Page 146 of The Prince's Curse

At that, Alistair nodded and ran past them. Guilt hung heavy on his shoulders. Shoshanna had warned him how hard this would be.

I won’t do you any good if I have an aneurysm, she’d snapped.

They could have waited another day, but would Scarlett have made it? And if Scarlett had died before Armina’s lackeys attacked, they might have lost everything. But what if…

The decision was made now.

Whether he wanted to be or not, he was the court’s Elder. Everything under the roof was his responsibility. Steeling himself, he headed upstairs and found a hazy glow spilling out from the guest room as Alistair’s quiet voice rumbled.

Lingering in the hall, he heard the other man saying, Just get some rest. I love you so much, and I’ll be here when you’re ready to wake.

Julian tapped lightly on the door and stepped inside. Shoshanna lay in the small bed with a sheet tugged up to her shoulders. Her mate knelt on the floor beside her, holding her hand. “How is she?” Julian asked quietly.

“I thought she might wake for me,” Alistair said. “But it’s like she’s not in there.”

“If you’d prefer, you have my blessing to take her somewhere else. If you think that would be safer,” Julian said, his heart aching.

Alistair turned slowly. An ugly gash twisted across his cheek, tugging at one eye. His lip curled in a sneer. “I have your blessing, do I?” His lips widened into a madman’s smile. “Now that she has done her work for you, you have no further use for her.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” Julian said.

Alistair chuckled. “And where would we go that Armina will not follow us? Our home is lost, and this place, too. That bitch will not let us have a moment of rest.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re suffering, and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure she returns to us safely,” Julian said.

“You should be sorry,” Alistair said sharply. “I suppose I should tell you that I’m happy for you, but your Scarlett walks around amidst the destruction while Shoshanna may never wake.”

“Alistair, that isn’t?—”

“It isn’t fair, is it?” Alistair said. “Call me flawed and vain. She knew she wasn’t quite ready and wanted to do it anyway because she cares. And I know her too well; this was about not losing. She cares for Scarlett, but she also can’t stand to lose, can’t stand to think that she might not be strong enough to win. If I lose her…”

His heart sank as he knelt next to Alistair and saw the tears gleaming against the dried blood on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” Julian said again. “I have asked more of all of you than anyone should.”

Alistair chuckled, stroking his mate’s limp hand. Her heart still beat steadily, though her scent was strange, muted somehow. “She would scold me for being difficult, especially given how unpleasant I was for so long. And I do very much want you to have your happiness, Julian. But I cannot muster the naive hope that she has.” His head tilted slightly, and his bloodshot eyes met Julian’s. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m taking the fight to her,” Julian said. “And it will be over one way or another.”

Chapter 34

The hallway seemed to stretch forever, looming over Scarlett. She could smell the familiar scent of Night Weaver magic, though it felt like a memory more than a present reality. Heart thumping, she trudged down the long hallway to Shoshanna’s room. Perhaps she would walk in and find the woman sitting up in bed, cheerful as ever with a happy cat in her lap.

She wrapped her hands around the mug of pungent tea, then gritted her teeth and closed the distance to the door. She lightly tapped on the door. A low, gravelly voice said, “Come in.”

Much like Julian’s, the small bedroom was a scant step up from a dormitory, with a pretty patterned rug over tile floor and cinderblock walls painted a light gray beneath a few framed photographs. It was a far cry from the lovingly decorated bedrooms in the house at Midnight Springs, each of which echoed with Shoshanna’s attention.

The rug had been pulled back, allowing Misha to etch protective spells onto the floor around Shoshanna’s bed. Glowing golden lines pulsed faintly against the flecked tile. The witch slept with a knitted blanket tossed over the quilt, while Alistair sat at the foot of the bed with haunted, shadowed eyes.

It felt like an entire lifetime had passed since she woke from her bizarre dreams into Julian’s arms, just in time to hear Misha say, “We’re under attack.” For the next half hour, still drugged nearly to unconsciousness, she’d done her best to keep watch over Shoshanna.

And when Jordan Cole dropped to the ground and unsheathed a wickedly sharp knife, she launched into action. She’d felt alive, sparkling almost, as if the blood in her veins was carbonated and tickling through her veins. Too much energy, too much power.

As she tussled with Jordan, she could see the magic on him, like carved scars on his skin. Those glowing lines danced in time with his brutal, fast movements. With Alice’s voice still echoing in her head about threads that were out of place, she’d grabbed his shoulders and shouted, “Snap out of it! Stop it!”

And his eyes lit up. Heat surged through them both, and she flew back feeling like she’d touched an electric fence.

Even now, hours later, she was still staring at her hands. Was that Alice’s gift? One little lifeline? The first person she’d ask was currently comatose, with the second taking a much-needed nap during the daylight.

Julian had given the order to the Nightwatch to get a few hours of sleep and meet him at noon to figure out their next steps. But he’d stayed up for another few hours to confirm who was missing, his face stricken with grief. He’d been tracking Paris and Danielle’s phones, which had turned off shortly after nine in the morning.

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