Page 99 of Storm

“The bomb?”

“Yes.”

“How long do my people have?”

“Days, hours, minutes.”

A vitalising touch strokes over my cheek. I want that touch again. I want him. Mine.

“Go, Melek. I have her.”

CHAPTER 31

THE NOT-ENDING

Seraphina

I’ve never seen Ren run so fast in his entire life. Not for anything. Not anyone. Even when he used to indulge my fancies, racing against the kelpies, before he went undercover.

“Ser.” He skids to a halt in front of me. I have been wearing a path at the Willow’s entrance, waiting for his return, chewing on pine bark to stem the effects of the fairy wine. Sunny is still with his uncle, sleeping in Ren’s cottage. Thank the mother. If either of them saw Storm like this, they would think the worst.

“To my workroom.” I jog beside him, rushing past quiet houses, everyone long tucked into bed for the night.

We take a sharp curve before the tree leading up to our lodgings—the ones we built opposite each other many moons ago. “Quick.” I hold open the swinging door behind the apothecary. A bell chimes, Luna making an appearance.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Her old bones practically creak with jest. As one of the most seasoned crones within the Fairy Lands, nothing is serious in nature to her.

“Place her here.” I point to a low bed next to a roaring fireplace. “Lu, I need dragon’s blood now.”

The old woman mutters “Bossy” under her breath.

Ren does as he is told, extracting his sliced wrist from Storm’s mouth, the delicate crystal-entombed rings I’ve kept safe for him gracing his lithe fingers. “Is it enough?” His face is pale.

“Go. Sit.” I point to a wooden rocking chair by the bed.

He takes his worn legs over to the chair, my eyes wandering back to the patient, her body slack and a small, moving bundle on her chest. “Goddess.” Phoenix. That explains the blood.

I pull ‌open the brown cloth covering the small face. One bright blue iris and one milky pearlescent orb watch me, inquisitive. Fae eyes. Mother sight.

There’s one endless moment I allow myself to witness her, this miracle. She squawks, tiny fingers opening and closing around a glimmering chain. The tip of my pointer finger finds her smooth forehead, needing to know why she is here. It is tumultuous, rolling, a whirlwind of pictures flashing incoherently. Images of a girl with white hair and two-toned eyes, of a world not our own, and an explosion.

Singed, my finger retreats.

“Seraphina.” Luna waves the dragon’s blood in front of me.

“Take the child.” I swap the liquid for the baby.

“The human’s child is fae?”

Ignoring her question, I take a needle, pricking my finger. I place ten drops of blood within the tonic vial.

“Open up, Stormy.” I take her jaw in my hand. The brush of our skin confirms what I already know; she’s barely hanging on by a strand. Melek and Ren’s blood are the only things keeping her alive.

I push the tonic bottle past her lips, and she splutters, her eyes flying open. “Drink,” I order. She sips.

Noises come from outside the apothecary. Ren stands on wobbly legs. “You need to rest,” I protest.

“I need to know what’s going on.” Ignoring him as he exits through the door, my focus is on my patient. The dragon’s blood and my blood mixed together should be enough to sustain her. I’ve never used it before. My father said it was a last resort.