Page 69 of Soul of Thorns
“If she gives up and allows herself to die, her soul would die first. And it’d be all too easy for my mate to keep her body alive just long enough for his magic to revive her. There are two ways we can achieve our goals. One is convincing Caelynn to do our bidding. That is where you come in, child. She is in love with you. Pathetic as you may be. She has proved time and time again that she will give anything for you. But that is only my backup plan. I have an easier scheme in mind.”
The Night Terror slithers around me, her voice echoing. She still shows me the vision of Caelynn lying in the mud with the wraith wafting over her.
“We will break her,” the Night Terror whispers in my ear. “And indeed, we are so very close already.”
No.
“We will dismantle her soul piece by piece until she gives up entirely. Her soul is so very dim already. When it dies, and it will, she will lose the ability to control his magic. He will regain its control, and then he would have everything he’d ever need.”
My blood runs cold. “Because his magic is inside of her.”Shit.
I see it now. Why they backed off. Why the wraiths spied but never confronted. Why even the manticore looked us in the eye but then turned around, leaving us with no more than a few disturbing words.
They were waiting for Caelynn to give up. To let herself die.
That’s what’s been happening to her. That’s why she’s been so exhausted, her magic so volatile. I was right—I was losing her. And the wolf was right—the Night Bringer’s magic is the key to their success. They’re suffocating her from the inside out.
“Yes,” she whispers. “He can only use it if she destroys herself first. She is so very close to that fate. Now, we will simply enjoy the show...”
“No,” I whisper. My despair explodes from my chest, rushing from my dark prison, seeking my mate.Find her. Keep her safe.I beg, knowing it’s more than futile.
Rage swells in my chest, burning so hot I can hardly contain it. White-hot flame burst forth from my chest, completely outside of my control, and my tree prison parts, writhing in pain. Its hiss echoes through my mind, but I stumble forward.
A small whisper of white light flashes from my chest, shooting away into the darkness.
***
MY BOOTS SINK INTOthe muck as I run, feet pumping over the ashen ground, slick with the blood of long-dead, unknown fae.
She’s only feet ahead, blond hair spread wide, face pale as snow. I fall to my knees beside her and grip her shoulders tightly.
“Ow,” she mumbles, face crumpled in pain. “Rev?”
A desperate cry of relief escapes me, and without thinking, I crash my lips onto hers, just needing to feel her, be near her.
My magic follows, hurtling through her, frantic to find the cause of her ailment. To help her. Fix her. Heal her.
Her back arches and she groans against my lips, a much more pleasant sound than the last.
“Rev,” she says again.
I pull back, lips and magic alike, and peer into her pitch-black eyes.
“What happened?” I ask.
“What happened to you? He said you left... you...”
“I... the manticore took me. I was trapped.”
Her face crumbles. Agony covers every feature.
“I’m okay now,” I whisper. “I’m here.” My fingers drift over her cheek.
The wraith hisses. “You were trapped by her? Then how are you here now?”
I narrow my eyes at the wraith.
“She wouldn’t let you go once in her grasp.” He turns and begins to pace back and forth, barely hovering over the ground. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters.
