Page 23 of Heavy is the Crown
“Let him go for now,” he whispers. “He doesn’t mean it; we know you aren’t here to use us.”
Tears cascade down my cheeks anyway as I watch Shadow flee, and then I turn and break apart into Drago’s chest.
PART 2
A PRINCESS AND HER DRAGONS
*this portion of the book picks up directly after the events of book one*
TWELVE
Having premonitions may seem like a great power, but it is in fact a curse. To see the world in fragments of what could be is a heavy weight to bear.
A lonely weight to bear.
– Carmine Family Grimoire
Ava
One Month Left of the Deal
I blink to clear the dust from my eyes as rapidly as I can before another explosion echoes from my left, sending me tumbling to the dry, cracked ground below my feet. My breath is knocked from me as I land hard on my back. Above me, the crimson sky of Hell is crackling with lightning. Panic edges into my chest, a viselike grip on my lungs that I’m fighting desperately. I roll, pushing myself up onto my feet as I take in the world around me.
People’s screams echo in my ears as they flee the destruction. My eyes track the now wide-open streets for mymates. The bond in my chest is pulsing faintly. I start to follow that pulse, slowly at first but steadily picking up speed until I’m in a dead sprint across what was once the city landscape of the capital of Hell. The place where I grew up. Black smoke clogs the air the closer I get to where the fighting seems to be. Buildings and structures have been knocked down and smolder, blocking my view of what lay on the other side.
Quickly, I begin to climb, something akin to dread starting to pull at me.
Turn back. Turn back, a voice begs me in my head, but I can’t. I must keep following the faint tug on the bond.
My hands slip on the hot metal, pain lancing through them as they are cut open. Higher and higher, I climb the mountain of twisted metal until I’m finally at the top. Closing my eyes, I take a breath and hoist myself over. When I open them, my stomach drops and my chest cracks open.
“No.” The word lurches out of me in a desperate plea. “No, no, no, no,” I chant. An ancient prayer sent to gods that no longer listen.
Before me lies what was once my home. Now, it’s a mess of smoldering remains. But that's not what drops me to my knees, not what rips a grief-stricken scream from my lungs. It’s my mates’ bodies on the ground in front of me. Drago’s skeletal dragon smoldering atop Shadow’s dragon. As if Drago shielded him to their very last breath, and it cost him his life.
I’m unaware of my body moving, but suddenly, I’m standing before them, my hands searching for life. Blood pools under their broken forms, my feet now covered in it. My own blood mixes with theirs on my hands as I sob into the cold forms of my mates. The faint pulse of the bond is no longer there. I feel only a vast pit of emptiness where it should be. A chasm that is going to swallow me whole any moment.
“Wake up, wake up!” I scream. “Please! You can’t leave me here!” The tears pour freely down my face in uncontrolled rivers. Nothing else matters as I beat my fist against Shadow’s large chest, before moving to shake Drago by his broken wing, the bones now bent in odd directions.
Something pulls my attention to the left, and I spy my brother’s broken body, thick arrows protruding from his chest. I rush to his side and lean my head down, hoping to feel even a small huff of breath. But his chest stays still. His body is brutalized from the battle. His once beautiful wings are cracked, the feathers long gone and the bones protruding at unnatural angles.
I stand slowly, scanning the area for anyone else. A little way off, I see an Elker standing over Kallen’s mate, his stomach ripped open. Kallen sits on her knees not far off, her eyes milky white as the Elker feasts on her fear. His end was fast, but hers will be drawn out for centuries. It’s what makes the Elkers so terrifying: they can keep you suspended in time as they slowly eat away at your soul. The pain is excruciating; no one ever comes back from that. Her Hellbeasts are scattered in pieces around them, their bodies torn into shreds that make it impossible to come back.
The gore turns my stomach, and I retch up bile onto the ground. When the last heave ends, I straighten back up and find I am not alone, after all. Having seemingly appeared from thin air, Astrea stands stiffly, her once green eyes dulled to black. Her body is splattered with blood and gore. Ciaran stands next to her, his swords dripping with blood. His eyes hold a strange vacancy like Astrea’s, as if neither are seeing this reality. I go to move toward them, but the collars around their throats give me pause. As if just now noticing me, Astrea cocks her head, almost mechanically, her face devoid of all emotion. In slow motion,she unfolds her power, aiming it at the gates that lead to Gothic Grove. Horror pushes through me as I realize her intent.
“Astrea! No!” I shout.
I hit the bedroom floor hard, which knocks me into wakefulness like a fist. Reality slowly pieces itself back together as the vision unhooks itself from my brain. Sweat clings to my skin and my face is wet from tears. Slowly, I work through my grounding, finding and identifying things in the room based on my senses. Based on this reality.
Carpet under my back. Samhain’s soft flutter of feathers. Drago’s eucalyptus scent. The small cracks in the ceiling.
I repeat them over and over until I know I’m solidly out of the vision and back here.
I sit up and grab my phone. The digital screen reads out 1 a.m. A groan escapes me at the realization I’ve only had an hour of sleep. That vision has been invading my mind anytime I’m alone. Like a poison, it’s been seeping into me and sucking away any hope I have. We’ve already been here for two months, and nothing has changed, nothing has altered the course of that dark future. It’s still looming in front of us, and this isn’t the first time I’ve been left wondering if I’m doing the right thing by not sharing it with everyone.
“Ava?” Shadow’s voice pulls me from the dark thoughts. Glancing up, I see him standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wreathed in light from the hallway outside. “Why are you on the floor?” Concern and suspicion lace his tone.
“Just a nightmare.” I wave dismissively, hoping he doesn’t notice how pale I am, or the sheen of sweat. I beg my legs to hold strong as I push myself up, but my body ignores my plea, and when I waver, I’m caught by two strong hands.
