Page 73 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Chapter 23
Aryana
The fiery depths of hell fell short of the pain shooting through every pore in Aryana’s body. She thrashed and screamed and someone murmured calming words.
But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Two voices floated to her in her tortured, half-conscious state.
“You can’t leave her like this. Look at her,” said a dark, smooth voice, as if it came from the shadows itself.
“I’ve done everything I can,” added another voice with a gruff edge. “She will need to heal the rest on her own. Get her some blood, that is what she needs.”
“For her?That’s easier said than done.”
“If you wish her to heal, then find a way.”
“Neutrolisis. I need you to get more.”
“Are you going after the piece of the vampire scepter again? I thought you mentioned the potion didn’t work.”
A low snarl reached her ears. “It’s not your place to ask questions.”
“That potion isn’t easy to acquire. It will take time.”
“Whatever you need to do or pay to speed the process. Do it. Get it to me as soon as possible.”
“Yes, master.”
The voices fell silent and for a while, all she was conscious of was the lingering burning in her limbs.
When she finally opened her eyes, she stared at the ceiling of Zarathos’s bedchamber. The soft satin sheets slid against the gauze wrapped around her entire body. She turned her head to look at the silk chemise someone had placed on her. She moaned. Moving made every muscle inside her scream with protest. Her skin was hot. Much too hot, and she feared for a moment an invisible fire still burned through her flesh, sinking into her bones.
Zarathos sat in a chair near the bed, hunched over, staring at the floor. His hands, one bound in the same white gauze as Aryana’s body, clutched his horns.
“I feel terrible,” she croaked. The wrappings around her face pulled tight and her lips cracked as she spoke, causing a metallic taste to gather on her tongue.
His head shot up, and he rose to his feet, his eyes sparking. “You’re awake.” The earnestness in his gaze caught her off guard. He reachedout toward her and for a brief moment, she thought he was about to take her hand.
But then he paused and pulled back. “It’s about time. You’ve been out for two nights. The Demon Trials start tomorrow.”
A low groan escaped her. It seemed she was going from one hellish situation to the next, with little opportunity to recover.
She looked at him, uncomprehending. “How am I even alive?”
He tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my uncle had that doll. And you had that potion to get the scepter.”
“You thought I’d take the scepter and leave you?”
“I remember—”
“Stop. I don’t wish to know about any more of your memories. I’d rather bathe in a tub full of vipers than see into your mind ever again.” A tremor rolled through his body.
She felt she should win some sort of prize for making the demon king react in such a manner. But she wouldn’t let him change the subject. She stared at him, her heart rate picking up. “There wasn’t time for both the scepter and me. Was there?”
His eyes narrowed, and he looked away. “It didn’t work.”
