Page 249 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

My head is spinning. I struggle to regain focus, faintly aware of Jarek lying beside me, before I can make out Lucretia’s face. She grins at me through a bloodstained smile before dismissing me altogether, stalking toward Sofie.

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Sofie

I nearly had him.

The exiled king of Islor would be dead if not for that creature—Lucretia—who appeared out of thin air to save him and the warrior, taking the brunt of my assault. She should be dead!

“What are you?” I hiss as she prowls toward me, not waiting for an answer before blasting her in the stomach with another bolt of fire.

She crumples to the ground, only to unfold a moment later.

I gasp.

She’s morphed into the spitting image of Elijah, save for her vertical irises. “Sofie, my love,” he purrs in that deep voice, slinking closer. “Did you enjoy my visit the other night?”

Her meaning dawns on me. “How dare you play such tricks!” I knew there was something different. “How dare you pretend to be him!”

“You should thank me. I gave you a gift. A parting gift, for you will never be with him like that again.” Her gaze cuts to my left, the only warning before I hear the spine-chilling grunt. Malachi’s fire cuts off.

“Noooo!” I shriek as the daaknar sinks its fangs into Malachi—Elijah’s!—neck, its barbed claws anchored deep in his chest.

I lash out with a whip of fire.

It releases him with a roar, swinging its furious red eyes on me.

Before it can lunge, I send it back to Azo’dem with a surge of fire, and then dive for my husband’s mangled body, dismissing the battle around us. “I did not see it freed from its cage.” But who released it? “This is why I hate these demons!”

Crimson pours from a ripped artery in Elijah’s throat where the beast tore out a chunk of flesh with its fangs. But the gaping hole in his chest is far more concerning, revealing lung tissue and rib bones that will take hours to mend.

My hands shake as I attempt to stem the blood flow. “Hold still and I will fix this.” Is there any way to fix this?

I reach for my affinities.

“No, my love.” His hand clamps over mine, and soft, brown eyes peer up at me.

My breath hitches. “Elijah? Is that you?”

“Yes. He has abandoned this ruined body. As will I momentarily.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. “No, you will not. I will heal you.”

“No.” He wheezes. “No more. I cannot bear what these hands have done.”

“It was not you. It was Malachi.”

A tear slips from the corner of his eye. “And I cannot bear what you have become in my name.”

I choke on a sob. “But—”

Sharp pain explodes under my ribs. I gasp as I look down to see Elijah’s hand slip from the hilt of the cutlass he just drove into my body.

“Three hundred years. No more, my love. Let us end this together. Let us have peace.”

“But—”

“Promise me. Promise me,” he growls through gritted teeth.

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