Page 14 of Elven Throne

They both knew what Zida was sacrificing to keep Shade whole in the face of this enemy attack.

Still, Rebecca crept closer.

The old woman tilted her head, her stare on Rebecca heavy and ominous, unlike anything Rebecca had felt from anyone else before. “You might have another thirty seconds left, kid.”

“And you might have another thirty years.”

“Huh. I’m too old for mights and maybes, elf. I’ve seen enough of two worlds to last a dozen generations. Too many lifetimes for me, if I’m being shamelessly honest. And why the hell not, at this point?

“Out of the whole damn thing, this fucking factory and everyone in it are the closest thing I’ve found to home. If it takes aShi’il Taaríthto keep those fuckers from getting their grubby webbed fingers on any of it, so be it.”

Shi’il Taaríth… Xaharí fordyingstar.

That was pretty fucking accurate for what the daraku had become, and only now did Rebecca fully understand the phrase she’d heard tossed around in her younger years. A concept she could only have imagined until now.

Zida’s wheezing cackle in a voice that wasn’t completely hers, from a mouth that never opened, filled the heart of the storm. “Guess I got a little too big for my britches, huh? Waited too long to pull out the end-all, be-all. Let me tell you something. Fifty years ago, this would’ve been glorious.”

The smile flickering across Rebecca’s lips surprised her. “It’s still fucking glorious. Trust me.”

“Well, I suppose I better. You’re putting a lot more trust in me than I can hold for the two of us, I can tell you that right now.”

“You’re doing great.” Rebecca took the final step toward the healer until they stood close enough to touch, which was exactly what she meant to do, reaching slowly toward the old woman’s shoulders with both hands. “We’re still here.”

“Not for much longer…” Zida’s blazing all-white eyes bored into Rebecca’s, almost too bright to look at directly. “Don’t start lying to me now, kid. I’m too old for that shit, but I can still see those lies written all over your face.”

“I’m surprised you can see anything right now.”

A wary snort of wry amusement escaped the old woman’s motionless mouth.

No matter how much this process had changed her, no matter how much the old daraku believed she was at the end, this was still Zida, through and through.

Which meant they still had a chance.

Before Rebecca could fully settle her hands onto the woman’s shoulders, another shrieking howl split through the eerily calm heart of the storm, followed instantly by a bellowing rumble of warning somewhere beyond this peaceful center.

Asphalt cracked and splintered beneath the growing pressure. A blaze of crackling white bolts erupted all along the center’s spinning outer ring, zapping chaotically in every direction and obliterating whatever they touched.

Rebecca couldn’t see any of it, but she knew it was happening.

The growing instability was worse than ever now, especially when they could hear it within the rare haven Zida’s unleashed power had created for her at its very heart.

For the first time, a real expression revealed itself on Zida’s otherworldly face, her hairless brows drawing together in concern, her lips turning down at the corners of her mouth. “You should’ve gotten out, Knox.”

The light blazing from within her body brightened and intensified, bringing with it the certainty that this was the end.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you for getting out,” Zida added. Only now did the healer truly sound as exhausted and spent as she must have been. “Don’t blame you for showing up at the last second, either. You’ve made a hell of a habit out of that.”

Rebecca smirked and offered a blatant shrug as she held Zida’s blinding gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Healer. I showed up right on time.”

The woman’s next laugh was hardly a laugh at all—dark and scratchy, rippling with thousands of dissonant notes all at once while the last of her self-control seeped out of her and her body trembled with the final remnants of what little energy and will she still had. “Do something for me, yeah? Tell that old goat of giveldi—”

“I’m your Roth-Da’al, Zida,” Rebecca interrupted. “Not the fucking messenger.”

There was so very little time left, Rebecca had to actnow.

She leaned closer and muttered, “Tell him your own damn self.”

Then she clapped both hands down onto Zida’s shoulders and drew the woman roughly toward her before wrapping the healer in a tight, excruciating embrace.

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