Page 52 of A Queen Of Broken Realms
The small foyer gives way to the long, narrow living room. Afternoon light filters through the shifting dust motes, glinting off the shattered glass of a cabinet. Broken vials and potions lay in a pool of blood next to Ediye’s motionless legs.
“No—”
The word is little more than a strangled whisper as I rush past Ashen and drop to Ediye’s side. Her dark hair obscures her face, matted with glistening blood that streams from a wide gash. She’s still breathing, thank all the silent gods. I brush her hair back from her eyes, but they’re closed. Each breath is shallow. Her heart is weak behind her bones.
“Ediye, oh my God.Ediye,” I whisper, tears flooding my vision as I lean close to her face. She doesn’t stir. Ashen passes me, heading further into the apartment as he calls Mr. Hassan’s name. I’m biting deep into my wrist to pour my blood into Ediye’s head wound when I hear Ashen curse from the kitchen. I know in an instant that he’s found the old man.
“Ammon,” Ashen says, his voice low. I glance over my shoulder and see the old man’s feet at the entrance to his kitchen, one of his slippers lying next to his unmoving sole. I let out a sob and turn back to Ediye, watching my thick blood drip into her wound.
“Don’t leave me, Ediye. Please,” I beg, leaning my head down to watch her closed eyes for any flicker of movement. Her sage scent mixes with her sweet crimson blood. My heart feels like it’s splitting open and leaking through my eyes, through my wrist. It’s melting through my stomach, burning my insides, closing my throat. She looks so peaceful, slipping away in front of me with every shallow breath.
But I won’t let it happen. I can’t.
I start to chant a spell. “Pa azaggi enna su zaggin,” I whisper as Ashen drops to his knees across from me. He moves my arm away to press tea towels to the wound and staunch the bleeding. He takes my bloody hand and squeezes. And then we chant together.Pa azaggi enna su zaggin. Igimu gimbama betum durisutiis.
We’re repeating our spell, our eyes closed, Ediye’s weak heartbeat growing just a little stronger. I’m so focused on the cadence of her breathing that it takes me a moment to notice.
Voices. From the stairway.
A sharp breath fills my chest and Ashen’s eyes snap open, meeting mine. He pulls me up and we rush to the front door, standing just behind it.
Footsteps. Two pairs. A man’s voice. “...sure that he will have it?”
Then a woman’s, closer. “If anyone does, he will.”
I look at Ashen and hold up two fingers. He nods and we exchange a dark glance as he pulls me behind him. It’s a look that says we could be fucked, but we’ll work together. We’ll fight together.
There’s a scuff of shoes on the stairs below. “Wynter,” the man says in warning. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the lighter footsteps are flying up the stairs, the heavier ones following behind. “Wynter!Stop, Wyn!”
A young woman bursts through the door in a blur of silver hair and a long, flower print dress that billows as Ashen pulls her into the apartment by the wrist. He spins her around, the twist of their bodies as elegant as a dance. She yelps in surprise as Ashen pins her to the wall with his blade to her neck and his hand clamped across her mouth. A breath later a man surges through the door. My palm is waiting for his forehead, and he lurches to a halt as I send his mind into darkness, following him into his thoughts
There’s panic. Fear. Anger and confusion. And one word. Just one word, over and over and over, like blinding, flashing lights.
Wyn. Wyn. Wyn.
His mind is a fractured place with missing history. There are gaps and blank spaces, like parts have been stripped away, leaving scars in his thoughts and recollections. And in the place of missing pieces there’s something hidden, like a box. Secret even from him. Something that shouldn’t be there. Something stored away in shadow. There’s no pathway to it. No memory. It should be impossible for a vampire to lose memory, to have such gaps and hidden things with no way to find them. I want to open this secret chest, but I’m afraid of what I would unleash. I’m reaching to touch it when a voice pulls me away. I blink and realize it’s Ashen, calling my name. His voice is barely audible over the desperate plea from the man in my grasp.
“Wyn! Wyn, where are you?Wynter, answer me.Wyn!”
I look at the face of the vampire whose cool skin grows warmer with panic beneath my palm. He’s tall, beautiful. Grey, almond-shaped eyes are set in rich, medium brown skin. His thick, black hair is cut close on the sides, with a slight wave in the longer top. His strong jaw grits with fury. He’s powerfully built and could probably subdue me if I didn’t have the advantage of my touch, but I’ve got his mind convinced that he’s bound to a pole. He strains his muscular arms behind him as though trying to wrench himself free.
Ashen’s gaze collides with mine. We both look to the woman whose neck shudders against his blade, her eyes wide as she looks between us and over to her companion. He calls her name again and her lashes press closed, glistening with tears.
“Calm him down. I’ll make sure he can hear you,” I say to her, and Ashen waits until she gives a shaky nod before he peels his hand away from her mouth.
“Roman, I’m here. It’s okay-”
“Wyn—”
“Everything’s okay, Roman. Just stay calm.”
“Wynter—”
“Okay, we’re getting nowhere with him,” I say, adding a gag to his imagination and closing off his hearing. He fights against the new restraint, but at least he’s quiet. I turn my attention back to the woman. She’s shaking and afraid, but I can see the fierce calculations at work behind her eyes as she tries to think her way out of her predicament. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I thought that would be apparent by now. I’m Wynter. I’m an apothecary.”
I smirk at her sass. Ashen is feeling much less welcoming. His rage ripples beneath my skin as a cloud of smoke erupts from his back and drifts to the floor, filling the foyer. Wynter’s eyes widen as she realizes exactly what he is. A Reaper.
