Page 11 of Queen of Ashes and Scars
Alec kills the rest of my question with a lethal look, and his reaction calms my initial fight-or-flight instinct, keeping me from jumping out of my seat at the sight of her bound and helpless.
Smoke rises up from a light brazier, the copper bowl holding the flames as thick as my thumb. The wretched necklace Felipe Pereira gave to Arielle glows bright-orange around her neck, and whatever magic is inside it is hurting her.
“What’s going on?” I croak, my voice dry and choppy. The aftertaste of jasmine tingles along the roof of my mouth.
A blond man with bright blue eyes inches toward me with a finger pressed to his lips. “We’re almost done with the ritual, Leo, we just need a few more minutes,” he whispers softly.
The red blisters peppering Arielle’s neck dry up my tongue, my mind reeling, and I try to stand, but I’m strapped in with a seatbelt. My knuckles turn white against the cushioned armrests.
“Take it easy. Keenan fed you a sleeping potion,” the man says, his blue eyes almost as blue as Keenan’s.
A furious blush heats my cheeks at the memory of the angel’s kiss, but I rub down my face and shake the unwanted thoughts out of my mind, concentrating on the current crisis instead.
Alec’s jaw ticks as the woman kneeling in front of Arielle presses the end of an incense stick to one of the chain links. Arielle writhes in her restraints, her long fangs out like she’s desperate to tear through the woman’s neck.
Blood drains from my face, the severity of the situation hitting me square in the face. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She should be. Lana knows what she’s doing. The necklace had a few tricky safeguards added to it, but your friend is stronger than most. If she wasn’t so quick to heal herself and contain the worst of the necklace’s magic, she’d already be dead.” He speaks with confidence, his voice measured and calm.
I squint, observing his curly blond hair and blue eyes, wondering if he’s an angel, too. “Who are you?”
He extends his hand. “Thom Walker. Nice to meet you.”
“Leo.”
Thom crouches next to me—at a perfectly polite distance—and leans in to continue our quiet conversation. “They told me you were human. How did you end up in this mess, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The skin of my cheek tingles as though I’ve been slapped in the face. I bet he’s only making conversation to distract me from whatever they have to do to help Arielle. I know that, and yet I sit stock-still next to the weirdly familiar stranger. “I’m her first-blood.”
His eyes narrow, a terrible cloud passing over his previously calm features. “You’re a blood slave?”
“I—Yeah.” A vicious shiver rocks through me as I hide my face in my palms. There’s no if or buts about it. I might have technically signed up for this, but I’m a slave, and it feels both good and wretched to hear it out loud and have it acknowledged by someone else, when everybody on the island and at the castle were so quick to brush over that simple fact.
Thom shoots Alec a nasty glance over his shoulder and inches closer. “Do you want out, Leo?”
I consider him for a long minute before I answer, “I don’t know. Who’s asking?”
“Just me. I’m human, too.”
I eye him up and down again, not sure he’s telling the truth. “And how didyouend up here?”
“It’s the family business.” His gaze drops like a stone, but quickly rises up again. “You say the word, and I’ll make sure you leave with us today.”
He’s offering me freedom like it’s candy, and it boils my blood. “It’s not that easy.”
His brows furrow. “Should we be worried? Are they going to turn on us?”
“No, but it doesn’t mean—” I pause, searching for the right words. This man is a perfect stranger, and I don’t have to justify myself to him, but somehow, I feel like I do. “I’m not a blood slave in the way you implied. It’s complicated, okay?”
He nods slowly and slides back into his seat across the aisle. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
The witch continues to work on the necklace, every new step causing Arielle to writhe harder and harder until a gray tint glazes over the skin of her arms, chest, and face. Charred flesh flakes off her burned neck and harsh shivers quake through her. Even when she was covered in Alec’s blood or crying over her arranged marriage, she never lost herself. The spark in her eyes is gone now, snuffed out by the pain, and I click off the seatbelt, ready to put a stop to this.
The sight of her so vulnerable and broken… I want to burn down the ones responsible.
“Fuck. Stop!” Alec echoes my sentiment as he punches the headrest of the empty seat behind him. “She’s too weak.”
“I’m almost done,” the witch shouts, holding a hand up to the revved-up bodyguard to calm him down. The tips of her fingers have blistered so deep that blood trickles down her palm.
