Page 143 of Once the Skies Fade

What if the poison numbed her senses so much not even our stars-fated bond could reach her?

No. I refused to accept that.

She knew. She had to know. She had to come back to me.

Lowering my hands, I gripped hers in mine and squeezed gently. Her shadows tickled my palms, and I peered down to see them slipping between my fingers, wrapping around our hands like an ancient ceremony binding us to one another.

Through weary eyes, I studied her face again, but she remained torturously still. I rested my forehead against hers and pressed my eyes closed.

“Don’t worry, Killer,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Slipping my arms beneath her legs and shoulders, I lifted her up and stood, prepared to argue with anyone who tried to stop me. I turned. Everyone simply stared at us, their mouths agape, some hidden behind splayed fingers, others displayed like prized fish on a tavern wall. Isa’s hand hovered in the air, pointing at me, as if the moment I’d kissed Calla had frozen her in mid-scolding.

“I’m taking her to the healers,” I declared, daring any of them to argue.

They didn’t, but behind Isa, Graham shifted, the first to move. Anger flashed in his eyes under bitter brows, while his lips twisted into a sneer, but the expression dissolved so quickly—settling into one of disappointed acceptance—that I half-wondered if I’d imagined his rage. Before he could say anything, though, Isa rasped out, “You’re…”

I waited half a breath for her to say it, but when she didn’t, I did it for her.

“Mates. Yes.”

“But…”

“How…”

“What…”

Their hushed voices all chimed in at once with unfinished questions, but I ignored them all, lifting my chin and pivoting toward the door. Korben slid in front of it to block my way.

“Being mates doesn’t mean you win,” he taunted.

“And winning won’t be worth shit if she fucking dies. Move.”

He refused but dared to lean toward me. “Who would want to marry a shadow bitch anyway?”

If only I had my own set of shadows, I’d have had them gut the male right where he stood.

Cackling to himself, he threw his head back and stepped out of my way, directly into the path of Isa’s dagger. It struck him hard below the collar bone, burying deep into his chest. He looked down, perplexed, his hands floating up to the handle sticking out of him as if he didn’t quite believe it was there.

“Go!” Isa shouted, running up beside me to open the door. “Get her to the infirmary. Now!”

I didn’t need her to shove me out of the room, but she did all the same.

The journey down to the healers took far longer than I wanted, and I nearly slid onto my ass several times trying to round the stairs too quickly. By the time I reached the lower level, my lungs heaved, my legs burned, and my arms and head throbbed, but I’d have suffered far more than this to heal Calla.

Jocelyn waited at the door before I’d even turned the corner.

“I can’t believe they poisoned her,” she said. I shot her a confused look. “You know staff gossip. Bring her inside.”

I tried to catch my breath as I laid Calla gently on the bed that had been mine.

Jocelyn checked her pulse, her eyes, her breathing, not looking at me as she asked, “How long ago was she given the antidote?”

“She wasn’t,” I choked out, guilt flooding my chest.

The healer’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“There wasn’t any left,” I said. “But you have some here. Get it for her.”

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