Page 143 of Ashborne Phoenix

No.

Cali tried to sit up, but gave a small cry.

I cursed, but took a stumbling step backward, motioning to her not to move.

“The more she rests, the longer it will last,” she managed through teeth gritted against pain.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to know anymore. Didn’t want to hear her voice. I didn’t want to hear anything. Didn’t want to have to respond.

If I spoke, I might shatter.

“Vane, I did everything I could, I swear—”

“Enough,” I said through unmoving lips.

She went utterly still.

The world tilted strangely as I forced myself to turn, to walk back to the end of the room, to reach back for the doorknob, and open the door. But as I fled, the urge tightened my chest. I forced myself to stop before I actually stepped out the door. “Thank you,” I managed. “Thank you for saving her.”

I made myself look at Cali over my shoulder. My mind suddenly conjured the girl with the smiles and soft words when my world had been so hard, and dark. The gentle warmth and camaraderie—

I shook it off as Cali’s eyes widened. Had she seen those memories, also? I clenched my jaw.

“Grace is… everything to me.” I gave the words weight, insisting that she understand.

The light went out of Cali’s eyes, but she gave a small nod. “I will serve,” she murmured. “When I’m healed, I will. Do you need—”

“So help me, Cali, I’m grateful for what you did for her. But I need nothing more from you.” The words were stiff. They sounded furious. But they were frantic. Desperate.

She opened her mouth as if she might speak again, but I fled. I had to get back to Grace. Had to be there. Had to make certain she hadn’t faded. Wasn’t suddenly bleeding. She’d exerted herself against my mother… dear God, I’d thrown all that power at her. She’d had to wrestle it. Rest? She would have been taxed, even if she’d been at full health! But to push through that after bleeding, and so horrifically wounded? It was a wonder she hadn’t died already.

The thoughts pushed me faster with every step, until I was running before I was halfway down the corridor. The guards and servants watched me in alarm, but I ignored them, darting into the room and locking the door behind me with shaking hands, replacing the chair, then rushing to the bedchamber, to halt, standing over Grace’s sleeping form.

She didn’t move. She did breathe. Her cheeks were pink, but not flushed. And she slept. Deeply.

My breath came in short blasts. My chest squeezed.

Carefully, so carefully, because my skin was glass and might shatter if I took a heavy step, I turned and walked slowly across the room to the massive window at its other side.

Stepping into that warm light was disorienting.

The sun had risen on a beautiful day. Sunlight blazed in and made the room glow with warmth. The dragons were close. I could reach for Kham. I didn’t.

I placed both hands very carefully on the sill of that window, gripping until my fingernails dug in and splintered the wood.

Then, when I couldn’t hold it any longer, I inhaled deeply—sucking at the air—and whipped one arm up to cover my mouth, biting down on my forearm as I screamed into it, praying Grace wouldn’t hear, eyes screwed tightly shut, breath heaving in my nose as I inhaled, and screamed again.

Mother did it again. Even in death, she stole from me. From us. Even in death, she won.

High in the air above the castle, a dragon screamed, and I felt the rush in the bond.

‘No, Voski. She did not win. She struck a mortal blow. One that must be grieved. But do not be deceived: the enemy did not win.’

I breathed through my nose because I was still trying to stifle my own cries. ‘And if the healers can’t help Grace? If she dies, too? Kham, I can’t—’

I felt the rush of Kham’s compassion and almost screamed—I didn’t want his empathy! I wanted his fury! His strength! I wanted him to reassure me that she would never—

‘Hold fast, Voski,’ my dragon breathed in my head with such tenderness, I ached all over again. ‘I’m here. I will not leave you. You aren’t alone. And the enemy has. Not. Won.’