Page 41 of Spoils of war
I had to.
I had saved Will. I could save my brother.
I didn’t care who saw. What they’d do to me if they knew.
Behind me, Arche was shouting—fighting—but I couldn’t hear the words.
None of it mattered.
I just needed more time.
I searched for it.
That spark. That thing inside me that had lit up the lake. The light I had felt burning through me.
But I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’tfeelit. Nothing happened. I tried again, harder this time, pressing deeper like I could force him to stay just by wanting it enough. Like if I reached far enough inside myself, I would find the magic. Still nothing. I pushed until my head throbbed and my chest seized, until the pressure behind my eyes made the world spin. I kept going, even as my vision blurred, even when I couldn’t breathe.
"Please," I whispered. "Please, don’t leave me.”
It should have worked. I had power. I knew I did. I wasn’t imagining it.
Liciasawme glow.
But that didn’t change the fact that Einar didn’t move.
He just lay there.
Still.
Gone.
Then Arche was there again, his arms around my waist, dragging me back.
“Don’t touch her!” he barked, voice slicing through the noise. “Back the fuck off!”
The bald soldier came at me, hand outstretched, Arche stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body.
“Let me go—I can bring him back—I can still—”
“You can’t,” Arche snapped. “He’s gone.”
I shook my head. “No. No, he’s not—he’s not—”
But he dragged me back anyway. And I didn’t stop him. Because I couldn’t feel the magic. Couldn’t feel anything. Just Einar’s blood on my hands.
Arche kept his arm around me, and I let him.
Then he walked me home.
Or followed me. I don’t remember agreeing to it. I just moved. I just needed to get home.
The world slipped past in pieces—puddles reflecting the streetlamps, The blur of doorways, the wind rustling flags overhead. Blood clung to my hands. My sleeves. My skin.
I couldn’t stop seeing it.
Arche stayed beside me. I knew that much. He didn’t speak at first, or maybe he did.
His presence wasn’t comfort. It was gravity. Heavy. Unavoidable.
