Page 166 of Veinblood
The one who promised he’d always protect me.
“I know,” I whisper back, and the shadowblade slides home.
His eyes widen and his body arches as the sword finds its mark. Steel rings against stone as his own weapon falls from nerveless fingers.
“Sacha.” My name on his lips sounds like forgiveness, like love, like goodbye.
I catch him as he falls, cradling his head. His fingers slip from my face, leaving a streak of blood across my cheek. I go down with him, lowering him to the ground as gently as I can. His hand loosens its grip on my wrist and his eyes fix on something beyond my shoulder.
I don’t move, listening as his breathing grows shallow, then stops altogether. When the light fades from his eyes, I bow my head and let the tears come.
For the brother I lost. For the children we used to be. For the man he might have been if the world had been kinder. If I had been wiser. If love had been enough to save him from the poison that ate him alive from the inside.
The man who destroyed our family, who cost me twenty-seven years of my life, who tortured me and murdered our parents … none of it matters now.
Because all I can think about is that my brother is dead, and I’m the one who killed him.
Chapter Forty-Six
ELLIE
“What breaks must be cleansed before it can be mended.”
The Healer's Codex, ancient Tidevein manuscript
The silencethat falls feels wrong. Too quiet after all the violence, like the entire world is holding its breath. Sacha is still kneeling beside Sereven, the fingers of one hand curled around the sword’s hilt. I’m not sure he’s aware that he’s holding it. From where I’m standing, I can see the blood pooling beneath the body, spreading outward until it touches Sacha’s knees.
The satisfaction I expected to feel through our bond doesn’t come. Instead, something jagged and terrible hits me that makes my heart ache. The grief isn’t for what Sereven was at the end, but for what he used to be. For the loss of someone who mattered before he chose to destroy everything good in himself and the life around him.
Sacha isn’t mourning the death of the Authority’s High Commander. He’s mourning the death of his brother.
I take a step toward him, then stop. The way he’s holding himself, so perfectly still, makes me hesitate. This momentbelongs to him alone. If I intrude now, I might break something that can’t be fixed.
Instead, I turn to Mira, who is still leaning against the wall, blood seeping between her fingers where she has them pressed to her ribs. The sight of red staining her hand makes my stomach clench, and I hurry over to her. Her head lifts, eyes clear and breathing shallow but steady.
“Let me see.”
She moves her hand reluctantly. I crouch down so I can see properly. The cut runs along her lowest rib, deep enough to be painful, but not life-threatening.
“Leave me. I’m fine. Check Varam. I don’t think he is.”
Varam.
I twist around to where Varam lies. His body rests at angles that aren’t normal. One arm is twisted beneath his torso, the other above his head. Blood mattes his hair, painting one side of his face red. One leg is bent in a way that tells me it’s broken.
I straighten and cross to him on legs that feel disconnected from my body. Each step takes effort, like walking through deep water. All the while I’m conscious of Sacha behind me. Of the grief threatening to overwhelm me through our connection if I let it.
When I reach Varam, I lower myself beside him and reach out. My hands are shaking so violently, it takes three attempts to find the place in his neck where his pulse should be.
Please. Please be alive.
I can’t feel anything. I press harder, bending lower to rest my head against his chest.
“Please, Varam. Please.”
And then I hear it. A faint thud.
I hold my breath.
