Page 94 of Night of Death and Flowers

“When?” she asks, impatience teetering on the edge of her tone.

“Tonight, but first,” I say, sensing her waning magic, “let me heal you.”

Her eyes widen. “How?”

“Eleanore,” I say with a croak, the spark of her gold magic swimming in my core. “She was already dying.”

Her chest lifts then falls as her breaths uneven. “I’m malnourished and tired. Healing magic won’t help.”

“Okay, we’ll eat first, then you can rest just for a couple of hours.”

“I don’t need rest,” she argues, and I arch a brow when she yawns. “Okay, but only for two hours. I want to get as far away from this temple as possible.”

“Of course. Azkiel is going to break the blood oath tying you to the Harvest so we can get out of here.”

She lowers her voice to a soft whisper and tugs me to the side. “Do you trust him?”

I wrestle with my answer for a moment. “Our leaving is what he wants.”

Her eyes run over my dress. “Did he make this for you?” I nod and she grimaces. “Have you…” she leans closer to my ear, “grown close to him?”

“No!” The lie curls around my tongue, like a tendril of silence—because admitting the truth is far worse.

She nods. “Good. I’d hate to see you fall deeper into darkness.” Knowing threads her eyes, and she turns and walks back to Drake before I can ask her more about what happened.

Azkiel lights a torch from the wall, bathing us in shadows of flickering flames, and we form some kind of meal—mushrooms, with berries and plant leaves.

I grimace when I bring the clay plate to my nose, but my stomach grumbles in protest, and I quickly shovel down the food. When I look up, both Azkiel and Drake are glaring at each other.

Until Azkiel, he was the only one I ever thought about kissing. There were other boys, for years, ones I kissed and allowed them to touch me—distractions from the boredom of living in Ennismore. But not once had any of them consumed my thoughts. Not like Drake, and definitely not like the God of Death.

I shove my plate aside, then stand. I can’t be thinking about Azkiel’s fucking chest, or those lips, or those damned thighs. It’s my magic. It must be. Its heightened state is making me feel things toward him that I know I shouldn’t.

Ari’s blonde brows lift. “Are you getting sick, Cali? You seem flustered.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, then touch my fevered forehead, but she doesn’t look convinced. “I just need to lie down.”

Azkiel stands, his lips forming a hard line. He casts his eyes over all of us, pausing over Ari, then landing on me. “I will take the first watch,” he informs.

The wrinkle between my brows deepens as he leaves, torch in hand. We follow him, not back up the stairs, but into an adjoining room instead. He places his torch in a bracket on the wall, and my eyes trailing the flickering flames from the sconce, spilling light over the wide bedchamber.

Arabella walks up beside me, then grabs my hand as her violet gaze assesses the room. “I’m going to sleep. You should too, so we can get out of here.”

I pull my hand away from hers when decay magic stings into my fingers without warning. “I will. I just need to do something first.”

I breathe in the musty, yet lightly perfumed odor of the room, as if the incense burned here over a century ago still somehow lingers.

My mind spins as the reality of my sister’s return sinks in, accompanied by the desperation to leave this island. But the magic in my body stirs, building to a pressure that’s almost intolerable.

I press my palm against an ache in my temples, then run back out into the rain. The food did little to ease my hunger. My fingers are charred by the time I see Azkiel again. His eyes focus on the forest, wearing a quizzical look.

“Something’s wrong,” I say, coming up behind him. Ever since Ari returned, her magic has somehow heightened mine. I clamp my eyes shut, and when I open them again, Death is staring down at me with such intensity my breath stammers.

“You need to let it out, Poison.” His fingers intertwine with mine.

“How?” “I can absorb your magic,” he explains. “You’re practically vibrating with it.”

“So I would be powerless?” I ask, unconvinced.

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