Page 91 of Barely Breathing

Astrid comes to my side and begins peeling back the bandage on my arm to look at the damage. Her fingers trace the bite’s edges, and I see recognition flash in her eyes. She glances at Costin, and some unspoken knowledge passes between them. They both know what a werewolf bite means. She presses her hands down over the wound and I feel her magic flowing into me to stop the bleeding, but there’s a hesitation in the way her magic moves, like she senses something different about this wound. Like she knows what fate is coming, what choice it will force.

Through my pain-hazed vision, I want to beg them not to do it, to remind them of my wishes, but the words won’t come.

“That Alpha creature bit her,” Paul explains, holding Diana back. His voice shakes, not just from supernatural travel but from the weight ofeverything they’ve endured. He looks at his daughter with the amulet around her neck. I think he knows that she can never go back to being just a normal little girl. “Before the amulet?—”

“Who is that speaking?” Astrid asks Costin, sounding a little annoyed to be interrupted by a mortal. She doesn’t turn around.

“Paul,” Costin answers. Then, as if to answer her earlier question, he adds, “There was no time to send for you. I sensed Elizabeth’s presence near the old bank. When I felt her pull on our sire bond...” He looks at me. “I led my guards to them. We barely made it in time.”

Astrid forces her attention back to the immediate crisis. Her hands move as if desperately trying to heal my wound. I can feel her magic is failing.

“Thane did this?” Her voice carries deadly promise. “I’ll tear that flea-ridden bastard apart with my bare?—”

“He’s already dead,” Costin interjects flatly. “One problem at a time.”

Another convulsion hits me. I try to bite back my scream but fail. The sound echoes off stone walls.

“Tamara!” Diana cries in fright.

Astrid’s attention snaps to Diana, focusing on the amulet. Her expression shifts from shock to understanding. “Of course. Draakmar found his perfect vessel.”

I grab Astrid’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Astrid tries to dismiss, her hands working frantically despite her controlled tone. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from her probably in my entire life. “Costin, I need mandrake root, willow bark, yarrow?—”

“No, thank you for raising me,” I try to explain through the pain. “Thank you for being my mom.” The words feel strange, given how we normally communicate, but that makes it no less true. I can feel the end coming. I need to tell her how I feel, at least once.

“Stop acting like this is the end,” Astrid snaps, but there’s something different in her voice. It’s not just her usual stern tone, but real fear. For once, she can’t manage this away or control the solution to the problem. She presses her lips tightly, choking back whatever emotion threatens to break through. “Costin, do you have Dracaena resin, fae tears, moonlit dew, unicorn horn, silver filings, anything to stop the progression?”

Costin becomes a blur, leaving and returning several times to give Astrid jars and vials. She begins mixing items in her hand and rubbing them against me in hurried desperation. I don’t know how long they work to fix me, but nothing seems to help.

Pain rips through me. The wolf venom burns hotter, trying to change me.

Astrid shakes her head dumping a jar of powder on my arm in a last ditch effort. She shakes her head and slowly stands.

“What are you doing?” Costin demands. “Help her!”

“It’s not working,” Astrid answers, grabbing his arm to make him look at her. “If it was just the wolf venom, maybe we could stop it, but the ritual damaged something inside her. Nothing we have is working. Without the amulet, she has no protection. The residual magic from the ritual is tearing her apart. She’s dying.”

“She can have the amulet,” Diana offers, tears in her voice. “Don’t let her die.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Astrid’s tone is firm, just like I remember it. “No one must ever wear that but you. Don’t take it off or bad things will happen.”

I want to tell her not to scare the child.

“Tamara.” Costin kneels beside me, grabbing my hand.

“We should get her out of here. No child should see this.” Astrid moves to examine Paul’s wounds. “You both need healing.”

“I won’t leave Tamara,” Diana protests.

“You must.” Astrid’s tone allows no argument. “Your father needs care, and you’re exhausted from channeling dragon magic.”

“Tamara,” Paul says, but he doesn’t finish whatever he’s thinking.

Astrid turns to Costin, her voice dropping. “The sun rises soon. How long does she have?”

“Hours? Minutes?” Costin sounds lost.

---