Wince’s field of vision narrowed until all he could see was the gray of Tollan’s eyes. He could see in them a history that was now lost—the three of them, Tollan, Wince, and Uri. They had left him alone in a world he didn’t want to face without them. A tear slid down from his eye, and as it hit the polished stone floor, sound flooded back into his ears. His gaze widened. Air filled his lungs.
A sound—the keening of the truly brokenhearted—shattered the silence. Elam had run to Tollan’s side and collapsed beside him, sobbing into Tollan’s stilled chest. “Why did you do that? Why didn’t you get out of the way, you stupid, beautiful man?”
Wince thought that perhaps he should go to him, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what Elam was saying. Why hadn’t they gotten out of the way? Why had he believed that he had to die to protect Tollan?
In Above, he had been raised on stories of knights that battle beasts to save a damsel in distress and men that died to save the ones they loved. He nearly choked on the irony as he realized once again how foolish the things he had learned Above had truly been.
His eyes were drawn to Elsha. Her laughter was like a knife. She looked like Devery. They had the same eyes, though Wince doubted that any warmth had ever touched Elsha’s gaze. Her face was split by a smile that spoke of absolute victory. There were no damsels in this room that required rescuing. She had accomplished her goal. The House of Daghan was dead, when they could have simply jumped out of the way.
Suddenly, Gemma crashed into Elsha at inhuman speed. With two flicks of her wrists, Devery’s sister was missing both of her drawing fingers.
Elsha hissed at her. “Do you think that will stop me, you sewer rat?” She stuck out her tongue and licked at the stump of her right hand. A mage mark flared on her tongue, and Wince watched in awe and disgust as the severed finger grew back. “You can’t win,” she said, then licked at the other hand. “Don’t you know that, yet? There’s nothing you can do that I haven’t prepared for. I was born for this. Revenge is my entire purpose.”
Gemma had not expected that. Hadn’t Devery said that there was no mark to grow body parts back? Apparently, his sister knew something he didn’t, but Gemma didn’t have time to wonder because a voice behind her drew her attention.
“Stop it!” Katya pleaded. “Please, Aunt Elsha! Stop! You don’t have to …”
Gemma stared at the little girl, wide-eyed, for the span of a heartbeat. Elsha snapped a mark into existence in front of her, and it came flying toward Gemma, its edges sizzling like acid. At the last instant, Gemma dodged to the side, then launched herself at Elsha. Her blade bit into the Vagan woman’s side, leaving a rent in her gown six inches long. The mage mark hit the wall and ate a hole through the paneling.
Katya ran toward them, putting herself too close to the fighting for Gemma’s comfort. “Please,” she cried, as tears streamed down her face. “Please listen to me! It doesn’t have to be like this. The end of this doesn’t have to hurt!”
Elsha howled in pain, but then she placed her hand on her side. A visible wave of mage work spread outward from her and she grimaced, “Silly Katy, in the end, everything hurts.” She turned her attention back to Gemma. “Do you really think that a knife is going to kill a fully trained mage queen?” She flicked her wrist, and another mark sparked into existence—this time a ball of flame. It catapulted toward Gemma, who ducked, then somersaulted toward Elsha.
“Your mother’s dead, Elsha. We’ll free the other—” Elsha interrupted her with a mark that turned into a sword. It shot through the air like an arrow directly toward Gemma, who had to dive to the side to avoid being impaled.
As she launched herself out of the way of the flying blade, Gemma caught a glimpse of Katya, who was standing stiffly, her head tilted to the side as if she were listening to something with all her attention. “Mite, get out of the way! She’ll kill us both if we’re not careful!”
“It just goes to show,” said Elsha, her gaze lingering on Gemma’s blade, “how little you really understand about anything. I have nothing left to lose. Nothing!” she screamed, her eyes bulging with the effort. “I’ve lost the only person who ever loved me. I’ve given up everything for this vendetta, and I …”
“That’s not true, Auntie. I know it seems like it is. I … I can hear the pain inside you. You miss him so, but …” Katya’s voice was as sincere as Gemma had ever heard her. “You can still have him. He’s alive,” she said, solemnly. “Cadry is alive.”
Gemma couldn’t help but glance at her. Katya meant every word that she was saying. The little girl’s heart was written across her face and she wanted Gemma to let her aunt live.
Gemma turned to look at Devery. She needed to know what he thought. She didn’t know whether she should trust Katya’s instincts, but she knew she could trust his. But the man that she loved was collapsed in a heap on the floor, his breathing shaky and shallow. Devery didn’t have time for her to waste.
She glanced back at Elsha, whose eyes were wide with shock. “What did you say?” Tears filled her eyes. “Are you sure? Is it true?” Her voice shook.
Just then, Gemma saw Elam stand up behind Elsha. He grabbed the mage woman by the hair and yanked her head backward. “No, Elam!” The words had barely left her lips when Elam slammed the blade of his dagger into Elsha’s throat, then yanked it sideways. Gemma could only watch in horror as a gurgling noise bubbled up from the opening in Elsha’s throat. Elam spat through his tears, “You’re wrong, Princess. You didn’t prepare for everything. You didn’t prepare for me.”
He continued to hold her by the hair as blood spurted down Elsha’s regal gown. Her cold blue eyes whirled in panic for a few seconds, and then they just stared fixedly into nothing. After a few more seconds, the blood stopped spurting and Elam tossed Elsha’s body to the floor like trash.
“Prick!” he howled, staring down at his bloody hands.
Gemma didn’t know who to help first. Wince still sobbed over Tollan’s body. Elam, hands bloodstained, stood as if he were lost, his gaze fixed on Elsha’s corpse. Katya was huddled on the floor, sobbing into her hands, and Devery was pushing himself to stand.
With a grunt of decision, she moved toward Katya. “Oh, mite, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful for you.” She bent over and wrapped her arms around the girl’s shoulders. She really was just a spit of a thing, far too small to have seen such horrors.
Katya looked up and met Gemma’s gaze. “I … I didn’t know, until … I couldn’t hear her, before. But in her mind, she was so sad. She just wanted him back, the boy that Grandmother took from her.”
Gemma stared at her. “What do you mean? In her mind? You could … you could hear her thoughts?”
Katya nodded. “I can hear everyone’s thoughts, if they’re loud enough.”
“Loud? I don’t …” Gemma looked to Devery, who had managed to join them. He glanced sadly at his sister’s corpse, then met Gemma’s gaze.
“Katy,” he said. “How long have you been able to do this?” The look in his eyes told Gemma that this was a revelation to him, as well.
Katya wiped her face on the sleeve of her dress and stood up, forcing Gemma to stand up, too. The three of them stood, ignoring the bodies and the blood around them as Katya replied, “Always, though I didn’t know what it meant when I was little. I’ve always heard thoughts that are strong. Feelings that are pure and true and honest.” She blushed, slightly. “That’s why I knew to trust you, right away, because my Papa thought so loudly about you.”
Devery, silver-haired and wrinkled, winked at Gemma. “It’s true. I do have some embarrassingly loud thoughts about you.”
Gemma couldn’t bring herself to smile. Not after all that had happened. “What did you hear in Aunt Elsha’s thoughts, Katy?”