Page 96 of Glass Hearts
Two unmistakable shapes appear beside us.
“You bitch,” Bernice hisses through the fog. “I knew you’d be a constant problem.”
Then Clarsef steps forward, arms moving with practiced precision, a glowing portal rippling open behind him. I don’t think—I just grab Arabella’s arm as the world around us tears away and vanishes.
Arabella
The world lurches sideways as we land, and my stomach twists violently. I hit the ground hard, vision swimming, breath knocked from my chest. A hand, large and familiar, gripped me just before we were pulled through.Grayer.
But there’s no time to find him.
Cold metal kisses my throat. Bernice.
I freeze, my hands instinctively searching for my dagger. Somewhere between the smoke and the portal, I lost everything.Shit.
Barely above a whisper, I murmur, “The dragon gardens.” The words meant for the tiny receiver the mercenaries gave us, tucked beneath my collar.
Bri, on her first tour of the castle, brought me to this spot. She spoke of sordid tales of the garden, as to why the garden remains desolate to this day. The air here hums. Charged, sacred and heavy. Cracked stone pillars loom around us, half-swallowed by wild vines and time. Roots twist through shattered pathways, cloaking centuries of violence in deep green. The ground beneath my hands feels thick with memory—spells long spent, blood long dried.
“I should’ve ended you ages ago,” Bernice snarls, eyes wild. “But no, you had to worm your way into their hearts.”
Her dagger flashes.
I slam my boot into her knee before she can strike. She crashes to the ground with a hiss.
“You bitch!” she shrieks, scrambling up, fury blazing as she lunges again.
I pivot, barely dodging her blade. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”
From the corner of my eye, I see the glint of Goldie, my dagger. I roll down, grabbing it as Bernice lunges toward me as I rise from the ground.
Blade meets blade. We grapple. Her strikes are wild, while mine are focused. The dagger whistles past my cheek, too close.
A flash of movement pulls at the edge of my vision; Grayer. Flames are pouring from his hands, as Clarsef’s writhes in agony. The heat kisses me, brisk, and disperses as the scent of seared flesh curls into my nose, sharp and choking.
It distracts me for half a second too long.
Bernice lunges again, sloppy but fast.
Before I can react, Grayer’s arm slams into me, shoving me aside.
The blade sinks into him instead. Right in the chest.
“Grayer!” I cry out, as he grunts and goes down with Bernice on top of him.
I scramble to his side as Bernice rises, her laughter echoing maniacally through the air.
“Grayer, no, please no. Why did you do that, you big brute?!” I grab his cheek as I lay my other hand on his wound. The dagger still protrudes as blood pools.
“Because,” he says in a wheezy whisper, “you love me, and I love you.” His eyes drift closed.
“No, no, no,” I beg as tears fall down my eyes. His body hardens, like stone.
Bernice continues to cackle.
“That was supposed to be for you, you wretch.”
Anger fills my heart. All my life, I had put up with her relentless abuse. Abuse I started to believe. Believing that I wasnot worthy of love, or that nobody could love me. But as I look at my dark prince, whose chest has stopped moving, my heart turns black.
