Page 132 of Mistress of Lies

“Make it burn through,” she whispered. “Make it burn through the blood and the power and then it will die.”

Nodding, he sank to his knees, pressing his hands against the cobblestones. He focused on the power that flowed through him, trying to parse out what was his and what was the fire—fueled by the blood of others and Isaac’s delusions. Shan stood behind him, running her fingers through his hair and murmuring words of comfort.

He let it out.

The fire rushed from his hands in a shining sheet of power, sweeping across the ground. It burned so bright and beautiful, swirling and shimmering and dancing. But as certain as the dawn it passed, and he slumped backwards into Shan’s arms, empty and boneless.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

The last thing he saw was her face, tears in her eyes and the early morning sun a halo against her hair. Her fingers brushed his skin, her lips forming words he didn’t quite catch, and then he knew no more.

Chapter Forty-Six

Samuel

Samuel didn’t know what time it was. Hells, he didn’t know what day it was. All he knew was that the sun was shining brightly in his eyes and his entire body hurt. It was an ache deep in his bones, unlike anything he had ever known, and he groaned.

“Get Shan,” someone said sharply—Anton?—and then he felt the bed sink under the sudden weight. Anton leaned over him, blocking the brightness of the sun and coming into focus. “Hey, Samuel.”

“When is it?” he asked, the question mostly nonsensical, but Anton nodded all the same.

“You’ve been out for a week,” Anton said. “And it’s mid-afternoon. You’ve just missed lunch.”

Samuel licked his lips, realizing that his mouth was terribly dry. A week? Pushing himself up on his elbows, he nearly collapsed under his own weakness, but Anton caught him, rearranging the pillows with one hand so that he could settle into a sitting position.

“What happened?” he rasped out, and Anton looked away.

“We should probably let Shan answer that,” he said, moving away to fetch some water. “You gave us all quite a scare. But she’ll be here shortly; we’ve been taking shifts looking after you.”

He pressed the glass to Samuel’s lips, and he gratefully sipped at the cool liquid. Anton held the glass firmly, only giving him tiny sips, and Samuel chased every drop. “Easy now,” Anton chided. “You’ve been on a diet of just broth. Don’t rush yourself.”

“I didn’t realize you were a nurse,” Samuel muttered, and Anton laughed.

“I have many hidden depths, you know,” he said, placing the glass to the side. “But, no, we just hired one. And his instructions were very strict. Oh, there she is.”

Samuel glanced up to see Shan standing in the doorway, relief on her face as she took him in. He felt so terribly exposed, lying in bed with nothing more than a nightshirt while she stood there in one of her lovely day dresses, her hair neatly pulled back in a braid, fresh-faced and gorgeous.

He ran his hand across his jaw, wincing at the feel of a scruffy beard against his fingers. Hells, he must look a mess.

But Shan didn’t say anything, only crossed the room, shoving her brother aside so that she could take his place on the bed. “You’re awake.”

“I am,” he said, dumbly, as she ran her hand over his face, turning him this way and that, as if afraid that he was some kind of illusion. “I hear it’s been a few days.”

“You had us worried,” she admitted, sitting back and placing her hands demurely in her lap. The door softly closed behind her, and he looked up to see that Anton had left them alone. Behind a closed door with no chaperone. Well, he supposed that he had been an invalid in her guest room for nearly a week, and propriety was long gone between them anyway.

“What happened, Shan?”

“What do you remember?” she countered, looking up at him with a question in her eyes.

He leaned his head back against the pillows. It was all a blur. Isaac. The betrayal. Pain like nothing he had never known.

Fire.

Power.

Shan.

An overwhelming sense of emotion that felt too raw to be real.

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