Page 86 of The Shadow Heir

“It’ll weaken him,” he said to her. “I need you to do this. I’ll destroy the door behind you, buy you a little time.”

Alba coughed, started to say something, then nodded and pulled Ivy and me down the hallway with her. I jerked out of her grip and turned to Cas.

I wasn’t leaving like this.

“You have to go now,” he said, his voice deep and strained, as if he was holding back words he wouldn’t let himself say.

“I know what happened to all the other heirs,” I said, my voice coming out lower and thicker than I’d intended.

Alba rubbed her hands together impatiently, but Cas’s eyes remained fixed on me. “Go,” he said to his sister. “Find Eudoria and Samuel. I will bring Zara. First, I need to heal her.”

I didn’t miss Alba’s overexaggerated nod before she and Ivy darted down the hall.

Cas took a step toward me and every muscle in my body sensed his nearness. “You’re afraid your father will—”

“I’m not afraid of him.” He cut through my words.

I blinked. “You’re not? But won’t he…?”

Cas stepped forward, and my only recourse was to press my back to the wall. “I’m not afraid of him, Zara. I’m afraid that the light I’ve come to see by will go out, and I will be left alone in the dark.”

“What are you talk—”

“You, little spark.” He pushed my chin with his thumb until I met his gaze. “You.”

My lips parted, and I stared up at him. For two long seconds, he didn’t move.

Like I had when I’d jumped through that door, I was falling, falling, and as far as I knew, there were rocks below that would end my fall so I’d never get up again.

I shook my head. “I’m not a spark. I’m not a candle. I’m not some beacon of light.”

His mouth went slack as if I had slapped him. “Zara,” he said, his voice almost pleading, “you are the stars. Constant, fixed, and ever burning. It is by your light that I see, into your light that I am inescapably drawn. Would that I could call you down from heaven to fall on me and consume me with your light. But I am born of darkness and have no power to command the stars.”

I was so startled by his speech that all I could do was blink at him, then his lips pressed into mine, and my body melted back against the wall.

I had a vague awareness of pain in my abdomen, of his hand against mine—moving my fingers away from the wound. But my entire being was lost in his kiss.

Falling didn’t describe this. I was soaring.

Warmth spread out from my stomach, blazing up until my cheeks burned and my fingertips tingled.

He removed his hand from my wound, the pain now entirely gone, and slid his fingers behind my back. I touched the place where the wound had been, and my fingers only met smooth skin.

“Thank you,” I murmured against his cheek, not ready for him to back away.

He tipped his forehead against the wall beside my head, his hair partially blocking his expression.

I reached up and raked the hair away from his face with my bloodstained fingers.

His mouth curled into a grin. “Is this your way of saying you do not hate me, Valencia?” He playfully caught my hand in his, and I sucked in a breath.

“Your hand!”

It was as black as the stone behind me.

He turned away, tucking one dark hand behind his head and fisting it in his hair. “This is my father’s way of ensuring his heirs follow his commands, of seeing who can be worthy to take hisplace. So far, none have measured up.” He whirled back around, eyes blazing. “Not one of my sixty older brothers and sisters.”

My eyes slowly closed and opened again. “Sixty?”

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