Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(29)

“Did it hurt?” he whispers through the dark. “Is this place as awful as you imagined?”

I shrug. All I knew in the moment Evander disappeared was that I had to go after him, no matter the cost.

Not even the Deadlands could be awful with him by my side. My partner.

*

“Evander?” I mumble, surprising myself with how groggy I sound.

“No, sweet sister,” Simeon answers, a hitch in his voice, as I open my eyes and blink the grit from them. His face becomes clearer, from his messy hair to his waxy skin and his eyes rimmed with red.

There’s an open book in his lap, its pages crumpled, the ink running in places.

“You look like shit,” I blurt, putting a hand to my aching head without bothering to try sitting up. My whole body aches, and I don’t think it’s up for the challenge. “Rough night?” My mouth is dry, and I have to pause to lick my lips. “Where are we?”

I gaze around the plain but soothing room. The afternoon sun streams through the window, bathing bland portraits of lemon blossoms and cypress trees on all four walls and a wilting vase of flowers on the table opposite the bed in warm light.

We’re in the palace, in the healers’ wing.

“Where is he? Where’s Evander?”

I grip Simeon by his tunic and shake him so hard, his book slips to the floor. He gently pries away my shaking fingers. “I’m so sorry, Sparrow,” he says, his voice hoarse. “We couldn’t save him.”

The noise that escapes me is like the last breath of the dying. Pain burns through me, swallowing me up, like the yawning blackness of the Deadlands ravine.

Evander’s dying scream rings in my ears as the healer’s room shimmers before my eyes, becoming darker, sunless as the place where I last saw Evander’s body. The stink of the Shade’s flesh fills my nostrils. Its breath washes over me, ready to devour me as I lie helpless, watching the shell that was Evander, foolishly begging it to move.

My scream startles a bird from the windowsill.

“Shhhh, Sparrow.” Simeon touches my shoulder, and I fight to stop screaming. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stretches out beside me, the way we used to sleep in our shared bed at the convent, and repeats the words until my scream becomes a whimper.

Danial sweeps into the room carrying a tray. His eyes are more bloodshot than Simeon’s. “We’re going to make you better,” he says, “which is what Evander would want.” He sounds defeated. “That’s all we can do.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s dead!” I shout, my voice breaking over the words.

Danial bows his head. “Of course. My mistake.” He sets his tray down on a high table and begins pouring a dazzling blue liquid into a glass.

Simeon holds me against him, and I put my hands over his, clinging to them.

“I hurt, Si.” I sound like a child, but I can’t make myself stop any more than I can stop my body from shaking. “I can’t take it. I can’t.”

Danial strides to my bedside, smoothing back my hair and holding the glass of blue drink to my lips. “I’ve healed all your wounds, Sparrow. The only pain you feel is in here.” He taps his head, his kohl-lined eyes glistening. “I can’t heal the mind—no mage can. But this should help. Drink up.”

“What is it?” I manage.

“A tonic to soothe the nerves.”

Even through the haze of pain, I remember that the usual calming tonic is gray and smokes at the surface. “Are you sure?”

Danial almost smiles at that. “This one is stronger than those we normally give. It’ll help. Trust me.”

Somehow, between sobbing breaths, I drain the glass. It tastes like the small, hard green apples the Sisters of Death sometimes use in their pies. I close my eyes when Danial takes away the glass, suddenly exhausted.

I don’t want to scream anymore. I don’t want to do much of anything. I can only think of Evander, the Deadlands, and the Shade, but almost like an outsider. I know I should be hurting, but the pain can’t sink its hooks as deep into me as it did moments before I drank the potion.

“How is she?” someone asks from out of sight.

My head is too muddled to place her voice right away, but I recognize her long red braid when it swishes past the door. Master Cymbre doesn’t come in. Instead, she draws Danial into the hallway, and I don’t have the strength to wonder why.

With Simeon’s arms around me, I lie back and listen to his heartbeat, to the vibrant rhythm of life, until I slide into the nothingness of a dreamless sleep.

*

The sun still rises and sets, like it always has. It seems cruel that it wouldn’t stop, just for a little while, to show how much darker the world is without Evander in it.

I stop looking at the sun.

Without it, one day blurs into the next, until two or three or five have gone by.

*

Walking alone down the palace corridor that leads to Jax’s room, to my room, and a few doors beyond that, to Evander’s former room, I have no destination in mind. Nothing to fill my days.

I’m always alone now, even when someone is right beside me.

Footsteps jar me out of my drug-induced daze long enough to recognize Danial striding toward me, wearing his sturdy cotton healer’s whites and the gold pin with double turquoise gems that signifies his master status. He opens his mouth to say something, but my head spins violently and the polished marble corridor becomes a blur as I sink to my knees.