The Spell Realm (The Sorcery Code #2)(63)
The message seemed to reverberate in his mind, repeating over and over again as he slowly began to digest its meaning. Recalling Augusta and her spell, Blaise realized that Augusta had done something to him, causing him to black out.
As awareness came back, Blaise became cognizant of his body lying still on the floor. His limbs felt weak and heavy, drained of all energy. A wave of helpless fury surged through him as the full meaning of Gala’s words dawned on him.
She was gone.
The woman he loved more than life itself was gone from this world.
He didn’t know how Augusta had accomplished that task, but that didn’t matter right now. He couldn’t let himself give in to the grief and hatred choking him from the inside; he needed to be able to think, to plan his revenge.
He could hear someone in the room with him, and he did his best to lie still, to pretend to be unconscious. Opening his eyes to a narrow slit, he saw his Interpreter Stone and a few cards lying spilled on the floor a few feet away. If he could only reach them quickly . . . but those few feet might as well have been miles, given the paralyzing weakness still gripping his body.
There was a sound of light footsteps and a rustle of skirts—and then the familiar scent of jasmine enveloped him as Augusta knelt next to him.
“I know you’re awake,” she said softly, her hand brushing lightly against his cheek. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve seen you wake up plenty of times.”
Blaise opened his eyes, not bothering to hide the hatred burning within him. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. “What did you do, Augusta?”
She stared at him, her gaze hardening. “It’s dead,” she said curtly, and he could see her hand tightening around her Interpreter Stone. “I know because I had a locator spell on it, and the locator shows nothing. Also, you are very much alive and not losing your life’s essence—which I tied to that creature.”
Blaise’s hatred intensified. So that was how she’d done it: Augusta had used Gala’s feelings for Blaise against her.
Something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face because she grabbed a couple of cards and held them close to her Stone. “Don’t even think about it,” she said quietly. “You won’t make it.”
Cursing the aftereffects of the draining spell, Blaise let his body relax, as though accepting the truth of her words. Half-closing his eyelids, he glanced toward the cards on the floor, spotting a paralyzing spell that would have come in handy.
At the same time, he heard Augusta let out a weary sigh. “Listen, Blaise . . .” Her tone was conciliatory now. “I had to do it, don’t you see? It was too dangerous . . . If you had only seen what this creature did—”
Shutting out Augusta’s words, Blaise gathered all of his remaining strength. He would get only one attempt at this, and he had to make it count. Ignoring the screaming weakness in his muscles, he swiftly rolled toward the Stone, his hands scrambling frantically for the cards.
And as he blindly slotted one into the Stone, Augusta’s spell hit him in full force.
It was like being struck by lightning. Every cell in his body exploded in agony, his body jerking under the lash of the energy blast. The pain was so intense that he lost consciousness again, his mind going blank.
*
When Blaise woke up again, he first became aware of the heavy, slow beat of his heart. His body was one big ball of pain, and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs required massive effort. Groaning, Blaise tried to move—an attempt that sent waves of agony through him again.
Nauseous, he forced himself to lie still, willing the spinning in his head to subside. Whatever spell Augusta hit him with had been just short of lethal.
After a few minutes, he managed to open his eyes. Ignoring the pain in his neck, he slowly turned his head and surveyed the hallway.
Augusta lay on the floor beside him, her body unmoving. He had managed to hit her with the paralysis spell after all, he realized with relief. Her eyes were closed, and there was a small pool of blood spreading out from a wound on the side of her head. She must’ve hit her head when she fell. Probably a mercy, Blaise thought with uncharacteristic coldness; otherwise, the spell would’ve left her conscious, but unable to move at all—a feeling that was likely worse than mere unconsciousness.
Painfully rolling over onto his side, Blaise reached for the Stone that lay next to him. The simple movement sent his stomach roiling, but he managed to close his hand around it and grab a few cards before he had to close his eyes to combat the nauseating dizziness. After a few moments, he forced his lids open again to study what he was holding.
There was only one card that was even remotely related to a healing spell. Cursing, Blaise spied his pencil lying on the floor and reached for it, his hand shaking from the effort it took to grab the object. Then, ignoring the churning sickness in his stomach, he began to slowly write the appropriate spell.
Knowing that he was not in his best mental shape, Blaise took extra time to accomplish his task, making sure the spell would be safe. If he accidentally killed himself, he would never see Gala again. Anger surged through him again at the thought, and as soon as the spell healed him, he jumped to his feet, every cell in his body clamoring for vengeance.
Walking over to Augusta, he stared at her prone figure, a vengeful plan forming in his mind. His former lover had tried to make him an unwilling instrument of Gala’s destruction, and Blaise would make certain she regretted it.