Page 90 of Starchaser
Too much blood. He’s losing too much blood.
“I’ll bring Will—”
“No,” he rasps, his chest rattling with every breath. “Not—here. Up—stairs.”
“I can’t carry you,” I insist. “We’ll never make it. If I just go—”
“Don’t”—he heaves, his body shuddering—“let—go.”
He tightens his heavy hold on me, and I grit my teeth, determined.
“Never,” I say, pulling him closer.
I send a quick prayer to the Stars, petitioning them for strength, and drag him through the water, to the edge of the pool.
He curses, hauling himself onto the rocky bank.
I grab him under the arms, pulling him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Not—your fault,” he murmurs, a cord in his neck bulging as I bolster him beneath his shoulder, cringing at the whimper that escapes his lips. I lead him to the staircase, my forehead slick with sweat.
The first couple of steps are the hardest. Halfway up, he stumbles forward, catching himself on the jagged stone with a low howl of agony. From that point on, it’s as if something shifts, and he insists on clawing his way forward, stone by stone. By the time we reach the top, he slams his hand against the wall, renewed vigor in his voice as he hums the words, “Adonoc verash melor.”
He teeters backward, and I think for a moment we’re both going to plummet to our deaths, but when the ceiling opens up, revealing my room, Titus lunges forward, scrabbling into the suite on all fours.
His eyes roll to the back of his head as he collapses onto my rug.
He doesn’t move.
Blood sprays the stone asWill slams his fist against the wall.
“You said—” Will spits, his voice rough, uneven. Unhinged. “You said she’d stopped.”
“William, please.” Titus sighs. “I’m quite all right.”
I can’t help but stare at him, sitting up in my bed, the wounds that only an hour ago gushed blood onto my sheets now healed, three thick pink scars amid the myriad of white lesions the only indication they ever existed. Will mended Titus’s flesh, but the loss of blood was evident in his pale face, his sluggish movements. I left his side only long enough to change from my bloodstained undergarment into a pair of trousers and a linen shirt, but I haven’t moved from the edge of the bed since, my hand hovering near his, close enough to touch.
“No, you’re notquite all right.” Will runs his hands throughhis hair, his palms stained red, even after washing Titus’s blood from his skin. “If I hadn’t been here—if I’d been even a minute too late—”
“You weren’t,” Titus says calmly. He shakes his head, eyes shut tight. “She just—she cut too deep.”
“Too deep?” Will’s eyes flare—a flash of gold light illuminating his face. “You should have told me. You should have said something—”
“So you could what?” Titus rolls his eyes. “Charm her into giving up her little habit?”
“I told you the last time,” Will says, his voice lethally quiet. “The next time she laid a hand on you, I would tear her arms from her body.”
Titus frowns, his nonchalant expression faltering as he meets Will’s vengeful stare. “I appreciate the sentiment, brother, but I’m afraid not even that would curb her addiction.”
“Addiction?” The word slips out of my mouth like a bitter poison.
Titus and Will both look at me then, as if they forgot I was in the room. From the moment Titus gained consciousness, Will alternated between scolding him and promising violence on Queen Calantha.
“Why would your mother do this to you?” I ask, angling myself toward Titus, noticing out of the corner of my eye the way Will calculates the proximity of my hand to his friend’s.
Titus scowls, but his eyes soften. “Calantha is not my mother.” He takes a deep breath—winces. “My father had my mother executed just after I was born. He married Calantha to fix his… mistake.”
My jaw goes slack. “Mistake?”
