Page 86 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

“What do you mean?”

She frowns. “White knight doesn’t look good on you. It’s. . .” She snorts. “Frankly, it’s both disconcerting and ridiculous.”

“Noted.”

“You can’t really care about that girl.”

“Why?” I turn to face her. “Because I didn’t curl up and die when you didn’t care for me?”

“You never cared for me either,” she says.

“It’s a good thing,” I say. “If I had, you’d have shattered me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“She’s not like you,” I say. “She’s not like any of you.”

“Gustav grabbed Gabe’s arm when you first arrived, and he saw her then. He says she shines.” Katerina doesn’t look very pleased when she admits it. I’m surprised his powers worked well enough for him to see that, but perhaps it’s because I only took his access to the elements.

“She does,” I say. “But it’s not just her soul. It’s her mind. Her fearlessness. Her willingness to sacrifice. She’s brave, brilliant, and kind. It’s a rare combination.”

“You don’t deserve her at all,” Katerina says.

I can’t argue, but I realize that she’s distracting me. She came over to talk, at least in part, so I wouldn’t obsess over Isabel moving farther and farther away.

“What do you think will happen—” But before I can even finish the question, I black out.

At first, just like the other times, nothing happens. An absence of sensation or consciousness. But then pain blossoms, starting in my head, right behind my forehead, where I can usually feel all my magic. It’s like a strike of lightning has burned its way through to my brain, and it radiates outward from there.

Sharp, repeating strikes come faster, harder, and more intensely as they roll through me. I would scream if I had a voice. I would arch and bow if I had a back. But I’m nothing—just darkness, misery, and throbbing pain.

Until I wonder what’s happening to Izzy.

I’ve struggled with pain for the better part of my life. When I was young, I was beaten often by my own father. Then I was nearly killed on several occasions by men who hated or mocked him. Later, I was broken half-to-death by those who stole from us. And finally, I was beaten, attacked, and battered by a plethora of enemies. Many of them are standing beside me now, as I convulse on the ground, more than likely.

But the thought of her pain beinganythinglike this allows me to step away from it. Once I’m outside of the suffering, once I stop fretting about it, I can sense what’s happening to my soul—and then I can follow that link tohers.

Her bright, shining, pulsating avalanche of light, beauty, and peace.

She’swrithing.

Her soul, where it’s bound to mine, is unraveling. Bits of light and magic are fraying and exploding and then dissipating until they’regone.

Even without a voice, without a body, I cry out then, misery ricocheting away and outward, and I follow the threads back to myself, where I can finally sense it. . .my own magic. My own soul. My central being. I dig deep, and I tunnel out all my own power, and I shove it down the line, healing the shards of Izzy as they unravel, undoing myself to try and keep her intact.

There’s a giant explosion of light and power and energy, and then nothing but the deepest darkest black I could never have imagined.

Chapter23

Izzy

It’s happening again, just like before.

I’m awake, and I’m not awake. I have a body, and I don’t. When I glance down at the split-rail fence in front of me, I can tell it’s substantial. But when I press my hand against it, my hand slides right through.

I’m here.

And I’m not here.

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