Page 123 of Devoted

Movement at the far end of the corridor.

My instincts registered danger before my mind fully recognized the figure emerging from the shadows, stumbling toward us, one hand outstretched, the other dragging along the plaster as if he needed something solid to guide him.

Luca.

My first thought—he’s come to wish us luck.

Then I saw his face.

He was the color of death. Greyish pallor, none of his usual tan complexion left, his skin translucent and splotchy. Luca’s poor sheared-off hair was plastered to his forehead, his temples gleaming with sweat, and his eyes were glassy. Unfocused.

His mouth moved.

No sound came out.

“Luca.” I reached him just as his knees buckled, bracing my shoulder under his arm just before he hit the floor. I eased him to the ground, his limbs shaking. Too much heat radiated through his shirt, as if he was consumed by fever.

Fuck. “I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, talk to me⁠—”

He made a sound. Something that might have been my name or a groan of pain; it was impossible to tell.

“What the fuck happened?” Gabriel dropped down beside us. “When did this start? Luca, can you hear me?”

Luca’s head lolled toward Gabriel, then he started choking, some horrible airless rasp of sound, his fingers clawing at his throat.

“Get the healers,” I screamed. “Get someone to help him.”

“Move, Emberline.” Nico elbowed me out of the way, ignoring the fact my brother was fucking choking to death, grasped the hem of Luca’s shirt before I could ask what he was doing, and ripped it wide open, baring his chest, shoulders, his… right arm.

“Holy gods…” The words ended on a hiss of air as I tumbled backward, surrounded by a solid wall of legs, my shock growing faster than the shocked silence spreading out around us.

The black started at Luca’s wrist and ran up over his shoulder, spreading in irregular, branching lines the way frost spread across glass—except this was my brother and the black was… what the fuck was I even looking at?

On his bicep, the skin had split wide open, weeping something that was not quite blood, reeking of dark magic and rot.

Blackwood’s magic dagger must have hit Luca that day at La Sala.

All this time, I thought I’d knocked him out of the way, but… the proof was right in front of me. Nico must have reached the same conclusion, blowing out a shaky curse before pulling the shirt closed.

“That wound has been festering for days,” Gabriel said urgently. “We have to get him to the healers.”

“I agree. Let’s move. The infirmary is the best place for him.” Nico pushed to his feet, not looking at any of us, but past us, down the hallway, his brow pinched together in worry.

“What are you thinking about? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He shook his head. “We’ll carry him to the infirmary and have Gia and her healers look at him. They’ll know better than me how to treat this. Maybe… it’s just an infection.”

But he said that as if Luca would be lucky if that was all it was.

CHAPTER 47

EMBERLINE

The villa’s sleek, modern infirmary smelled of herbs and something medicinal. Gia and the two healers—all older females with patient, unhurried natures—took one look at Luca and cleared the room of everyone who wasn’t essential. I stayed anyway, and nobody told me to leave a second time.

I sat on a cold metal chair, holding his good hand, not letting go.

A deep, silent guilt gnawed, biting chunks out of every story I’d ever told myself.