Page 122 of The Sorrow of Shadows

“I’m going to save you, okay?” Determination set in her eyes, she reaches to remove the dagger from his chest. Since he was considerably taller than Ophelia, it didn’t hit him directly in the heart, but rather just below.

I notice a familiar scent surrounding the blade, and my shadows dart out and halt her hand before she can touch the handle. “Ophelia, stop.”

“Breyla, I only have minutes before he bleeds out. I have to act now.”

My heart sinks at the words I utter next, “No, you have minutes to say goodbye. That blade is laced with the same poison that claimed Nameah. I’m so sorry.”

Her beautiful gray eyes fill with tears as she turns back to Layne. She cradles his head between her hands and sobs.

“You promised me a grand adventure, brother,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face full force. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“You’ll still go on a grand adventure, O. You’ll just have to do it without me,” he chokes again, blood spilling from the corner of his lips.

“I love you, Layne. How am I supposed to do this without you?”

He shifts his eyes behind her until they land on me, then moves to Elijah’s next. I understand his unspoken words and nod at him, tears filling my eyes. “I love you, too, little sister. Somuch.” He coughs again, more blood spilling from his lips and covering Ophelia’s face in small splatters.

“No no no,” she cries, and I swear I can hear her heart break in her chest. She leans down until her forehead rests against his.

In the softest whisper, Layne’s final words to her are, “I’ll be waiting for you in Amara.”

Sobs wrack her tiny body as he takes his final, pained breaths. When she pulls back, I see vacant blue eyes staring at the ceiling. Ophelia closes his eyelids and lays one last kiss on his brow. A pained wail crawls out of her shaking body. It’s a sound I’ve never heard at such intensity before.

Elijah reaches for her hand as she passes, but she pulls it out of his grasp and continues moving past him. She rounds the table and stops in front of her father, still immobilized by Aurelius's power.

“Consider this your final lesson in life, Father.” She grips him by the throat, thin fingers digging into the flesh below his jaw and drawing blood. “You never should have underestimated me,” she says as a black glow wraps around her fingers.

It’s reminiscent of the glow her hands take when she heals, but this is black where her healing is white. The black aura spreads down her arms and covers her body in an ethereal, dark glow. Her raven strands lift and float around her, her eyes emanating the same black aura.

Lord Seamus gasps as if struggling for air. His skin begins to lose color and whither as if he’s aging in front of our eyes. The color leeches from his hair next and the muscles on his body sag until his body goes completely limp in her grasp.

A heavy thud sounds as Ophelia drops her father’s dead body to the floor. When she turns to me, the dark has receded, but she’s still glowing. I’m not sure if it’s just me or if she somehow looks healthier. Younger even, perhaps. Something snapped in her and released a new power. Or had she always had this ability?

Many of the faces in the room look at her in horror, but she doesn’t even notice them. She makes her way back to the other side of the table, everyone giving her a wide berth. She reaches Elijah, and he stares at her in awe.

“My dark goddess,” he whispers reverently.

She stares into his eyes, her own grays glowing as she takes him in. “Not a goddess, but still yours.”

Elijah pulls her into his chest, wrapping an arm around her lower back to hold her close. She relaxes into his grip and goes limp in his arms. The overwhelming use of a new power drags her to sleep.

“So, Lord Seamus and Prince Ayden were behind all the recent deaths? Even the King’s?” Lord Jaeson questions.

I nod. “I believe so, yes. I?—”

“No,” my mother’s voice echoes into the room.

“Mother?” I turn a questioning look to her.

“At the risk of causing more death, I need to set the record straight,” she says as she stands and clears her throat.

Lord Craylor steps up to her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. He hands her a wine goblet and whispers something in her ear. She nods and takes a sip of the wine before continuing. “The only one responsible for the king’s death...is me.”

Chaos erupts around me as a chorus of voices ring out, all indecipherable in the cacophony that fills the room. The guards look to me for direction, but I have nothing to give them.

I stare at the female who birthed me and try to piece together what she just said.She killed Father?How could that be possible?

I move toward her, desperate for her to say she’s lying, that she had nothing to do with his death. Before I can ask any of my questions, she drops to the floor.

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