Aelia sits up straight. “What?”
“No,” I say, panic swirling in my chest again. “She’s still dead. Her spirit . . .” I can’t smell her spark at all. And I can’t take her back like this. I can’t leave her broken and lost. Not this girl.
The wise man shakes his head, his odd bird’s nest hat flopping to the side. “She’s all tucked tight in there, safe and sound. The child she is, it’s lovely to have found her at last.”
I stare at Sage’s cold body. What am I missing? Even in hibernation, a fire elemental carries a sense of life, though it’s weak. Heat in the body, color in the skin, a fluttering energy left behind, like dying embers. But Sage is a corpse, her skin now tinged in violet, dark circles rimming her eyes.
“Which one?” Lailoken asks, bringing my attention back to him.
Aelia frowns. “Which what, weirdo?”
I consider warning her away from insulting the powerful man but decide it’s useless. I’m getting annoyed in a grand way myself.
“Which one”—the wise man’s brow goes up—“will feed the princess?”
NINETEEN
FAELAN
He wants us to feed Sage? He knows it’s not safe to feed a demi before she’s learned to control her powers—definitely not a demi who manifests fire.
In normal circumstances, it would be a deadly plan, but with Sage being a corpse, I’m not sure what it means. She would have to link in to her prey; she’d have to initiate the connection to pull life. Aelia and I can’t just pour our energy over her.
The wise man appears to be considering the two of us, like he’s trying to decide whom to toss overboard. “The druid would work, I think,” he finally says. “If she’s gobbled up in a blink, it won’t be much trouble. Useless any day of the week.” He shrugs.
“What a gentleman,” Aelia says.
I’m dead either way because Marius is going to kill me if I bring back a corpse. “I’ll do it,” I say. Obviously, it’s going to be me. I would never put my leader’s daughter in harm’s way, even though, at this stage in the death, it would be less dangerous.
Gods, it’s been more than an hour since Kieran sliced her open and bled her dry.
Aelia looks nervous but she scoots back, opening up room for me to lie beside the demi’s body. I pull off my torque to allow myself to be as open as possible, then I slide off my shirt before settling in the clover. “It’s fine, Lia,” I say. “It’s worth a shot.”
She just shakes her head, biting her lip.
“Ah, good, good, Mr. Winter,” Lailoken says, standing and moving to the table, plucking up one of the bottles. “A little pinch of devil’s bane and thornblood.” He pulls out the cork and sprinkles black dust over my chest. “This should spark the flame.” He smiles down on me like I’m a loaf of bread he’s about to toss in the oven. He motions to Sage. “Now take her hand and place it on your chest.”
“Thornblood will make the connection too strong,” Aelia says, sounding worried now. “Shouldn’t we at least find some wolfsbane for protection? I can form a light ring with it.”
Lailoken scoffs. “Foolishness. Nothing counters thornblood except mapleweed. Typical druid.”
“Whatever, old fart, if you get my friend killed, I’ll turn you into a toad.”
“Unless I make you warty and green first.” Lailoken grins wickedly.
I reach over and pick up Sage’s limp wrist. “Let’s just get it over with.” I place her arm across my chest, pressing her palm down on my sternum with my other hand.
My pulse speeds up, but I brush away the thought of what I’m doing. I don’t think about the danger or the possible uselessness of this whole thing. Because what if nothing happens? Or what if something does? Either way, I’m royally bolloxed.
The chill of Sage’s skin is striking, and I have to focus on not feeling it, not feeling her death, as I turn my head to look at her and say the usual invitation, wondering if she can even hear me. “You may take from me if you need to.”
Everything is still, silent. Even Lailoken’s fingers tapping on the table fade into the background.
“Demi,” I say, “don’t be afraid, take what you need.” I add in a whisper, “It’s okay, Sage.”
Something pricks the center of my chest, shocking me, and I hiss in a breath.
Did she just pull from me? She must have, she—
Pain shoots again, a needle jabbing my skin under her palm. A slight burn fills the spot before spreading out and coating my torso with a hum of warmth.
It’s her. She’s alive. My relief is palpable, a lifting of the million pounds that landed on my back the second I walked into that alley tonight.
I close my eyes and make myself breathe through the growing sting, beginning to let my skin receive the life energy under my back and arms, everywhere I’m touching green.
“It’s working,” I hear Aelia say somewhere in the distance. “Her wounds are healing. She’s going to be okay . . .”
Every part of me is suddenly focused on the touch of a hand on my skin as Sage’s palm begins to twitch. Her fingers flex against me. Then they slide up my chest, slowly, painfully. I clench my teeth against the sting replacing her touch.
Her body shifts closer. The heat spreads, the stinging becoming a fever that fills my skin, sinking deep in my lungs, sending my heart racing. My pulse thunders in my head until it’s all I hear. It pounds and aches in my skull, and the searing fire growing in me seems to echo each beat in my chest. I can’t see, can’t breathe.
I only feel. Her body at my side, pressing in now, the pain fading into the background.
The spice of her energy fills my nose, and her hand plays at my neck, thumb sliding over my jaw as she turns my face to hers. Her sweet breath hits my cheek, and the rhythm in my chest, the rhythm of my heart, merges with the rhythm of her lungs.
My muscles weaken, my skin blazes, and something inside my mind slips, something in my soul breaks loose, and everything in me wants her lips on mine.
I move to find her, turning my body to match hers. My hands catch her waist, and I slide my palm up her side, smelling blood, smelling her heat. I grip the back of her dress in my fist and pull her into my arms, my mouth tingling to feel her skin, her lips and mine nearly touching as my own energy wraps around us, hers tugging on it, taking it inside herself. And the only thing in my head is how desperately I want to kiss her, and kiss her, and—
I’m yanked back and smacked with a chilled hand. “Snap out of it!” Aelia says. No, she’s not cold, she’s just not as warm as Sage, she’s—
“Sage!” I croak out, opening my clouded eyes, trying to sit up, trying to find her. “Is she all right?” My wits click back into place and I shake my head, clearing it of the muddy energy.
“What were you thinking?”
I can’t see right. Sage is a blur beside me. “Answer me!”
“She’s fine, dumbass. You, however, look like crap.”