Page 142 of The Rogue's Curse

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying that he hadn’t just failed the test.

Warm hands slapped his cheeks, and he flailed awake to see Shoshanna, hair disheveled. “I’m losing Misha,” she said. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”

His heart plunged through the floor, but he remembered Dominic’s tale, how he had been so certain of reality. He grabbed Shoshanna’s hands, turned them over and over. “Are you real?”

She yanked away from him. “Paris, I don’t have time for this. Of course I’m real,” she said. She pointed to the corner of the room, where Safira leaned against the wall with one hand pressed to her bloodied side. Her glorious red hair was tangled and bloodied, and streaks of ash lined the walls. “We’ve been under attack the entire time I’ve been working. It’s too much. Between you and Misha, the magic is far too strong.”

“So you can’t do it?”

“The only way I can keep him alive is to break your bond,” she said.“I learned how when I broke Sasha’s curse, remember?”

“So we won’t be soulmates?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“Will he remember me?”

“He will, but he won’t be connected to you anymore,” she said. She took his hand and held it tight. “But it…it’s going to break your mind, Paris. It’s him or you. Once I sever the bond, all that energy goes somewhere. It goes into him or into you.”

“So I’ll go insane,” he said numbly.

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t anticipating how powerful he is, and how deep your curse has gone. Your curse must be holding you tighter for some reason.”

“Because of everything I’ve done,” he mused.

“That must be it. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, and maybe it’s not willing to let you go,” she said.

“Can I tell him goodbye?”

She shook her head rapidly. “The only reason he’s not blowing this whole thing up right now is because I’ve got him so far under.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do I do?”

“I… Tell him that the world needs good people like him. And tell Allie that…” He shook his head. Alistair didn’t need any more burdens. “Tell him I didn’t suffer. Love him enough for both of us.” He looked up at Safira, who stood there in the corner of the room still. “Put me out of my misery, will you?”

“I will,” she said.

“Ask Allie to play a song for me when it’s over,” he said. Then he grabbed Shoshanna’s hand. “Do it. Let me have it, and make sure Misha comes out of this intact.”

Shoshanna nodded grimly and said, “I wish it could be different. I’ll try to make it painless, but no guarantees.” She put her hand to his brow, and murmured, “Goodbye, Paris.”

30

Soft voices roused Misha from his sleep. Two women spoke nearby. He opened his dry eyes and saw Safira’s bright red eyes mere inches away. She beamed and said, “Oh, good morning, sunshine. Dani, go find Shoshanna!”

His head was still fuzzy as he sat up, finding himself lying atop the blankets in one of the small infirmary rooms. He frowned at his feet, still clad in his leather shoes. “How long…” His tongue felt rooted to the roof of his mouth. “How long has it been?”

“About two hours,” Safira said. “Well, two hours since she finished. About six from the moment she started working.”

He surged out of bed, staggered, and righted himself by the time he caught the door frame. Before he could ask, Safira said, “He’s next door, but he’s not awake yet.” She took his hand and said, “At least walk with me. We hit you with so many drugs I’m surprised you woke up before July.”

Holding Safira’s arm, he trudged into the next room, which was filled with a startling scent. It was Paris, but pure and clean—the scent he had noticed when they first met, before he’d picked up on that decaying scent of his curse, one that had gotten worse as they grew closer. The smell filled his entire being, making his blood sing out in desperation. He hurried to the bed, where Paris lay on his back, eyes closed.Despite all the time they’d spent together, he’d never seen him this way, still and quiet.

Misha dared to stroke his cheek. There was no response, and he fought the urge to shake him awake. Instead, he leaned down to kiss his brow, murmuring, “Paris? Can you hear me?” There was nothing, not even the faintest flutter of his lashes to indicate he lived. His skin was warm to the touch. Instinctively, Misha put a hand on his brow and one on his chest, looking for the telltale signs of his curse. A sharp pain rolled through his head, and the dizziness swept over him again.

He caught himself, then looked back at Safira. “Has he been awake at all?”

She shook her head. “Shoshanna said that it was difficult, but she thought she got it,” she said.

“She thought? That doesn’t sound reassuring,” he said. “Where is—”

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