Page 44 of Merciless Is My Crown

Zor mopped blood from his neck, the gaping wound already closing. I spooled my magic back in, keeping a shimmering wall in place around us, eyes peeled for another attack. But my magic was diminishing by the minute.

“There’s a hole, big enough I can see inside.” Torin leaned between the splintered pillars. “But I’m the only one small enough to fit through.”

“There is no fucking way you’re going in there first,” Simon told her shortly, scanning her face then the looming, silent darkness within. “Raziel, can you break the other pillar? If you could widen the opening, I’ll go down there instead.”

“This place is siphoning off my magic faster than it can replenish,” I explained. “We have to get your friend out of there and off this fucking island.”

“I feel the drain, too,” Torin admitted. “I can fit. Let me go down there.”

“But you can’t get Zeph out, Tor,” Simon argued. “We’ve got to expand that opening. And I’m going in with you; that’s not up for discussion.”

Zor and I used our boots to clear off the ledge, the dull echoes of tumbling stone reverberating around the crater like the beating of a thousand wings. When the crashing stopped, I caught the sound I knew I’d hear from the moment that first creature attacked.

The skittering of a thousand feet across rock, coming at us from all directions.

“Anytime now, Raz. Preferably before they get here.” Zor set his own magic free, shadows writhing in the misty darkness, tangling with mine, sending a zap of renewed power through me as soon as they touched.

Zor shot me a crooked smile. “Figured I’d give you a boost, seeing as you’re the one doing all the work.”

“Stay back and cover your eyes,” I warned, flexing my hands before I laid them against the freezing surface again, bracing myself for the impact. The magic’s effect was every bit as hideous as before, that creeping chill that sank into my very being contaminating me with its foulness.

Death. Sure, swift, consuming death.

The true taste of the Oracle’s magic.

A warning of what would happen to this world if we did not stop her.

The second the others found shelter behind the other pillars, I shoved our combined magic into the stone, forcing power through the dense black glass like lightning crackling through a thundercloud. Then I vanished when the obsidian spike ruptured with a deafening crack.

When I reformed on the ledge, the pillar was cleaved into pieces, leaving a big enough hole for us all to lean in and peer down into the darkness. Then, as one, we took a healthy step back when a deep, thunderous growl echoed out from the pit.

18

ANARIA

Ileft a despondent Lucius alone in the kitchen of Nightcairn with half a bottle of wine and headed upstairs, carrying the hurt from every cruel, venomous word Tavion uttered these past days like a weight around my heart.

I understood his frustration. His desolation and fear. But understanding didn’t make his insults sting any less.

Didn’t make the coldness in his eyes turn to warmth or his anger stop cutting like a knife.

A few days ago, we’d been closer than I thought two people could be, and now…We were further apart than we’d ever been, even after Julian’s death.

I couldn’t lose Tavion. Not like this.

Not to some creeping sickness that would steal him away from me, bit by bit.

He was hurt and angry and scared, a combination that created a male too proud to ask for help and too arrogant to accept what was offered. But somewhere, in this gods-awful world, there was a cure. I had to believe that.

Lucius hadn’t found one, but…if one existed, I would.

I hoped coming to Nightcairn would let me put some ghosts to rest, but instead…I ran my fingers over an expensive inlaid table, carving a wavering line through the thick dust.

Instead, my ghosts followed me around from place to place, while I picked up new ones along the way.

Pretty soon we’d be a ghost brigade—no, a ghost army—and things would be out of hand.

Tristan, at least, was sleeping. Two healers of Lucius’s choosing were on their way. Hopefully he could find his way back from…whatever had snapped during that vision. In truth, I still didn’t know what to make of it.

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