I turn to try and see what they’re looking at and spot threads of black smoke leaking from my fingertips. What the hell?
“That’s not supposed to happen,” Ben says. “She’s a fire demi.”
“Get this thing off me,” I growl.
They both jerk back like the sound of my voice physically hit them.
“Her eyes,” Astrid whispers. “They’re gold.”
Ben just shakes his head, seemingly terrified by something in my gaze. “We should hurry and bleed her.”
Astrid steps back in front of me, pressing the blade to my throat again.
I stare at her stupid flawless face and snarl, “I’m going to ki—”
She swipes the blade. Pressure fills my head, my eyes widening, my throat closing.
My heartbeat thunders. I can’t hear Faelan’s labored breathing anymore. All I hear is my hammering pulse and a raven crying in the distance. Everything else is going dim. I barely feel the cut, the loss of blood. Pain doesn’t exist.
My mind goes still, and a buzz starts in my hands. The stirring behind my eyes prickles again, more determined. The blood running over my shoulder, sliding down my chest, it doesn’t feel right. It isn’t warm.
It’s cold.
Astrid is standing several feet away now. She’s watching me with terror on her face.
“Take . . . it . . . off,” I choke out, straining at my bonds.
“How is this happening?” Ben asks, his voice quivering.
“She’s manifesting like a Morrígan,” Astrid says. “But her eyes . . .”
“She’s an abomination.” Ben steps closer, pulling out a large dagger. “We need to get her head off.”
“Don’t touch her!” Astrid rushes forward, reaching out to stop him.
But it’s too late. He grips my hair, tipping my head a little, readying the blade to cut.
And the black smoke seeping from my hands slides in his direction, curling around his neck in quick threads.
He stiffens, the knife falling from his fist. His mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes widening as ice crawls across his gaping face, spreading from where the smoke touches, the crystals growing, clouding his wide eyes. The buzzing in my hands radiates into my arms, my chest, shaking my bones as red mist drifts from Ben’s mouth into the air, on a hiss of breath.
The body crumples in on itself, wilting like a dying flower, collapsing to the forest floor with a crackle of frozen flesh. I stare down at his broken body, feeling nothing.
The torque that he locked around my neck strains, then snaps with a loud clink.
Instantly the chill in my blood sinks away, the strange dark threads of energy dissipating.
My skin warms, then heats, the torn flesh on my neck shifting and tightening. Healing. The familiar pulse of my power fills my chest, then spills out, coating my skin. Fire flickers at my fingertips. The yellow and orange flames move over my torso, down my arms, snapping at the air with a steady hiss, turning the vines holding me to ash. As I step free, the fire slinks over the ground to Ben, and crawls up his legs, the dead body of the shade becoming a blaze.
Astrid is shaking her head in disbelief, backing away.
I barely believe it myself.
Something moves in the shadows beside her. A raven.
“Danu, save us,” Astrid whispers. And then she turns in a rush, grabbing her bow and running toward the trees. Running right into Kieran. His shoulders still seep black smoke from his transformation.
He grabs her by the neck before she can get past him. “Leaving so soon?”
“She’s an abomination!” Astrid gasps. “She broke the torque, manifested—there was smoke, black veins. She has Princess Lily’s eyes!”
“I know,” he says, like she’s dense. And then he drags her back to stand in front of me, gripping her neck.
I struggle to focus myself, trying to calm my nerves, trying to pull the fire back. It settles and sinks into my skin again, but the heat keeps swirling with my anger. “Where have you been?” I demand. “If you hadn’t noticed, we could’ve used help.”
“I’ve been watching,” he says. He admires me for a second, like he’s enjoying all of this. “I’ve been in the trees, my love, waiting for my moment. You’re doing a brilliant job, by the way.” He turns back to Astrid and says, “Now, explain to the princess why you’re attempting to destroy her.”
As soon as he lets go, she crumples to her knees. “I wouldn’t hurt her! Please, mistress,” she says, suddenly contrite. “Have mercy. I’m a simple servant, an underling of no consequence.”
I ignore her pleading and hurry to Faelan’s side. I take in the hole in his chest, skin streaked with blood, his hair matted with it, the gaping wound on his neck . . . His eyes are closed, his lips pressed together, as if he’s holding in a scream.
“Oh, God, please no,” I whisper, trying to untie the rope binding his wrists. “You’re okay, Faelan, you’ll be okay now.” But the knot won’t come undone. “Kieran, get the torque unlocked!” I yell. “Hurry!”
He squats on the other side of Faelan, then swipes some blood onto the rim of the torque. It falls away, and Kieran tosses it aside, pulls out his knife, and cuts the bonds. He frowns, watching me warily as I cup Faelan’s cheek, touch his forehead.
“Can you hear me, Faelan?” I ask. “Come on, wake up. I’m right here. Please.” I study his chest, his neck, but nothing happens. I turn to Kieran. “Why isn’t he waking up?”
Kieran just looks at me.
“What do we do?” I shake Faelan’s arm. Why is he so cold?
“He’s not strong enough,” Kieran says, his voice flat.
“What? No. Of course he is.” I grip his shoulder. He’s fine. He has to be. “Faelan, come back. Wake up!”
“He’s not going to wake up, Sage,” Kieran says.
“Shut up!” I scream, my voice cracking with pain. And then I go back to shaking Faelan’s arm. He’ll wake up. He has to wake up. He’s a demigod, like me. Astrid was lying when she said he could die, she was trying to scare me. Now Kieran’s just being evil. This is his fault, anyway—if he’d helped instead of watching . . .
No, it’s my fault. I should’ve just used my power, but I hesitated.
I hesitated. And now . . .
No. “Come on, Faelan,” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder.
“You care for him deeply,” Kieran says, his voice tight.
I don’t say anything. I can’t believe this is real.
He seems to be considering something. And then he shifts, slipping his knife into his boot. “Move away,” he says, his tone stiff.
But I can’t. I can’t move. “Please wake up, Faelan.”
“Sage,” Kieran says. “You must move if I’m to draw his spirit back.”
I sit up, staring at him, wondering if I heard him right. His features blur, becoming the familiar face of my king, the green of our surroundings fading to white. Tears streak my cheeks, and I smell ice. But the air around me is warm. It’s a dream filtering through. “What are you saying?”