Page 116 of A Thief to Die For

If the connection is allowing me to sense any of Agatha’s pain, there’s no way I could separate it from mine. I’m consumed with my own.

But if Agatha could come closer, maybe I could help her. Heal her. ‘Bring her here,’ I wheeze between breaths. I don’t know how much more injury I can take on before my heart stops, but I can try.

Marian seems to understand it would speed up my dying, and her head returns to shaking.

I try to spin it a different way. ‘Don’t let her die … alone.’

And I mean it. The connection can do a lot of miraculous things, but with absolute clarity, I see now what the heart of it is – to connect. To not have to do this cruel world alone.

That’s what I can give her now.

Marian quiets. ‘I-I don’t think she would want to be here right now. She’s too ashamed of what she’s done.’

I don’t have the strength to argue, so I pull on the fragile threads connecting Agatha and me, which is damn near impossible. They fortify instantly the more I focus on her.

And then, for the first time, I open myself up to her fully. I start by accepting my place in this. Accepting Agatha. Accepting us as partners in the connection, together. A warmth, almost a wonder, gathers in my gut.

I feel her mind startle, sensing me draw close mentally. She doesn’t resist it, and a door cracks open between us. It’s incredible to be exposed to the inner workings of someone. She is injured, shot with a bolt, and now I can feel the sharpness of that wound in her gut. Along with it come her emotions – loneliness. Her curiosity at what I’m doing. Hope. Her longing to be loved. Her desire to be wanted by me.

Ultimately, it’s her shame that hits the hardest. It’s overpowering. I choke on some blood. Spit. Without her even saying a word, I know she regrets her betrayal. Deeply.

Darkness spots in my vision. If I’m going to save her, I’m running out of time.

I forgive you. It’s okay. Let me help you.

Don’t shut me out.

I imagine her hearing it. And I think she just might, because the fear and some of her emotional pain melts away.

Marian takes my hand, and I squint against the sun, wanting to see her one last time.

‘I love you,’ she says in a broken whisper.

My ability to speak is gone. I love you too.

For doing what was right for me and not letting me break my vows.

For showing me what it means to fall completely in love.

Then with everything I have left, I reach through the connection to Agatha and siphon all I can of her wound.

Rufus struggles to get the right angle to cut the rope. It doesn’t help that his sword is as sharp as a piece of bark. After an eternity of sawing, the fraying spot begins to unravel. I grunt and rip the remaining strands free. The disgusting gag in my mouth goes next. I spit. ‘Faster,’ I urge Rufus, then take over the unwrapping of my legs from the bands binding me.

‘Ryland,’ I shout, pushing to my feet. I slow considerably when I reach him, because I don’t know what I’m looking at, and I’m scared to figure it out.

Miraculously, his eyes blink open slowly.

I huff – he’s still alive. But how?

A line forms between his brows as he struggles to lift his head. His confusion grows when he sees Agatha lying on his chest.

There’s so much blood. It puddles between them.

‘Agatha,’ I venture tentatively, my hands shaking. I know she’s injured too after taking a bolt to the stomach, but that didn’t stop her from running to Ryland the second Rufus set her free. Dread pools in my gut. She’s so still. I drop down beside the two of them.

Slowly, Ryland rolls Agatha to the side, and her arm smacks hard against the ground.

I gasp, my hands flying to cover my mouth, knowing she’s dead.