Page 56 of Petals for Deadly Power

The last thing she saw washim.

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Ciaran

Hisbloodlackedthewarmth of most beings, but right now, it was pure ice.

“West Cardinal,” he shouted when he landed next to Hope’s limp, stabbed, bleeding body. “This was meant to be a Healing ordeal, not a star-cursedresurrection.”

There was no time to dwell on the whys or why nots. He didn’t care why the Cardinal of his House wanted him to prove his worth this way. He didn’t care about ordeals, feathers, or the Fifth.

There was a dying woman—thewoman who was worth everything—for him to save. And hewouldfucking save her.

There was a dagger stuck deeply in her throat, her head shaking in spasms as the blood choked her. The other dagger was in her chest, proudly damaging her lung.

In normal circumstances, if he removed either of them, Hope would bleed to death. But the dual powers Ciaran owned weren’t ordinary, and he didn’t give a Cardinal-feathered shit if the West Cardinal didn’t approve of his methods to Heal Hope. He didn’t approve of the goddesses’ methods either.

His hands were ready, and her eyes . . . Hope’s eyes were glazed, half-open, half-gone.

“Hope, don’t leave,” he begged, his voice broken. “Don’t leave me.”

One hand atop each dagger, he inhaled sharply, and then, he moved. He closed his hands, Taking both daggers, making them disappear, and thank the darkest night, this time his panom magic worked.

Blood started pouring from both holes like unstoppable rivers, but with a flicker of his hands, blocks of shadows covered each injury, keeping the blood inside. He bent the shadows to his orders, two perfect patches to stop her hemorrhaging.

She wasn’t bleeding externally anymore, but she was hurt, damaged, wounded. Hope’s eyelids trembled weakly one last time before her eyes closed.

With glazed blood frosting his heart, Ciaran opened his hands again and started Healing. He moved his hands in circles, the palms facing the areas the blades had attacked. Dark green sparks floated from his skin to hers, the shadows in the holes absorbing his panom sparks like the sea welcomed salt, allowing his Healing sparks to reach deep inside her flesh where it was most needed.

Her chest hadn’t moved, she hadn’t breathed, since he had landed next to her. His hands Healed frantically, fueled by agony and worry. How long could a person survive without breathing? The perforated lung was his main priority.

“Just a bit longer,” he promised. “A bit longer, and then you’ll be good enough to breathe.”

Her head shook slightly, a barely distinguishable movement. Her eyelids fluttered, as if she tried to open her eyes but couldn’t.

“I already thought you dead in my arms once before,” Ciaran said, knowing at least a part of her was listening. He had to keep her on this side of the dark veil at all costs. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t let go, Hope.”

He just needed time—time and more dark green sparks than he had ever needed—her fragile body covered in them as he kept Healing, and the shadows kept redirecting his panom magic. His inner balance was tilted from so much Healing, but he didn’t mind the freezing sensation in his veins, on his skin. He still had a few minutes Healing at this pace, with this intensity, until the inner glacier reached his organs, and only then, would he die.

The bad thing was that Hope wouldn’t survive without breathing for so long. The good thing was that if she died because of him, because of his inability tosave her, then a freezing death would be deserved, and he would welcome it. A death next to the woman of his dreams.

He Healed, and spoke the most secret truths he owned, praying she was fighting to stay here, to listen, praying she didn’t let her body and mind lacking oxygen go.

“I waited centuries for you. Since Llunal first whispered of your existence to me, since the Cardinal made me swear on the Fifth I would not give up. They promised one day you would stop being only in my dreams and in the whispers of night. They swore you were real, you would be born, and we would meet.” Ciaran’s voice trembled as much as his hands. “I said it to you the first time I saw you, and I'll say it another thousand times. You were worth the wait. Hundreds of years were worth it to meet you. And I did not only get that, but I talked to you, and spent time with you, and saw you.Allof you. Your pain, your misery, your grief. Your strength, your courage, and perseverance. Your joy, your shyness, and your happiness. I seeyou, Hope. I see all of you and you can't die on me before I say the biggest truth to you. You can't.”

The world was as still as she was. His sparks and hands were the only moving things, the only things that mattered.

His vision blurred with icy tears; his eyes closed as he accepted his fate.

He would die Healing her, he would diewithher, his uneven scale freezing him from the inside out.

Hope’s sudden, loud gasp filled her lungs and his heart in equal measure. She was here, her black eyes glittering as she took deep breaths in, struggling to recover the much-needed air she had missed.

He Gave her oxygen, her lungs filling and emptying, recovering, her eyes widened, her exhales loud with relief. Her hand reached for his metallic one, and he stroked her shaky thumb.

He no doubt looked like a fucking mess. His usually smooth, shoulder-long, dark hair was wild, his blue eyes crying above her, shadows disorganized around him, twisting around her ankles and wrists as if they were desperate to bring her back from unconsciousness, dark green sparks still floating from his hand to her lung.

A red crystal feather appeared next to him, and he didn’t stop to look at it. He couldn’t take his eyes from hers.

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