Page 47 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

Lessia opened her mouth to tell him to shut his mouth.

Tell him she couldn’t speak of it.

Not now.

Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

But instead of the words she’d intended, a gasp caught in her throat.

Something warm and sticky flooded her veins.

Not like the oily sensation of Merrick’s magic.

No.

It was more like old honey that clogged every pore, every nerve, every blood vessel, muting any ounce of magic inside her.

Then, white-hot pain tore through her skull.

Lessia dropped the vial and dagger, pressing her hands to her face as a cry broke through the air.

It sounded as if from far away, and she wasn’t certain whether it was actually her own when it bounced within her mind.

It got worse.

Blinding pangs of agony shot out from her head into her arms, her legs, her gut, her back, until she wasn’t sure whether the world around her still existed.

She tried to focus on the air she could feel flowing into her lungs.

On the salt she could taste on her tongue.

On the presence beside her—a silhouette in the darkness that was this painful reality.

She drew another breath.

Focus,she screamed at herself—out loud or in her head, she didn’t know—as her eyes tracked the shadow’s movements.

Something pulled her toward it.

Told her it was there to help.

Her eyes trailed the flickers of silver sparking around the figure.

It looked like one of the angels she’d seen in her father’s books growing up.

As if one of them had left the pages and now was here with her in the pit of agony.

Another breath made its way into her body.

The pain didn’t ease, but with every breath flowing into her lungs, she began to feel the world again.

The sand under her feet.

The wind brushing her skin.

Merrick’s voice softly calling her name.

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