Page 124 of Sonnets and Serpents
She heard a shout of pain and prayed it was Kerem’s.
The first time Silas almost lost his magic, the process had been subtle and slow. Perhaps that was Ceyda’s inexperience with the Artifact, or perhaps it was a reflection of her personality. Maybe she was reluctant to kill even while longing to avenge her father.
When Kerem grabbed him by the throat, it was clear he intended to be efficient. Rather than feeling the threads of his magic quietly cut, Silas felt it ripped away all at once, like a sheet of parchment torn in two. Thanks to Gill’s arrival, he was able to pull free, but the damage was done.
Unable to stand, Silas collapsed. His head swam, and while he was vaguely aware of Gill fighting, of Eliza trapped, he couldn’t seem to grasp the details. It was as if everything had happened a long time ago, and he was trying to look back while something dragged him away.
I’m dying, he realized with an academic detachment. An experience he’d never be able to write about, never be able to share the results from. Useless.
He tried to fight the sensation, but it was like fighting anenemy without a form. There was nothing to kick, nothing to bite.
Only an inevitability slowly devouring.
By the time the rats chewed Eliza free, she’d lost sight of Gill and Kerem as their fight moved down the tunnel. But she’d seen a glimpse of Silas. A glimpse that chilled her more than any ice.
Henry had wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm. Her skin was reddened where it had been in contact with the ice, but the numbness had receded, replaced by a painful prickle in every limb.
As soon as she could finally pull her last foot free, she wriggled away from Henry, half stumbling and half crawling to where Silas had collapsed. She pulled his head into her lap, running her frozen fingers over his cheeks.
He gave no response to her cold touch. His eyes were closed, and for a terrifying moment, she thought he wasn’t breathing, before she saw the shallowest dip of his chest.
“Is he—” Henry started.
“He’s alive,” Eliza said sharply, determined to keep him that way through sheer willpower.
A shadow moved nearby, and she curled protectively over Silas before realizing it was Tulip. The python moved in tight shapes, flicking her tail. She coiled her head and neck atop Silas’s chest, tongue darting in and out rapidly, beady eyes fixed on Eliza as if demanding to know how she’d allowed this to happen.
Earlier, Tulip’s contact had rejuvenated Silas, yet he didn’t stir. Aside from the wound on his leg, he wasn’t bleeding. Kerem had done something else to him. The problem was magical.
“We have to stop Kerem,” said Eliza.
Henry nodded. “You stay here. I’ll help Gill.”
“No,” she said fiercely. “I’llhelp Gill. You get in close enough to transform Kerem.”
She remembered her brief moments as a snake—the disorientation, the lack of control. As long as Kerem held the Artifact, he was powerful, but he wasn’t invincible.
Silently, she thanked Silas for all his lectures about magic. They resonated with her now, reaffirming her plan.
“He’s already an Affiliate,” Henry protested.
“But he’s notyour link. He could turn you into a snake and you’d be under his command, but you can do the same to him as a rat. You just have to bite him.”
She very much wanted to see Kerem as a helpless, cornered rat. Then she could use the Artifact to fix whatever he’d done to Silas.
With reluctance, she shimmied away from Silas, resting his head on the ground. Leaving him to Tulip’s care, she ran in the direction Gill and Kerem had disappeared, her legs needling painfully with each step.
“Eliza, wait!”
But she couldn’t afford to. Every second mattered.
In the next cavern over, Gill and Kerem circled each other, dimly lit, neither one able to get the upper hand. Each time Kerem attempted Fluid Casting, Gill canceled it, and vice versa. Gill had the longer reach of a sword, but Kerem kept transforming into different animals to dodge the strikes, and if Gill got too close, he risked being turned into an animal himself. Then it would all be over.
Eliza was suddenly grateful she’d drained all the Stone Casting from the Artifact; otherwise Kerem could have brought down the cavern in a quake or trapped Gill in the floor as he’d done to Silas.
Instead of representing deadly potential, the rock surrounding her gave her courage, carved as it was with familiar words, the poetry grounding in a new, literal way. She strode across declarations of love and faith, and her heart beat to their rhythm. Without magic or dagger or defense, she would managesomething—because even if Silas could not be hers, she would still save him. That was the very essence of love.
Love, my crown.
