Out, damned spot.
Just as she had done in the Black Forest and then again at Avalon, Echo let the magic flow through her as it wished. She was a vessel. A conduit. The magic of the firebird was a river running over her, through her, from her. It wanted to be let out, and so she released it in a great, rushing wave.
She thought not of heat and fire and blinding light, but of warmth. Of purity. Of the gentle shining of the sun at dawn and starlight on the surface of the ocean. She thought of the songs sung by birds at the break of day and the crisp, clear scent of an autumn breeze. In her mind, she crafted an image that stood in absolute opposition to the stain she felt pulsating in Caius’s heart.
Out, damn you.
Echo took everything she felt and pushed it into Caius. A sharp stab of pain flared at the base of her skull, right where she always felt the physical cost of magic first. The agony crested to a skull-splitting roar, but she forced herself to maintain the stream of light and magic emanating from her palms and soaking into Caius’s skin.
He screamed, and she echoed it. They were both burning from within, but still, she did not stop. She could not—would not—stop until she had cleansed him of the ku?edra’s venomous influence.
She held on and burned with him until there was nothing left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The cabin’s modest living room was disappointingly empty. What Jasper would’ve given for a distraction, any distraction, so long as it got his mind off Dorian. As it stood, the only company Jasper had to keep from wallowing in self-pity were two ancient armchairs upholstered in a fabric that would have made a grandmother weep, a grandfather clock so loud and annoying he was ready to pull out its gears, and a rotund black cat that hissed with astonishing viciousness when Jasper dared approach it. He didn’t know where the cat had come from. It had just wandered in through the kitchen window like it owned the place. Jasper slumped onto the slightly less hideous sofa in the middle of the room and stared into the fire crackling cheerfully in the hearth. Dorian and Echo were still fawning over Caius, who seemed the worse for wear and would require the attention of a proper healer soon.
Jasper considered making a break for it. Not permanently, just long enough to have some distance, some perspective. Emotions were messy. That was why he usually preferred not to traffic with them, but this time his own messy emotions had refused to be denied. He felt powerless to stop the swell of jealousy he felt when Dorian had so tenderly reached for Caius, when that blue eye had softened and then filled with tears, tears Dorian had not been too proud to shed at the way Caius had unself-consciously reached to lay a hand on the back of Dorian’s head and muttered something in soft Drakhar to him that Jasper did not understand. The moment had belonged to them, filled with the years worth of history to which Jasper was not privy.
The sound of a door creaking open pulled Jasper from his thoughts. He angled his head to see who was coming, sure to keep his expression neutral. Dorian, however, did no such thing. He looked haggard, his shoulders sagging with something Jasper suspected was relief. It was a noticeable change from his demeanor of the past several weeks, which had been marked with tension so strong that Jasper had thought Dorian might snap at any moment.
For his part, Dorian did not even look at Jasper as he entered the room. He made straight for the ancient bar tucked in the corner, popped open a decanter of what looked like whiskey, and poured a generous amount into a glass. He downed the entire thing in one smooth motion. He grimaced at the burn of alcohol down his throat before pouring himself another glass. “Want one?” Dorian asked.
The offer was tempting, but the last thing Jasper wanted or needed was to have alcohol loosen his tongue and give it license to spill every embarrassing thought in his head. “Nah, I’m good.”
Dorian grunted. Drink in hand, he made his way to the sofa and slumped onto the cushion beside Jasper. He sipped at his drink, staring listlessly into the fire. With his free hand he rubbed at the scarred skin beneath his eye patch. Dorian may have been relieved to have found Caius, but that little gesture told Jasper something was still bothering him. Dorian had his tells just like anybody else, and Jasper had always excelled at reading tells.
The silence wasn’t awkward—not exactly—but Jasper still felt the need to fill it. “How is he?”
Dorian heaved a weary sigh. “He is…unwell.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Jasper said. He wondered if Dorian would look like this should something happen to him. It was not a generous thought, and not one Jasper was proud of, but he couldn’t help but wonder.
“I never liked Tanith,” Dorian said. “I can’t say I was surprised when she betrayed Caius for the throne or when she tried to have us tossed in the dungeon, but I never truly believed that she would do him harm. Not like that.” Another sigh, this one even wearier than the first. “Her own brother. Her own blood.”
And just like that Jasper’s horrible, petty thoughts seemed even pettier, even more horrible. He would have felt ashamed if shame were something he ever bothered to waste time on. Even so, a tiny inkling of it escaped his otherwise sturdy defenses.
“What I want to know is how Echo kept him from falling into a coma like everyone else who’s come into contact with the ku?edra’s poison or venom or whatever the hell it is,” said Jasper.
Talking about this was so much easier than dealing with the riot of emotions that assaulted Jasper when left to his own devices.
Dorian shook his head, looking just as perplexed by Caius’s condition as Jasper felt. “She figured out a way to counteract that effect, but it drained him even more, as if his body was fighting a battle on two fronts. None of the afflicted who responded to the elixir at Avalon appeared quite so…”
“Mostly dead?” Tact had never been Jasper’s strong suit.
Dorian winced, and Jasper immediately felt apologetic. Emotions were sloppy, Jasper reminded himself, and they made you do stupid things and say even stupider ones.
“Bluntly stated,” said Dorian, “but not incorrect.” He ran a hand through his silver hair, tousling it even more than it already was. Unkempt was a good look on him. “He’ll need the attentions of a true healer soon. We’ve done all we can, but I’m afraid it’s not enough.”
Jasper watched Dorian in silence for a few moments. “And you? How are you holding up?” He tried to keep his tone light, and failed spectacularly.
“I’m fine,” Dorian said into his drink, voice muffled by the glass.