Page 54 of A Queen Of Broken Realms
Wynter sniffles and garbles something inaudible as Roman tries to soothe her. I catch only a few words in his low, strained rumble.Original sirens. Safe with her.My gaze doesn’t leave Ashen’s as I sink beneath the untruths in Roman’s whispers, the evidence of it right there in the cooling corpse at their side. I press my lips together and a tear slides down my cheek as Ashen’s blade lowers at his side, his face and shoulders falling as he takes a step toward me.
Ediye stirs beneath my hand. I lift the towels and the gash is still bleeding, though the flow has slowed. My palm pushes the saturated cloth down on the cut and I lean in close. Her limbs rake over the floor as though she’s taking languid strokes in a calm sea.
“Lie still, Ediye,” I say.
“Nnnnnn. Nnmm. Luuuuu,” she groans from the floor, her eyes fluttering but still closed.
I glance over my shoulder at Ashen before putting the full weight of my other palm to Ediye’s shoulder, trying to keep her down and calm. I don’t want to creep into her mind, afraid of the damage I could cause just trying to keep her still. “It’s okay, Ediye. I’m right here. You’re safe now.”
Ediye’s eyes crack open. Her unfocused pupils graze across my face with increasing pain and alarm. “Luuuu,” she whispers, her tongue caught around the consonant, the air in her lungs pausing on the vowel.
“That’s right, you badass bitch. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Ediye’s expression is not reassured.
Not in the least.
Panic takes over her eyes. A single star of her power winks its light at me before falling into darkness.
I already know what she’s going to say before she says it.
“R-run, Lu,” Ediye whispers, bracing against the pain as her hand finds mine. She tries to push me away. “Nnn. Nephilimmm. C-coming b-back.”
CHAPTER20
“Grab what you need. We have to move,” Ashen orders to the others before striding toward me. He squats down next to Ediye, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what supplies you require. I will gather them.”
Ediye starts slurring a list of ingredients. Rare herbs. Distilled nectars. Stamens clipped from a night blooming flower. Bones and feathers and claws, burnt and ground to fine powder.
I leave them to it, rising to approach Wynter and Roman as they search quickly through the undamaged ampules and pouches, Roman pocketing some as they go.
“You said you need a Healer,” I say, and they exchange a dark look before resuming their search.
“Yes,” Wynter replies.
“Ediye is a powerful Healer. She’ll need a few days to recover, but she can help.”
“In exchange for what?”
“A Resurrectionist,” I say, my heart rioting as I watch another wary glance flick between them. “We will pay. And Mr. Hassan was going to bring materials for an angel to endure the Shadow Realm. We want that too.”
Wynter’s red-rimmed, glassy eyes snap to mine in an accusatory glare. A heated blush blooms beneath a smattering of light freckles that dust her nose and cheekbones. “Why? What are you planning to do to the angel?”
Do to the angel. My blood heats in my veins. So this is what it feels like. This is a taste of what Ashen endures, the distrust at every turn, the loathing, no matter that you’re trying to do the right thing or protect the ones you love. I wouldn’t mind trying to smack those freckles right off her pretty face. The red glow creeps into my eyes despite how hard I wrestle with my rage. “The angel is family. Stop assuming the worst before I lose interest in proving you wrong.”
“You said you neededepiphyllum oxypetallum?” Ashen interjects, and Wynter’s face loses all ferocity as her attention shifts to the Reaper. I don’t miss the hint of desperation in the quickening beat of her heart.
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” Ashen says, showing the label of the ampule they’ve been searching for in his hand. His fingers curl around the vial to hide it from view. His expression turns menacing. My Reaper is clearly done with dicking around. “We will give it to you once you’ve done as we’ve requested. Get the other supplies we require and come with us.Now.”
There’s no further argument, only action.
Wynter lists out materials with precision and efficiency as Ashen and Roman gather them, putting everything into Ashen’s backpack. I stride over to a bookcase on the far side of the room, looking through the titles on the desiccated leather covers of the oldest volumes. Greek philosophers. Roman ledgers. Egyptian incantations. And one, bound in rich brown leather and a layer of filmy preservative, the title in Sumerian.Amagi Dugnamtar.
Book of the Fatespeaker.
Well. That’s about as close as I’ll probably get.
