a smile, but my eyes were drifting shut once more.
“Tell my brother…brothers…”
“I’ll tell them nothing. You die here, Prisca, and I won’t tell anyone a single fucking thing.”
His hand was cool as it brushed my forehead. What had happened? One minute, I’d been dancing, and the next…
“Poison.”
“Yes. But you will fight it.”
“So tired.”
“I know you’re tired. I know. But they need you.” He leaned closer until his mouth was pressed against my neck, right below my ear. “I need you.”
Was I imagining his words? My eyes were shut, but Lorian was close enough that his scent drifted toward me, and I basked in it.
He lifted his head slightly, and I mourned the loss of his heat. “Those prisoners in the king’s dungeon? If you die, they’re all dead too. All of them. Including your friend and your brother.”
My heart twisted. “Save them.”
“Never. You hear me? You fight, or everyone dies.”
My eyes burned. I opened my mouth to beg, to plead…
Unconsciousness beckoned.
I opened Demos’s door. He was so young, his cheeks rounded. His eyes had a mischievous glint in them, and he gave me a very adult, put-upon look.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m scared.”
He sighed. “Come here.”
He held out his hand and helped me climb onto his bed.
“What are you scared of?”
“I don’t know.” Everything. I was scared of the dark, of the sound the tree made when the branches hit my window. Of the shadow that tree cast on my bedroom wall.
“I think Mama and Papa are scared too,” Demos said.
They couldn’t be scared. They were big.
“They keep whispering.” Demos scowled. “And Mama was crying yesterday.”
“Crying? Truly?” The thought of Mama crying made my stomach hurt.
Something tapped on the window. The tree.
Demos stiffened. He didn’t have a tree outside his window.
“Nelayra, go get Papa.”
I heard fear in Demos’s voice. My feet got tangled in my nightgown as I hit the floor. I ran for the door.
Strong arms came around me. I cried out for my parents, for Demos.
“Shh, it’s okay, little one. Come with me.”
My eyes met Demos’s. He was bound to the wall with dark threads of magic. Papa’s servant had magic just like that. I’d seen him show Papa one day when I’d been hiding in the crawl space near his office.
Demos was roaring, but the black thread across his mouth muffled the sound. I sucked in a breath to scream for our parents, but something was pressed against my face, and I was suddenly so drowsy…
My eyes were sliding closed. I reached for Demos, but the woman was dragging me toward the window.
The next time I opened my eyes, I was in total darkness. I kicked and writhed, punching out at the fabric. A horse snorted beneath me, and in the distance, I could hear my mother’s screams.
“Is she going to be okay?”
I shuddered, still half in my dream where Demos waited for me. The fear and sorrow mixed with the pain in my body until I wished I had the energy to howl.
Was that…Madinia?
“She’s strong.” That was definitely Tibris. His voice was hoarse, filled with pain, and I attempted to open my eyes, but they were far too heavy.
“Why are you here?” Tibris asked. “You made Prisca’s life hell.”
“Prisca? Oh, that’s her real name.”
Lorian let out a low, warning growl. “Forget you ever heard it.”