Page 132 of The Throne's Undoing

He coughed, his entire body shaking with the motion and pulling taut against the restraints.

Myra pressed a light hand atop his chest. "Don't speak," she whispered, her forehead creasing in concern. "It'll only make it worse."

He shook his head. "No. Please, just"--more coughing--"please end this."

Myra bit her lip. "You don't understand. If I help them..."

His fingers squeezed around her wrist. "Endthis," he begged.

The hopeless gaze in Rian's eyes pierced Myra's heart. The young king looked away from her, and she followed his gaze toward Dr. Thorne's table.

A scalpel lay among the various instruments.

Myra looked back at him. "I I can't. I--" Her voice trembled as water rimmed her bottom lash line.

Death may have been a better end than being turned into one of those creatures, but they were supposed to get out of here.Alive.

Laurince promised. He gave his word.

But what if they couldn't?

"Please," Rian repeated, calling her attention back to him. "I do not want to be one of them."

The breath Myra took did anything but calm her trembling hands. She bit her bottom lip and glanced at the scalpel again, the razor-sharp edge shining in the flickering light of the torch.

Pure hopelessness and despair poured from Rian in droves. The sickening emotions wrapped around her hands, her throat, choking her.

She had never taken a life before. Would she even be able to?

Her entire body trembled at the thought.

Frustration seeped into the room, startling her.

Myra reached over and tightened the gag around Rian's mouth. He groaned and pleaded with her.

She brushed a light hand across his face and leaned down. "Keep faith. We're going to get out of here," Myra whispered. "I promise."

She removed her hand from the king's face. A thin layer of water coated his fear-stained eyes. He did not believe her, and Myra did not blame him.

She had made the same promises before and failed to fulfill them.

But she had to hold on to the hope that this would not be their end, even as Dr. Thorne reentered with the guard and spoke, his words threatening to destroy the hope Myra held onto.

"Be ready tomorrow. His mind is fragile. I can see him breaking."

Boots poundedoutside Myra's cell, the metal armor creaking with every movement.

Myra threw herself at the slot as the guard opened it and pushed her meal toward her.

"Soon," the familiar voice said, the repeated phrase grating against her bones, her very mind and threatening to break both apart.

Myra grabbed the edge of the slot before Laurince could close it and hissed, "It has to be tonight."

On the other side of the door, Laurince stilled. Apprehension spilled from him.

"What?" he spat. "Are you crazy? We're not prepared. We--"

"We do not have time to prepare," she quickly countered, voice urgent. "The king will not deal with any further delays. If you wish to save him, we must act now. He is weakening by the minute. I--I fear for his safety."

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