Page 8 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Because these wounds were caused by magic. Old God magic.”

“There are no more Old Gods. There haven’t been for an eternity.”

“There are two left. The Oracle and her brother, Corvus. His magic is corruption, and Anaria took a direct hit of his magic, a lash across her shins, a little more than five hours ago. We brought her here as fast as we could. Torin insisted you could save her.”

Ice grew in my veins as he knelt there with that worthless, frantic look on his face. “Torin had better not have been lying, because we turned around to come here. To wait for you. You are Anaria’s only hope now.”

I spiked the end of my sword into the parquet beside the kneeling healer, sending splinters of wood scattering across the floor. I leaned close enough to smell the mage. He needed a fucking bath.

“If she dies, so do you. So I suggest you double your efforts.”

“Corruption?” Bexley ran his hand down his sweaty face, but his eyes sparked with understanding. “That I can work with. Let us see what we are dealing with.”

I was so relieved to see healing magic pour from his hands and over Anaria I used my sword to hold myself up. My relief lasted until her body bowed up off the cushions, her mouth open in a silent scream as a faint, greenish haze spun up around her and the healer.

“Stop hurting her. Fucking stop.”

“The…corrupting magic remains inside her, hanging on like an infection that doesn’t want to leave. Come. You must hold the girl down so she doesn’t injure herself.”

Corvus’s power was rank, stinking like the bowels of the Pit. I let go of the sword, then braced my hands on Anaria’s thrashing body, holding her in place while the healer’s magic crawled over her like lightning bolts.

“Make it leave.” I couldn’t stand how her body writhed beneath my palms. Couldn’t stand the little keening cries that came from between her clamped lips. “Get this shite out of her, fucking now.”

“I am trying to do exactly that, but the infection’s gone too deep, like it’s sprung roots that refuse to let go,” Bexley muttered, pouring wave after wave of magic over her until the room was choked with it.

“His magic…is too powerful for me,” Bexley finally admitted. “It corrupts everything it touches, moving up from her legs through the rest of her body. Once the poison reaches her heart…” He shook his head. “A few more minutes, perhaps.” He searched my face then swallowed.

“You should say goodbye. While she can still hear you.”

My heart stopped, roaring silence wiping away everything except that we were out of time. Then rage and helplessness forged my instincts into a single, impossible idea.

I gripped Anaria’s face, her eyes squeezed shut, lips moving as if she was talking to herself. “Anaria. Listen to me, love. We’ve found a healer. But Corvus’s magic won’t let go. Can you…”

Fuck, how had she healed Raziel?

“Can you find Corvus’s magic inside of you? Can you push him out?” I met the healer’s eyes and he nodded faintly. “Once his magic is gone, he can heal you. But right now he can’t, not so long as that foulness is still in you.”

“Tell her to isolate anything that feels…dirty, like an infection or decay.” Simon’s face tightened. “Such ancient foulness would feel creeping or cold. Once she locates the foreign power, I’ll feed my healing magic into her and together, we will drive the infection out like rats from a sinking ship.”

She stopped writhing, but her lids fluttered, her head tilting toward the mage.

Somewhere beyond the pain, Anaria was listening.

“That’s it. Search through yourself, look for anything dark, anything that feels wrong. Use your magic to…” Again, I looked up at Bexley.

“Start at her waist and work downward. She should push her magic toward her feet, away from her heart. Anything her power recognizes as a threat.”

I repeated Bexley’s instructions over and over again, gripping Anaria’s hands in mine as he covered her in a blanket of golden, glowing power that sank into her skin. “She’s not…she’s not using her magic,” Bexley muttered. “And I can’t isolate this dark power myself.”

Simon returned, his eyes widening as he scanned the scene, a whispered, “Fuck me,” slipping between his lips before he took up position behind the settee. “Tell me what I can do,” he offered.

“To start,” Bexley hissed, “you can stay the fuck out of the way.”

I threaded my fingers between hers. “Anaria, if you’re listening, you have to try. Use your magic, love.”

“I can’t, Tav. You know I can’t.” I bowed beneath the force of my emotions when Anaria uttered her first words in hours and knew exactly what she was afraid of.

But turning into a monster was the least of my worries.

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