Page 96 of Of Song and Scepter
Because of her, Soren lies in a pool of blood. I should end her. For him. For my ten-year-old self and the life she robbed from me. Revenge is sweet; avenge is sweeter still.
“What are you waiting for, death-dealer? Quickly now.”
My hand twitches around the handle, readying for the final push. I lift her jaw further, exposing her lymph. Swift and easy.As easy as sliding my knife across my target’s throat, the day I made my first kill.
My stomach twists into a hard knot, and my anger snuffs out. My fingers slacken. My make-shift club clatters to the floor.
I won’t do it.
Odissa trained me to be a killer. She cultivated me into her personal weapon, void of emotion, blind to the beauty of the world. If I kill her now, I’m no better than the monster she created me to be.
She stares up at me, her mouth popping open in surprise. I kick the scepter away from both of us, discarding it like a poison snakefish.
I lean in until our ragged breaths mix. I grip the glowing pendant around her neck and yank. The chain snaps. Its magical glow dims. I throw it away, and the metal clatters across the floor.
I lean close so Odissa can hear every word, and I look her in the eye. “If I kill you, that’d be too easy for you. Too quick.” I cup her face. “Who am I to deprive the Eater of Souls from her midnight snack?”
She twists and snaps her teeth. With my knife, I cut a strip of cloth from my skirt, and then I bind her hands and ankles.
Her eyelids flutter shut, and she slouches against the wall. “I should have killed you in the Drink,” she wheezes.
The threat contained, my pain rears up and swallows me. I buckle at the knees, landing on all fours with a jolt. My arms wobble, burning as they support my weight.
Soren.
My elbow bends. My hand inches forward. One knee follows. My wounded leg drags behind me, careful to avoid knocking the knife deeper.
Soren.
He cannot be dead. The pain I feel now is nothing to the loss of him. That, I will not survive.
Slowly, I make my way to him, hauling my broken body onto his chest. His ribs expand and collapse in rhythm—shaky, but breathing.
“Soren.”
He groans, and his head tips toward me. He opens one eye. With bloody fingers, he digs into his pocket, producing the opal ring. “Enna,” he whispers. “You never answered my question.”
When the emotion rushes in, I do not push it away. I do not shove it deep. I unlock the cage and let it drown me alive. For if this is what love feels like, I never want to surface again.
I cup his cheek, smudging the splatter of blood away. My chest brims with heat, burning with the strength of my joy to see him alive. Breathing. Making shit jokes.
“My heart is yours, pretty prince,” I say, smiling. A fat tear rolls down my nose and splashes onto his face. “Forever.”
He slides the ring on my finger, a perfect fit.
Chapter sixty-two
Enna
The captain arrives withreinforcements, whisking into the vault in a clatter of whitesteel armor. Soren and I lie together in a heap on the floor, barely moving.
I turn my head toward the door and squint, a dull ringing in my ear. Weapons lie scattered. Odissa slouches against the wall where I left her, covered in blood. She screeches as the captain walks past, and she flails against her bindings, kicking her feet.
Nara’s striped face blurs above me as she kneels, checking my pulse. She barks an order at her men. Feet shuffle.
“About time you got here, Captain,” Soren wheezes.
“You’re a shit comedian, Your Highness.”
