Page 65 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
“Orielle?” I get my feet under me, and Orielle doesn’t let go. So therehadbeen more to my freedom than a simple rumour about my parentage. I had thought so, but I also hadn’t ever considered that Orielle might have had the ability, or the courage, to bargain with the Dawn King.
“I could, I suppose, but I rather find I don’t feel like it,” the Dawn King says with a pleasant smile. “And why would I?”
He thinks he has won. I flex my fingers as feeling returns to them. I don’t know if it will work— the Dawn King is ancient, andhis magic equally so. But so was the Heart’s, and I had stopped that before. And the Dawn King was not at his full power.
I don’t even quite know how to do it, I just know that at both times I had wanted something badly enough to make it happen.
All I can do is try.
I take a deep breath, trying to remember that feeling in the dark chamber when faced with the Heart’s horrific beast. I look the Dawn King in the eye and take another deep breath before I spread my fingers wide and push my mind against the current of time in the room. It comes easier than it ever has, flowing out from me, and I am powerless to stop it. Control of it slips through my fingers. There is the faintest, swiftest moment of alarm in his face, and then everything begins to slow and the Dawn King is caught. I hang on to the thought that I cannot let him win. Cling to thoughts of Sila. Promise that I will leave here with her. I leave no room for doubt. If there is one person in this world I do not doubt, it is my terrifying and lovely nightmare of a Librarian.
All the sounds in the room, the screams, and the crying, the hum of the Dawn King’s magic, and Beryl’s footsteps as she crosses the marble floor, come together as one high pitched ringing. It rises higher until everything stills. Even Orielle behind me, caught in the moment.
The blue light of the snare holding Sila flickers.
Once.
Twice.
And then out.
Everything is plunged into darkness.
The Lightwarden screams.
Chapter 39
Lorel
I let goof the silence and the dark smothers me. I reach for Orielle in the dark, for where she had been behind me and fear grips my chest. I do not know if my lover will make much distinction between friend and foe. The screams start behind me, a horrific choir, each voice choked off one by one. Gasping and flailing. There is the sound of things— bodies— hitting the table, pushing chairs as they fall. Cutlery clattering to the floor.
“Orielle—” I stumble in the dark, reaching.
“Lorel—” Orielle’s hand finds mine, and then it’s slipping away.
I trip on something soft and warm. Edrian. I push myself away from him.
The shadows shift and they are solid, physical things as they come around me. They pull me back further, sliding across the floor. They shift and shape themselves like a creature hunched over its prize. There are the sounds of a scuffle. Whatever Sila is doing, she cannot make purchase on the Dawn King. Perhaps if I had held the silencing longer— but no, I can already feel therising fever under my skin. There is a very real risk I might lose consciousness.
“Enough,” says the Dawn King, sharp.
Orielle cries out as a sudden light flares. It sears at my eyes and forces me to turn my head away or risk being blinded. The light glances off Sila’s horrific visage, the shape of her where she crouches over me. It reflects off the blood and her long sharp teeth, illuminates her strange pale face, and glittering dark eyes. Reveals the remains of the body of Beryl, strewn across the floor where Sila had left her.
She shifts, her long talons clicking against the marble. Everything is still in the room. The King’s courtiers lie in various states over the table, blood soaking into the linen, dyeing it red. The Dawn King’s light shines in their dull, dead stares. There is only me, and Sila, Orielle, and the Dawn King.
As the intensity of the light fades, the King stands there, glowing faintly. Orielle is hiding her face in her free arm, grimacing against the light. Orielle’s wrist is caught in his hand, and twisted cruelly. She is powerless— the Dawn King is the one person Orielle’s own light and magic cannot work against.
I cry out to her, and Sila shifts, putting herself— or part of herself— between us. The Dawn King looks at Sila and for a long, quiet moment, nothing happens.
“Prisilla,” says the Dawn King. There is something ancient in his voice. A knowing that is older than I can fathom. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were as eager to die then as you are now.” He tips his chin up, looking between us. “Though it seems you have something to live for now. How interesting.”
“Spare me your thoughts, Usurper. I do not care,” hisses Sila. “I’ll be taking what is mine now.”
“Orielle—” I start, trying to push myself up. That familiar burning feeling is settling in now, like my body has become a flame. I can feel it darkening the edges of my consciousness.Weighing down my limbs and making it hard to move. I taste blood, fresh on my tongue, still dripping from my nose.
“This Dawnchild stays with me,” the Dawn King says. “As she promised.”
No.I can’t leave her here. Not now. I rage against my body as it tries to drag me under. Urges me to rest. To quiet. I feel as if I am drowning.
