“You can’t be near me right now, get up. Get up, now!”
He stands, snatches his weapons, and takes a step toward the cottage.
One – and my wall smacks into me.
I slam the last book closed and toss it across the room. It hits the wall, the centuries-old spine snapping and its pages fluttering to the ground.
That’s it – the absolute last book. I’ve used every ingredient. Every instrument. Every book in here. There is nothing more.
No substitute for the Spring or any way around needing its water.
Nothing.
I storm down into the sitting room, with a fresh Power Blocking Potion in one pocket and Kitten’s egg in my other.
Across the stream and on the other side of the field, Killian is coming at me looking just as angry as I feel. He’s slipping weapons onto his belt and fastening it in place. Kitten’s shirt is slashed, blood on her arms. Her legs are struggling for each step. My heart leaps into my throat.
Killian’s jaw is set in a hard line, his eyes meeting mine then flicking off toward the path. I rush down the stairs, but the others are nowhere in sight. Kitten looks close to death, hugging to Killian’s side. She looks like whatever just happened almost sucked her dry.
And she looks giddy with it.
She’s smiling.
Aeons. My chest is tight, making breathing hard.
Killian stops in front of me, and Kitten stops too, gripping his shoulder for support. She glances up with little reaction, just more smiling.
“What happened?” I ask – whisper.
Killian grunts, gripping Kitten’s wrist and prying her off of him before he hands her over. I fold her into my arms, her skin so cold under Eydis’ cotton/wool shirt that it shivers against my own. The fabric is quite thick, and she shouldn’t be cold.
“One step,” Killian growls.
Then he turns to march off down the path.
Her head has lolled, her breathing taking on the depths of someone falling from consciousness, so she doesn’t see Killian stop. See him sag.
“Please, fix her. I can’t,” he says, but he doesn’t look back.
Doesn’t wait for a response. Just walks off.
I scoop her up and carry her into the house. Her body is limp before I’ve even managed to get her inside, kicking Killian’s saddle bag across to the couch as I walk.
Cuts need bandages or tape. They need pure alcohol for cleaning. And salt – apparently. They need Killian. He did this damage, so he should be here fixing it, and normally he would.
What in the bloody Aeons happened?
I settle her on the cushions and rummage through the pack for his medical kit. Which better bloody be in here because I can’t be carrying her around the house searching for it.
One step.
How did we get to one step?
How did she push Darkness this far – when the guy knows the stakes? When the guy is the definition of unflinching control?
Was. Until we healed her arm.
And he’s pushed her too far training before. I should have heard them leave the house, should have stopped him. What would she possibly have to gain from training right now?
Relief floods me as my fingers find the tape and the last of his bottle of pure alcohol. Cuts mark her wrists, a few that tore shirt and never met skin. She doesn’t even flinch as I run the cloth over them. Carefully. Oh, so carefully.
Shouting outside grabs my attention. Pax, Seth, and Killian storm into the view of the bay window. The stream, the open field, trees, and beyond them the border, and my brothers about to fight each other. Killian didn’t hold back, by the look of it. He went straight up to Pax and told him his mate’s unconscious – again – or that she’s injured – again – or that her bubble has shrunk – again.
Or worse.
What could possibly be worse.
“She’s going to die!” Killian shouts, the boom of his voice echoes through the domain. “Let me take her through the Veil – the Queen –”
“No! She can’t be in that place, she can’t see it, she can’t feel it, I won’t allow it,” Pax snaps back. His teeth are bared, and he manages one more sharp sentence that I don’t get a chance to catch before shredding through his clothes and running from sight in Thane’s skin.
Killian takes off in the other direction – running.
Darkness doesn’t shout, and he doesn’t run. Except when he’s losing that control.
This is impossible. All of it. We aren’t enough. Not controlled enough. Not strong enough. Not brave enough and not smart enough.
Not enough for her.
Seth marches into the cottage, through the room, rummages in the kitchen, then comes out with a jar of dried apricots.
“Emotional eating?” I ask, kneeling back down beside Kitten. What Seth is eating is on the bottom of my list, buried under the weight of everything else, so I don’t even wait for a reply. “She can’t die. I know he thinks she must – that it’s part of the prophecy – but there’s no logic to it. What advantage would her death give us? The one thing to fight a grimm is something that’s finally dead. It makes no sense!”
His mouth is too full to speak, or maybe he has nothing to add, but he does nod. It doesn’t matter; nothing he could say would make any of this better. Gravity presses my anger down hard, just like it wants to press me down.
I search the room for a blanket to cover her, to try and warm her. Seth catches my direction, grabs the small red and white patterned thing from the back of his seat, and helps me drape it over her.
“How badly did Pax crack?” I ask, shoving stuff back into Killian’s bag.
Seth shrugs. “Pax and Thane argued between themselves more than they did with me or Killian. They’ve almost burned through that sigil, enough to react anyway. Killian thinks he’s killing her, Pax thinks it’s the MateBond, and Thane wants to rip Logan to
