Page 68 of Marked By the Dark Lord
I expected him to get up and go for Mila to finish her off.
Instead, he drew a poisoned blade and stabbed it at my throat. The move caught me by surprise, forcing me to dodge to the side, wasting precious seconds before I could explode upward, driving through his defenses to use my superior strength. Myarm snaked around his neck, and with a snarl, I crushed his windpipe and kept squeezing.
A few seconds later, the body collapsed as he was banished back to Faerie.
I got to my feet, ready to end it—
Just as the last assassin hurled the stump of his blade at Mila.
She tried to duck out of the way. Instead of taking her in the chest, it sank deep into her side. With a cry, she slumped to the ground.
Magic shot out from my hand, scarlet tendrils wrapping around his torso. I yanked him toward me and, without preamble, drove my blade up through his chin until it protruded from the top of his head.
“Mila!” I bellowed as the body fell apart. My feet crunched red marbles as I raced to her side, cradling her in my lap, looking horrifically at the wound in her side.
Her eyes were glazed with shock, the pain from the wound likely overwhelming her.
“Hi,” she whispered. “Your arms are big.”
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whispered as blood soaked her clothing, pouring out from around the blade.
“Liar,” she said, staring up at me, the blue so bright and prominent. “You would be healing me if you could.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” I said. “You’ll have to use your magic. I don’t have that kind of power. A broken nose I can heal with your own strength. But this … drawing the strength to heal this will kill you.”
“Teach me?” she asked weakly, concentration lines creasing her face.
Her right hand started to glow. Even mortally wounded, with a sword more than halfway through her body, she could still call forth some magic. It was impressive. I’d never met a human with a strength like hers. She was unique.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough,” I whispered, stroking her face as the magic faded.
As she faded.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I should have ducked.”
“Mila.”
She smiled. “Yes?”
“I …” my throat closed up.
“I know,” she whispered, the light fading from her eyes.
“Mila!” I bellowed, my thighs sticky with her blood. “Mila, come back!”
She went still, and my blood froze as the first inkling of pain latched its fiery tendrils deep into every part of my body. Most pain I could fight my way through. But this hurt, thislosswould consume me. I needed her back. I needed her body to be full of life, of zest, and the feistiness I associated with her.
Mila. Please. I need you.
But it did nothing. She was still, cooling rapidly.
Then her body collapsed into thousands of tinybluemarbles that fell through my fingers and evaporated into smoke.
Bluesmoke.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Korr’ok
