Page 63 of The Eighth Isle

It was Syra, possibly not even fifty feet away from me.

I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the hallway. So many instincts fired up inside me at the same time, but the one thing that mattered the most was that she did not hear me. That she did not know I was there. Grey would be with her, I had no doubt about it, so going back or moving away in the other direction wasn’t possible. I had to get closer instead, silently, just to see where she was and wherehewas. Just to see that he was okay, at least.

A couple of minutes passed, and when I heard no footsteps, and her magic remained where it was, I convinced myself to move forward. Slowly. Silently—I was barefoot anyway, so it wasn’t hard. My hands were shaking, so I fisted them tightly and didn’t let the fear get in my way.

A moment later, I found myself in the same narrow corridor I’d been in that morning when I first came here, with the windowat the end, and the half-hidden doorway to the right, the one that had led me to Grey.

Syra’s magic was coming from that same room right now.

Again, I stopped and I breathed and I held onto the cold wall for support. No idea what to expect and no plan of action when I got there, but I still moved forward. I still put one foot in front of the other and I went all the way to the end, and I slowly leaned my head to see inside.

Torches lined the walls, orange flames dancing on them. Blue lights, different from the ones in the Star Reader—these like overgrown fireflies—hovered around a large table I hadn’t even noticed the first time I was here. Magic buzzed on the surface of it—red magic moving around like someone was throwing laser beams on it from afar.

But it was Syra who was guiding those beams with her hands as she stood near the table, her back turned to me—and Valentine was right by her side, watching whatever she was doing.

In the middle of the room, right there on the floor in front of those two throne-like chairs, was Grey, lying on his stomach, his back covered in blood, some glistening still under the flames, most dry.

He was sprawled on the floor, not moving a single inch, and his head was turned to the other side so I couldn’t see his face at all.

My heart fell and fell, but it wasn’t just fear that propelled me forward this time. It was anger as well. Raw anger, as bright as the fire burning on those torches, and before I knew it, I was moving. I was walking into the room, reaching out my shaking hands for Grey.

“Good evening, lovely. Sleep well?”

I stopped when I was still a couple of steps away from him, too stunned by the visual to even form a proper thought yet.

But when I looked at them again, I found Valentine had turned toward me, hip resting on that table burning with red magic, and Syra still waving her hands over it.

Valentine was looking right at me, and not a hint ofanythingwas anywhere on his face. Nothing to suggest that he was bluffing or playing games, or even cared that I was still alive—nothingat all.

To think of all those things he said to me…

Not that I believed him, but still.

“You must rest as much as you can, Fall. Pregnancy takes a toll on a woman’s body. Regardless of what the world today is made to believe—just because women don’t complain and make it look easy to create a life doesn’t mean it is. Right?” Throwing her hair back, Syra turned to look at me over her shoulder. “And don’t look so shocked, either—your body doesn’t like shock very much.”

I shook my head, words coming back to me slowly, my eyes moving back to Grey, bleeding, on the floor.

“What have you done to him?” I whispered, and I prayed with all my heart that my legs carried me all the way to him again.

Syra turned. “Nothing.”

Nothing.

“Is he…is he d—” I couldn’t even say it. God, my mind was so damn chaotic I couldn’t eventhinkit.

“Dead?” The siren laughed. “Don’t be silly. Ican’tkill him, remember? And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I love him.”

I looked up at her then, relieved and disgusted and a million things at once. “Isthishow you love?” Couldn’t she see him there, still bleeding,notmoving? Was this what she did to the people she claimed to love?

Her left eye twitched, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest as she slowly made her way to me. Valentine remained by the table as he watched, unbothered. Even Shadow wassitting at the edge with him—I just hadn’t noticed from all that red light.

“He wouldn’t stop. I have work to do. I can’t keep watching out for his magic,” Syra told me. “I just put him to sleep so he can rest.” She stopped over Grey’s head and looked down at him.

Looked down at him and flinched, like she was just noticing the blood on his back for the first time.

I don’t know what did it, what was the last straw, but my magicburstout of me at the same time from every inch of my body. Probably all those emotions balled up inside of me, and I couldn’t contain them any longer. I couldn’t handle them, and just like Valentine said in his book about the Basics of Magic, magic reacted to them the most.

So, now it was in the room, spreading through every inch, and I didn’t even try to stop it or slow it down. I didn’t even try to see where it hit or how it would affect Grey—I just let it all go.

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