Page 143 of The Curse of Golden Blood
The spear took shape slowly. "Any last words, sister?" she asked as it solidified between her fingers. Its head curved like a scimitar, fire running down its length in hypnotic patterns.
"You should have been the one who died that night," I spat. "I'm not afraid to die for the people I love."
The spear drove down, down, down, shattering stone, whistling through air.
But it never touched me.
Instead, it plunged through flesh that wasn't mine. Blood that wasn't mine. Pain that wasn't mine.
Someone else had stepped between me and Ylvena's blade. Someone I would have given anything in that moment to protect.
Someone I loved.
"Pelbie." Her name fell from my lips on a choked cry as she stumbled back. "Pelbie!"
Blood bloomed around the wound, soaking through the front of her healer's robe. Her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, staring up at me with wide eyes.
I reached out to her, desperate to do something, to stop the blood, to keep her from dying because of me. But my hand froze a few inches away.
She managed a bloody smile, blood on her teeth, blood on her lips, blood everywhere. "You must... live.
"No, no, no." My hands found the wound in her stomach, like that could possibly fix it. Like the touch of my mortal skin could possibly stem the blood loss. "Don't say that. Don't talk like that. Stay with me, Pelbie. Please."
Her next word broke on a wet cough. "You were the only thing I ever got to choose... sister.”
Crying hadn't saved me, but somehow it came now, hot and burning down my face. Hotter than a star. Bright enough to peel mountains from the heart of the earth and blast every injustice into ash.
Her eyes grew heavier, her skin paling by the second. Still, that small smile quirked the corner of her mouth. Blood in the crease, gathering there.
Get up, Pelbie, I wanted to say. Stop this foolishness. Get. Up.
She died staring at me, her final breath releasing between her lips in a soft sigh. She almost looked peaceful. Like none of the pain of this court, of this reality, existed anymore. Like she was home.
Home. That was the last thought I remembered before the rage took over.
Mother above, help me.
I was going to destroy them all.
thirty-eight
Second Sun
Zydar
Theportaltorethroughreality like a wound in the world's flesh. Golden light spilled from the breach, carrying the scent of scorched earth and dying flowers. I stepped through first, my boots hitting the crystalline ground of the Sun Court's outer gardens with a sound like breaking glass.
The others followed behind me. Gryven gripped his blade so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
Everything here was wrong. The light fell at impossible angles, casting shadows that moved independently of their sources. Flowers bloomed in shades that hurt to look at directly, their petals edged with fire that never consumed them. Even the air tasted of honey and ash, sweet poison that coated the tongue.
"Where is she?" Narietta's voice carried the weight of a thousand nightmares. Her red eyes scanned the distant palace, searching for any sign of Miralyte.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the sound that ripped through the air stole the words from my throat. It was barely human. A scream of such raw anguish that it seemed to tear holes in the very fabric of the world.
Miralyte.
My wings snapped open without conscious thought. The sound had come from the palace itself, from the golden spires that scraped the belly of the sun. I launched myself skyward, leaving the others to follow as they could.
