Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(54)

Meredy mumbles something I can’t quite make out. I bring my ear closer to her lips.

“She didn’t want to come,” Meredy whispers. Even now, in her pain and her grief, her eyes are resolutely dry. “I came all this way, and she didn’t want to return with me. At least now I can join her here.”

I shake my head. “No. You can’t, because Evander wouldn’t want that. Firiel doesn’t want that.” I take her icy hand in mine and squeeze it. A faint scent of vanilla wafts toward me, like I always imagined the Deadlands flowers would smell, or perhaps sweeter. “Hang on just a little longer, Meredy. Lysander needs you. Elibeth needs you. Your mother needs you. You have to hang on.”

Fumbling with my belt, I finally find the honey and tip the glass vial to her lips. A golden drop stains her mouth, but she doesn’t try to eat it or wipe it off.

She just stares up at the sky, unmoving. I slap her cold cheek to startle her into taking a shallow breath. “Meredy. I know it’s tempting to give up. Believe me, I know. But for Evander’s sake, I won’t let you.”

Her shoulders shake as she makes a wheezing sound that might be laughter. “Too little, too late, Sparrow.” More blood trickles down her chin. “If you were going to come all this way for me,” she rasps, “you could’ve just taken my money when I offered it. You would’ve done us both a favor.”

Dropping her hand, I shift my gaze to Lysander and the bloody mess he’s making of the rogue necromancer. I can’t believe Meredy’s trying to make me feel even more rotten than I already do after I came all this way to save her.

“I didn’t have to come at all,” I say softly. “And you don’t have to thank me, but how about being glad I’m here?”

“Why would I be glad?” Meredy’s breaths are becoming more rapid and shallow by the moment, but she’s not as far gone as I thought. If she’s busy arguing, I have this wild hope she won’t suddenly give up and die on me. “You can’t bring Firiel back. She’s made that clear. And you can’t stop me from dying. You’ve been no help at all.”

“You’re right,” I mutter. Part of me wants to give her a good shake despite the blood trickling out of her. “And without my help, you wasted all your money and got yourself killed for someone who didn’t want to live again, even if it meant a second chance at life with you.”

Meredy’s next words are almost too soft to hear. It’s only by watching the shape of her lips that I understand. “Go. Please, go away. I didn’t need you before, and I certainly don’t need you now.”

Heat rushes to my face. “Way to overestimate yourself, sweetheart.”

I expect another biting remark. But the spark of life is leeching from her eyes, swift as the sun once it touches the horizon. I scoop her into my arms, careful to avoid the deep gash in her side that will be her death wound if we don’t get to a healer soon.

Swallowing hard, I tear my gaze from the constellations of freckles dusting her cheeks and pray to Vaia yet again. This time, I beg that I won’t have to watch this girl, this echo of Evander, die in my arms.

I wish Jax and Simeon would hurry up. If they’re not back soon, I’m leaving without them. Meredy’s life depends on it.

I carry her over to Lysander, who’s still grinding the dead necromancer’s bones, and gingerly lay the now-unconscious girl over the bear’s back. Hopefully he’ll be willing to carry both of us to a healer if I ask politely.

As I grab hold of the bear’s loose chain, Simeon and Jax crash into the clearing, sweaty and winded and covered in scratches.

“We need to go. Now,” I shout. “What kept you?”

“The one called Vane. He got away,” Jax pants. “But the woman wasn’t as lucky. She was bleeding badly, so it was easy to pick up her trail.”

“And is she—?”

“I killed her.” Simeon’s face is eerily solemn, and I realize this is the first time he’s taken the life of a living person. “The whole way back, we’ve been trying to work out the meaning of what she said before she died.”

I frown at them. “Which was?”

Simeon and Jax exchange a glance, and Jax answers, “There will be others.”





XVIII




Three vials of calming potion first thing in the morning are all it takes for me to feel comfortably numb about yesterday’s rescue. To stop my hands from shaking, so I look almost normal when I make my way to the palace’s dining hall.

I haven’t even reached the marble stairs when I bump into Jax and Simeon, both wearing their swords and necromancer’s belts. “What are you two—?”

“Looking for you,” Simeon chimes in quickly, grinning at his own timing. “We ran into each other after breakfast and decided now’s the time to go looking for the rogue necromancer, Vane. We’ll start in the Ashes, since that’s where Meredy met him. If we wait too much longer, he might leave the city.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’s already gone,” Jax adds, his crystal-blue eyes flashing. There’s a stain on his tunic, something that dried sticky and shiny just beneath his master necromancer’s pin. He rubs it absently.

“What happened there?” I ask.