Page 9 of A Petal in the Crown

Thump…

A pause, far too long.

Thump…

Froth dribbled from Emma’s mouth along with another pause of her heart.

They were out of time. Vomit threatened to erupt from Erik’s stomach, his lungs stiffening as if refusing to inhale. Understanding crashed over him.

He was Gray’s second in command, a position he’d never wanted, but one he had agreed to, all the same. He’d made a vow to Gray, to this kingdom. He couldn’t allow their mission to fail because of a shred of hope that Gray and Lea would find a way back. Alaric had to be defeated. And there was no more time to waste.

“Do it,” Erik said, the words tiny razor blades slicing the muscles of his throat as he forced them out. His body felt heavy as he knelt next to his fallen brother, and with a shaking hand and a reverence he hoped Gray would feel beyond the veil, Erik slowly and gently closed Gray’s eyes.

The pain was unspeakable, but he shoved down the guilt surging through his chest and wrapping around his heart. At least, he tried. But it felt like nothing other than a betrayal.

He was giving up on his family. His oldest friend. But he couldn’t live with himself if Emma died, too. It would be a useless loss. A waste of life. Because if Emma was gone, so were Lea and Gray. He had given them time.

And theyhad failed.

Thomas didn’t waste a single second, grabbing the petal and shoving it between Emma’s lips. Erik watched intently, hoping that seeing the friend hedidsave would smooth the raw edges of his pain. He turned, but stopped suddenly. A cry left his throat as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the abrupt clenching of Gray’s jaw, the sudden gasp of air that caused his chest to rise.

A chest that was healing so rapidly, it almost looked as if it had never been injured at all. There was no evidence of a fatal wound except for the blood coating his torso, the tattered tunic falling off of his shoulders, and the brutal, jagged scar where the mate bond had once been.

Erik surged forward, attempting to move Lea so that Gray could sit, but his friend’s arms wrapped around her tightly as a growl of primal rage rumbled from his throat. His eyes slowly opened, allowing tears to spill down his cheeks as he sat and then stood, holding onto Lea so tightly Erik wondered how she could even breathe. But…

The color drained from his face, and his joy evaporated as quickly as it had appeared at seeing his friend come back to life. While Gray’s skin was flushed with blood, and his injuries had healed, Lea was ashen, her eyes closed and her chest still—so still, he knew without a doubt there was no hint of life within her body.

A series of coughs and a gasp sounded from behind Erik, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from his friend.

“You’re okay,” Thomas breathed, but his voice was shaky with sorrow and tears. “You’re okay,” he repeated.

The rustle of grass told Erik that Emma had sat up. That she had survived, but his eyes remained locked on his queen. On his king, who was holding onto his dead mate as if she were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Do you see her?” Gray rasped, his eyes locked on Emma, his voice shuddering with a pain so severe, Erik wondered if it would kill him all over again.

“See who?” Emma coughed, her voice weak.

Erik felt a stab of despair as he turned around. Emma’s eyes scanned the hill, her brows creased in confusion. She didn’t realize what Gray was asking. Didn’t know what had transpired while she’d been halfway between worlds.

And if she didn’t know who Gray was speaking of, then it looked like Gray had his answer. Gray had returned, but Lea had not followed him.

Gray’s eyes darkened as the shadows of the night pulsed with a terrifying might.

Gods save us all,Erik thought, dropping to his knees.

Lea was gone.

Chapter 7

Lea

Lea felt with painful clarity the moment Emma ate the moonflower. Something snapped inside her, throwing her backward into the gently swaying grass. She scrambled to her feet, but for the first time since she died, she felt wholly untethered. Her feet touched the ground, but there was no weight to her body. She breathed in and out, but didn’t feel the rush of oxygen through her lungs.

Instantly, she felt different—she no longer needed to swallow or blink, though she continued to do those basic movements out of habit. She had no heartbeat, no whoosh of blood in her veins. Only the crackling of fire still burning through every inch of her body.

A fire she knew with absolute certainty she would never be able to quell. Never be able to contain. From the moment she’d fully broken through the floor in her chest, she’d known it.

She was wrath. She was vengeance.

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