A plume of shadow appeared behind him, and Zaiana faltered back a step. A firm body stopped her. Kyleer.
Dakodas emerged from her darkness, crouching by Mordecai with the first glimpse of concern Zaiana had seen her display. Then her black eyes snapped viscously to Zaiana.
“You are all going to pay for this,” she hissed.
They braced, but Dakodas didn’t attack. Instead she took Mordecai away through her Shadowporting, leaving them in a chilling, foreboding silence.
Zaiana spun back to Amaya, who wheezed in Tynan’s arms.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Zaiana snapped, but her eyes bore only concern and fear, cupping Amaya’s cheek. “We need a healer!” she yelled to Kyleer as the only person close who could help.
He nodded, taking off in search of one.
Yet Zaiana knew…listening to the fractured cadence in Amaya’s chest…she knew they were counting down too fast.
“Heartbeats are such a precious thing, aren’t they?” Amaya said. She kept her eyes on the stars that broke through the swaying trees.
“They really are,” Zaiana said, tucking her hair from her face.
She kept her voice steady despite the lump growing in her throat and the scream of grief already bottling in her chest.
“Thank you…thank you for giving me mine.”
Zaiana’s nose stung, and tears flooded her eyes. She breathed consciously, keeping her smile and bravery for Amaya. “You always had it,” Zaiana said. “Your heart showed me the goodness in our kind.”
Amaya smiled, but her face twitched with pain. “M-make it sto-storm, Zaiana.”
Her first tear spilled as Amaya’s face relaxed and the light in her eyes faded. “Always,” Zaiana whispered. She leaned in, placing a kiss on Amaya’s forehead. “In darkness and in light, you have always triumphed, Amaya Silverfair.”
When Zaiana pulled back, she was gone. Zaiana had never appreciated enough how beautiful her eyes were until right now, when she had to close them forever.
It wasn’t fair. War never was, but this…losing Amaya was so cruel and cold that despite all the vicious hands this world had dealt her, she could hardly comprehend this fate. Zaiana’s head tipped back, watching the stars glimmer while tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She held Amaya’s body, but as she searched the constellations she imagined her gentle soul as one of them, at peace in that beautiful palace, and watching over them still.
Tynan mourned. She’d never heard him cry before and it disturbed her greatly.
For his pain, for the loss of another person too good for this world, Zaiana’s grief hardened. Justice was in her hands; vengeance beat hard in her chest.
Zaiana stood. Her eyes caught on the red fletching of the arrow that had struck Mordecai with a pang in her chest.
Mordecai Vesaria would die, and there was a certain twisted poetry that he’d created the weapon that would carve out his immortal heart.
She’d shed her Silverfair name when she’d collapsed the mountain that raised her, and she would embrace her new name as Zaiana Vesaria to kill the dark fae king.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Tarly
Tarly wasn’t much help in combat with one arm in a sling, but he could direct the wolves and offer another distraction when they faced Marvellas.
If they weren’t too late.
The five of them and the wolves rushed through the castle halls, having to take a more inconspicuous route to avoid the partygoers with the ball still ongoing. Nik had ordered the city to be locked down, and most of their army force had begun to take position around Farrowhold, but they wanted to delay panic spreading through the people for as long as possible.
The passage Nik led them through beneath the library had been mined of Magestone but still hummed with a dark aura that pulsed in his head. Then they held their breath, rounding into the room of mirrors.
They spilled into the small space, and they were alone. Yet the Blood Box lay right there in the middle of the room for the taking. Every hair on Tarly’s body pricked, somehow gatheringa worse sense of dread than if they’d run right into Marvellas instead.
“Do you think she hasn’t found this place yet?” Tauria asked.