Page 35 of The Puppeteer and the Poisoned Pawn

I jerk him away, gawking like I’ve never seen him before. “This is yourbrother, isn’t it? Why is no one helping him!”

“Baby—” Dessin tries to speak, but his lungs are filling. He coughs, wet and sloshing with blood.

“Tell me what to do,” I say frantically. “Just tell me what to do.”

Dessin groans loudly, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Unable to breathe. Unable to speak.

No.

Ruth is suddenly at Aurick’s side, hand over her mouth, fighting to hold in her sobs.

“He’s suffering,” she says through a garbled cry. “I think you need to say goodbye.”

I look down at Dessin, who is slowly suffocating, drowning, fighting a losing battle to breathe. And it hits me. It knocks the air from my lungs. He’s—dying. He’s trying to live with a broken body. And no one can help us.

“Dessin—” I whimper, reaching for his hand. “Oh my god.” I begin to cry.

He thrashes in my lap, unable to go easy, still trying to gasp for oxygen.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I tell him, locking my fingers with his. “I know you’ve fought your whole life. You were raised a warrior. And that’s all you’ve known.”

Tears flood my eyes, raining down my cheeks like a storm of agony.

“But—I realize asking you to keep fighting would be selfish.” A sob rattles through my body. And even though everyone’s eyes are on me. It’s just the two of us. And every alter I have grown to love too. “And I can’t be selfish because Iloveyou.”

I’m in love with you.

Dessin looks up at me with pleading eyes as more blood spills over his chin.

“So, if you’ve fought all you can… then, I want you to let go. Okay?” My sobs become erratic hiccups. “Go home. Wait for me there until it’s my turn, okay? You can go home now. You can be with Sophia and Arthur.”

I’m fighting to hold myself together, but I know he can make it. I know he just needs a push. He needs to know how much I love him. I lean down, kissing him on the forehead.

“I’ll love you until hell freezes over,” I croak. “Go see the stars.”

Dessin blinks, body silencing, tremors slowing to a stop.

And he doesn’t blink again.

9. “And even then…”

I stare at our bloody hands for a long moment.

Waiting.

Expecting.

I nearly forget about the group of people huddled around us. Watching me with tears glistening in their eyes, breathing shallowly, unsure of what to say next.

But Dessin is always ten steps ahead. This isn’t the end of us. He would have anticipated that attack. He would have something up his sleeve.

I have to be patient.

I give his hand a squeeze, but it’s limp, slipping from my grasp.

Someone says my name. I shake them off. Breath will fill his lungs again. The color will return to his face. “He’ll come back to me,” I say to no one in particular. I believe in him.

Something I’ve said makes Ruth weep loudly. But I ignore it. She just doesn’t understand how his brain works. He’ll figure this out. Maybe there’s an alter that was split to withstand fatal injuries. Is that possible? It must be.

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